They said to wear your costume, but none of the people you met in the last 50 minutes were wearing a costume. If anyone thought you looked silly signing non-disclosure agreements in your costume, they didn't say it. Everyone was very professional. They didn't seem like the lab techs and scientists you may have met from Boston Theoretical. They were much more serious than that.
The last paper you signed, if you read it correctly, threatened a trip the Guantanamo Bay facility with its power dampening technology, if you breathed a word about what you are about to see. It explained that the series of experiments you just agreed to were being observed by the Pentagon and that the Pentagon had the right to terminate the experiment at any time.
After all that build-up, they walk you into a large room with one wall lined with monitors. The sign on the door says "Observation Deck."
There are other people in costumes too.
Charles didn't need a costume. He'd realized, as soon as he saw the forms, that he was in one of those 'government procedure doesn't quite fit you' situations. Probably they weren't used to rescuing mad science experiments that still had enough of their mind left to volunteer.
Sure, they'd made him an outfit, but he wouldn't really call it a costume. There's not a lot you can do to hide a seven-foot-tall man with four arms, a fox's head, jaguar ears, fur, and digitigrade legs, other than wear a massive trenchcoat and hat and try not to let anyone see your face. Instead it was a practical affair, slightly armored, snugly fitting, a drab gray and brown that sort-of fit with the red fox fur on his top half and spotted leopard fur on his bottom half. The impressive part was how it changed into a suit of armor when he changed, but hopefully it'd be a bit before he had to do that.
He smiles weekly at the other people in here, wondering just what they'd think of him. Most of them looked like they could pull off an ordinary life if they tried--did they think he was in costume and had a 'normal' form?
A tiny globe of golden light flutters along with the crowd. Within the glowing sphere is a feminine form with wings as radiant as a phoenix. She flits patiently, keeping in line like everyone else, and when it is her turn to sign—she begins to grow!
Fiery light swirls around her body, which passes for human, though with a head a tad disproportionately large, like a child's. Her height increases tenfold, making her a bit on the small side for a halfling.
Her body is clothed only in light. As the light dims, flames that emit only a gentle warmth spiral onto her, forming a cape, gloves, and a belt with a mercy pistol holster at each hip over form-fitting clearweave. Completing the costume are plates of sunlight, which cover the halfling so that she looks like a tiny valkyrie.
Within seconds, her grand wings fall apart, molting as feathers of harmless flame. At the end of her metamorphosis, her armor plates and her eyes glow like the sun. A few glowing feathers protrude from each of her bare shoulder blades, but it is obvious that she cannot fly in her current state.
Thus, she stands on her tippy toes, which at two-foot-three still requires a feat of acrobatics to reach... that... pen...
...and NDA—which she signs as,
Nissa van Donk, a.k.a. the Subatomic Bombshell
When it comes to signing her next of kin, however, the glow in her eyes seems to dim.
Bob Goldenrod
Relationship?
She checks the box next to Other, and on the line she writes: Agent.
As for how she got roped into this gig, well... no one wants a supermodel with freaky glowy eyes. The superheroes who know her from the PR business said Boston Theoretical could give her answers.
Ot perhaps, a purpose!
With that hopeful thought stamped on her frontal lobe, the Bombshell makes her way to the Observation Deck with the confident gait of a model on the runway.
She notices the guy in front of her is literally three times her height, but his smile is, like, so shy. She decides to try to strike up a conversation. (Or failing that, at least calling attention to herself should prevent her from getting stepped on.)
"Hello there!" she calls up to the big, furry four-armed guy. "I'm Nissa. You might recognize me from the Clearweave ad on the Prudential building."
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Charles looks over as the door opens, and then looks doooown. He knew he was tall, now, but even so, she wasn't the normal kind of short. Had something happened to her, too? Err, and her eyes were glowing. Well, there were people like that around, it didn't necessarily mean someone had experimented on her...
He realized she'd spoken to him and mentally backpedaled, trying to remember what she'd said. "Uh, Charles," he replies belatedly, glad she probably can't tell he's embarrassed with all the fur and the muzzle and everything. His deep, powerful voice clashes with his uncertain tone. "Umm... I'm not from around here. Columbus. At least I was until..."
He waves vaguely at himself with both of his right hands.
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Nissa's eyes are warm, inviting, like a fireplace on Crystalhue Eve. Her armor seems to glow a little brighter as she perks up upon hearing the name 'Charles.'
"Pleasure to meet you, Charles. I'm a local girl, myself. From Harvard. The town—not the university. It's a quaint town. An hour from here, so I bummed a ride from a fashionista I've modeled for."
It takes her a while to understand the gesture. He points at himself because... oh. Oh! I'm such a ditz!
"You're implying you've... changed. I changed too. My eyes were once ice blue. And..." She reaches behind her back and plucks a feather from her bare shoulder blade. "I didn't always hav—" As she holds up the feather for Charles to get a better look, it poofs into a swirl of sparks, which dissipate in the next instance. "I wish they wouldn't do that," she mutters.
"Anyway, I'm a good listener, if you want to talk about your change. Even if you don't, I'm glad we happened to be in line together. We may be opposites in some ways—height, for instance—but... you and I are probably more alike than we are different."
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A young woman of African descent entered the room. She appeared to be in her early 20's, and stood about 5'11". She was of lighter skin, and had heterochromia: one blue eye and one purple eye, which sat behind the domino mask on her face. It was clear that she had been in serious shape at one point, but now she likely just maintained her form.
The material of her outfit was mostly black spandex, with a dark blue diamond taking the center of the breastplate. The chest, forearms, and boots all appeared to be a different material than the rest of the armor but did not prevent mobility. A utility belt hung around her waist, the buckle of which was a black piece of metal with the same blue diamond symbol on it.
A headband pulled her afro back from her head, keeping her face clear.
She moved to the desk and began filling out the paperwork the others were filling out:
Name: Verve
Next of Kin: Escalation
Relationship: Mentor
Having filled out the paperwork, Verve finally looked at the other two and thought:
The big one is probably a genetic experiment, most likely one done by Boston Theoretical itself.
The other one is one of those cape chasers I think. I know I've seen her before...
Shaking her head, she says "Do either of you know what is going on here?"
When she spoke, it was with a quiet French accent the belied her physicality.
The last of the Boston Theoretical staff leave the room, promising that Dr. Moore and Dr. Preston will be with you shortly.
Nissa wonders if one of the suits might answer the woman's question. But they all leave, so...
"Nnnnope." She shrugs. "On the upside, we can't possibly violate the NDA while we're, like, totally clueless.
"My name's Nissa van Donk, by the way." She smiles warmly at the newcomer.
"You may call me Verve." smiled Verve in response. "I know that I've seen you some where mademoiselle Van Donk. Were you a sidekick for one of the American heroes?"
Nissa actually likes the idea of that. "Oh, nothing so honorable as being a sidekick. I did my share of public-relations gigs with heroes. My agent was renegotiating my contract with Flex Luthor the day I changed. In fact, he—Luthor, not my agent—was one of the heroes who introduced me to this place.
"I like it here so far. My glowing eyes kinda, like, totally obliterated my modeling career. But here, I've been learning about my powers—embracing my changes, attuning to photons and stuff, knowing what a photon is... baby steps, y'know?"
She apparently likes being at Boston Theoretical, but also apparent: she's new here. If there's a reason not to like this organization, Nissa is oblivious to it.
"How about yourself, Verve? Did you start out as a sidekick?"
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"Ahh, that's where I've seen you!" said Verve with a smile.
At Nissa's question, Verve said "Yes, I was the sidekick for Escalation for a while."
Verve turned her head to the four-armed giant and asked "What about you? If you do not mind my asking, what is your story?"
Getting Valerie to come here was little issue. She had been walking all over the city asking people how she could help people for weeks. Bumping into (or having been noticed by) an agent from Boston Theoretical was only a matter of time--and when they told her absolutely she could help and would she be willing to do so by participating in a possibly dangerous experiment, she agreed, saying, "Sounds like fun to me!"
If there's one thing Uncanny Valerie could do, it was research. Understanding that if she was to help people and make it known, she would become a superhero. So she researched what superheroes looked like. She determined the superheroic archetype she matched, in reality and in fiction, was a magic user, albeit with a technological theme. Hence the long hooded blue robes with white and gold accents. Underneath those, she added a symbol to her simple white unitard that had been her uniform in the Database, a gold outlined blue symbol that looked sort of like an I with several cross bar caps or a tower. To someone more savvy, it looked like a stylized version of the ancient Egyptian symbol called the djed symbol. To her it was an ancient icongraph from a lost culture who were referred to as the founders and was a symbol of hope and strength--what the name "Valerie" pointed to. Her clearweave armor glowed with circuit patterns that lit up periodically in different places across her outfit. As she got closer, beneath her hood you can see the seams in her "flesh," the slightly plasticine complexion, and see the blue glow behind her eyes. Quite close, you might hear a faint, constant whirring.
Unperturbed about possibly standing out, she waves at any and everyone in the room with a practiced, friendly smile as she passes, and goes to fill out her paperwork.
Upon the "next of kin" line, she pauses, frowns as a wave of... of... it takes a moment for her to retrieve the best way to describe the sensation... of sadness. An exiled celestial automaton definitely has no "kin." She simply writes, "Not Applicable."
Seeing the other creatures who are also dressed in some sort of costumes, she presumes this is likely a group she is to connect with, and so she approaches. "Hi there! I am Uncanny Valerie. I am here to help!"
Nissa looks up in awe at the technologically-wonderful woman. She wants to say something witty and welcoming, but when her jaw drops, the only word to come out is "wow."
She then leaps into the air…
—armor clattering onto the floor, dissipating in a crackle of sparks!—clearweave, mercy pistols. cloak, gloves and trendy backpack swirling away as sunset-orange arcs!—body enveloped in light, facial and anotomical features rendered indistinguishable by sheer brilliance!
…and her feminine shape dwindles to a tenth her height, if that. Rocketfire bursts from under her impossibly diminutive shoulder blades. The harmless flames spread into wings!
With a flit and a hover, the stellar mote now sees eye-to-eye with the android woman. Nissa isn't sure if the electric eyes can perceive her pixyish smile, but her tiny-bell voice expresses gentle enthusiasm. "I have a nickname, too, Uncanny Valerie. I'm Nissa, the Subatomic Bombshell.
"Oh! And if it's not a burden, I'd be so totally honored to accept your help, when it's, like, a good time for me to ask."
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Man you are moving fast. Work has been busy, and I am still finalizing the character. If I find I am unable to keep up I will give fair and ample warning.
Charles breathes a secret sigh of relief when Valerie enters, glad for a moment to collect his thoughts. How did he answer? Well... just the truth, he guessed.
"I'm Charles. Charles Wilde." He grins just a bit. "And no, I didn't make the last name up. And people thought it was overappropriate when I decided to become a zookeeper."
He chuckles a bit at a memory, but quickly sobers. "As for my story... well..."
He could do this. He breathes in, and lets the breath out slowly. "I was cleaning the savanna exhibit one evening when something hit me. Err, a dart. A tranquilizer dart. I don't remember much after that until I woke up with a second head."
He grimaces. "I'm really butchering this, aren't I? Err, so this guy who called himself 'PhDestruction' kidnapped me. I think the name tells you all you need to know about him. Anyway, he thought it'd be funny to combine me with the animals I took care of, so... he did. Over the course of several months. Then he kept going."
Charles takes another calming breath, trying to keep the painful memories in check. "By the time Boston Theoretical raided the place I had two different forms, this one and one that's got three heads and six legs. Now that the pain's over it's... almost cool, except for the complete inability to have a life. So I asked about trying to make a new life, and they told me to show up here."
There. He'd made it. He hadn't broken down sobbing over the torture the mad scientist had put the animals he'd cared for through at the same time as experimenting on him, he hadn't gone into gory detail about all the blood and agony of having your body slowly warped into a monster... he was getting better at this.
At least, he was pretty sure, he thought to himself as he tried to still the trembling in his knees.
Nissa turns and hovers in silence as Charles tells his story. She flutters over to him and sits on the shoulder of his upper-left arm, giving a gentle pat. Her touch feels like a sunbeam.
“Not ‘almost.’ You are cool.”
Verve nodded and smiled politely at Valerie, and then listened to Charles' story without comment. When he finished, she gave him a comforting smile and said "So, we have a cheerful robot, a shapechanger, a flying ball of light, and myself; add one ore two more, and we could have someone starting a new League." Verve finished her last sentence with a chuckle.
"Unless mademoiselle Valerie knows something that we do not?"
Charles gives Nissa an appreciative nod, even though it feels a little weird having her on one of his shoulders.
"I'm just... it was traumatic. There's no other way to describe it. But I'm alive, and as long as I don't think about how I got them too hard all the changes are useful. Though I still get a bit confused about the extra limbs. And especially the extra eyes."
He looks over at Valerie and Verve. "I'm guessing she probably doesn't? Probably they're waiting for everyone to show up and then they'll tell us."
"Which would imply that there are more people coming." Verve said.
"It is most definitely not a burden, Nissa the Subatomic Bombshell! And what an excellent demonstration of molecular density reorganization!" She offers the tiny creature her finger, instead of a hand, to shake.
She grows quiet as Charles tells his story. Her features pull themselves downward into a frown. "How resilient you are, to have survived all that! I was delighted to spot a chimeric creature in this realm, but not so much to hear of your pain and the sadistic villainy of this PhDestruction. But you have life, Charles Wilde. You are brimming with it! And you are beautiful."
To Verve's comment, she tilts her head. "Ah, Verve, former sidekick to Escalation, I expect there are at least..." she pauses, as she inwardly checks her calculations, "7,382,924 things I know that you do not! More if I tap into my expanded database. But as to why we specific entities are right here and right now? I would need more data on what brought you here. I was looking for people to help, and a fellow asked me to come here."
Nissa exclaims, "You mean I'm doing something scientific? ...and organized?" She giddily wraps her arms around the enormous unshakable finger.
After the sort-of handshake, Nissa says, "Oh, I believe you are already helping me, Uncanny Valerie. You make me feel like a Canny Nissa." Addressing the others, she adds, "All of you do. I was afraid I'd never fit in. And now..." Again she turns to Valerie, "I'm almost afraid to ask you if you can explain why my body changed. Maybe if I feel good about the way I am, the cause is, like, trivial. Y'know?"
One of the monitors on the wall flickers on. The sign on the door to this room said "Observation Deck." In the center of the room is a raised circular metallic dias. A couple of uniformed workers are assembling something at the center of the dias. The text on the monitor labels the room it displays as the "Flight Deck."
"Oh. Wicked!" Nissa says of the onscreen contraption. Then for the benefit of the others, she explains her choice of adjective as "vintage Massachusetts slang, dating back to the witch trials." Or was it the Disco Era?
The stellar mote hovers next to monitor, as if she is a yellow dot punctuating the Flight Deck sign. "Have any of you ever flown a ship?"
The crew working on the flight deck are placing a black cone in the center of the flight deck. It angles up like the Leaning Tower of Pisa but comes to a sharp point, being a cone instead of cylinder.
"I have not." Verve likewise moved to the monitor to observe, since there was not much else to do.
Uncanny Valerie considers Nissa's question. "I would need to know about the circumstances in which you developed your abilities to provide an estimation. My sensors indicate you emit solar radiation. This could be caused by any number of things from mutation to divine intervention."
The movement on the flight deck draws her attention. "I have not ever flown a ship. I hope to get the opportunity some day."
She frowns at the cone, wondering what it is.
Someone comes in with a box of ear buds and distributes them and then leaves.
Moments later, the door opens again and three people enter--a woman in business attire, an older man in a military uniform, and a long-haired, bearded man in a white lab coat. They pause after they enter and look over the assembled heroes. The man in the lab coat smiles and says, ”Wow, just wow! Look at you all. This is going to be fantastic! I can feel it.”
”I think what Dr. Moore is forgetting to say is ‘Hello,’” says the woman, not smiling. Her voice comes across the room and through the earbuds. ”I’m Dr. Preston. I’m in charge of the ‘applied’ side at Boston Theoretical. When we need something built for an experiment, I take care of that end. And, Dr. Moore is …”
”Blown away, totally, and really looking forward to this,” interrupts Dr. Moore.
Apparently that wasn’t the information Dr. Preston wanted Dr. Moore to share with you. She continues, ”And, Dr. Moore is our sole researcher in metaphorical physics, having managed to convince the people in charge that metaphorical physics is a real thing.”
”Wow! Hold on now!” says Dr. Moore turning on her. ”Actually, I demonstrated that reality was metaphorical.”
”And I’m Colonel Greer,” says the uniformed man. ”I belong to the Pentagon’s Transdimensional Anomaly Recognition and Observation Task Force.”
Dr. Moore whispers something to Dr. Preston. It appears Dr. Preston is wearing a microphone because you can hear their voices in your ear buds ”I still think ‘and observation’ is redundant,” whispers Dr. Moore to Dr. Preston.
”And I still think ‘TART Force’ would be bad acronym,” hisses Dr. Preston into your ear.
”I’m here because Dr. Moore thinks he can create a transdimensional anomaly under laboratory conditions … or, more specifically, that you can.” Colonel Greer continues.
Dr. Moore jumps in ”As I’ve already told the General …”
“Colonel”
”…Valerie here has been creating transdimensional anomalies all week. It seems to be part of her data update mechanism. We've been calling them 'surges.' She has been opening these very, very tiny transdimensional gates ... Not subatomically tiny, however.”
Doctor Moore stops talking and smiles. Dr. Preston looks dubious. Colonel Greer looks somewhat bemused but mostly bored.
Uncanny Valerie considers Nissa's question. "I would need to know about the circumstances in which you developed your abilities to provide an estimation. My sensors indicate you emit solar radiation. This could be caused by any number of things from mutation to divine intervention."
The movement on the flight deck draws her attention. "I have not ever flown a ship. I hope to get the opportunity some day."
She frowns at the cone, wondering what it is.
[dice=Engineering]1d20+3
[dice=Mysticism]1d20+9
There isn't really enough for Uncanny Valerie to go on. The whole thing kind of looks like a sundial. The angled cone is only 5 ft high. It could be anything from a wand to a gun. Whatever it is, it's probably for sending not receiving.
Charles is caught with his mouth open, about to speak, as the screen comes to life. His ears twitch slightly and his mouth closes just as the door opens and the earbuds are handed out. He notes that the pair handed to him *does* take into account that his ears are not shaped like a human's.
He eyes the vessel on-screen warily as the three official-types start explaining. As they pause, he raises both of his right hands, then realizes he needs only one and lowers his lower hand.
"So... you probably need her for the experiment, but what about..."
Charles trails off for a moment as a thought strikes him. "...is there a possibility of... trouble if it works?"
Dr. Moore starts, “We still don’t know much about who or what PhDestruction was, but among the detailed notes he left behind about his experiments we found a set of frequencies that we understand to be transdimensional coordinates."
Colonel Greer responds. He’s been staring at Charles admiringly, "Every transdimensional breech we’ve encountered so far has been ‘tuned’ to different frequencies. If we were able to create our own transdimensional breech and tune it to this frequency, we could open a gate to this dimension he references and take a peak on the other side."
Dr. Moore continues,"PhDestruction labelled this dimension 'Earth VIII.' We're not sure what that means, but we know alternate realities exist; we've been visited too many times not to. Our goal is a brief reconnaissance mission. It may help us to get some answers about where some of Charles' more exotic DNA comes from.”
"Yes, can you perhaps explain exactly what is going on here and what you expect our part to be."
"Yes, I'd like to hear Dr. Moore explain to you why he had me build a two meter long needle encased in Omnisium," says Dr. Preston.
"It’s more like a cannon,” replies Dr. Moore.
"It’s as sharp as a needle and hollow like a cannon,” explains Colonel Greer.
"Exactly, general …”
"Colonel.”
"…GENERALly speaking, what I want to do is use this device as a cannon to fire something very, very tiny into a very tiny transdimensional breech."
"Yes, can you perhaps explain exactly what is going on here and what you expect our part to be."
"This is where you come in, Verve! Many projectiles carry discharge with them. In order to move this tiny object without expelling any other matter or force and without risking the contamination of that breech, I have proposed we have you focus one of your blasts of telekinetic energy through the device.
“I could have done it with magnets, but he wanted meet superheroes,” Dr. Preston mutters into your earbuds.
"Oh my goodness, I am so sorry. I had no idea about the transdimensional breeches. Being disconnected from the Central Database, my processing core must be attempting to connect into any extraplanar data subsystems it can find to obtain data. It's trying to replace the connection I lost. But I..." she sort of crosses her eyes, as if literally trying to look inward. "I think this function is a byproduct of how I was designed. I don't think I can stop it from happening. Please, if there is any irreparable damage done to the fabric of your reality, I am most apologetic and will try to do whatever I can to--
"--wait, you want to exploit the breeches? Are you sure? That could be highly risky."
Nissa is so fascinated by Valerie’s utterance of the phrase divine intervention, she remains uncharacteristically silent for some time.
Finally, she snaps out of her funk and calls out to Dr. Moore.
“‘Subatomically tiny?’ Is there… something I need to do that requires me to, umm… reorganize my dense molecules?”
Dr. Moore is delighted by Nissa’s flitting, ”Now you’re catching on! When Uncanny Valerie ‘connects’ or ‘surges’ it seems she is opening up a very, very tiny transdimensional gate between this dimension and some kind of universe-sized database. I want to temporarily retune that gate she opens up and, then, using this cannon …”
“Here comes the best part …” Dr. Preston says to no one in particular.
“… send a single agent through the breach with a subatomic tether to set up a relay on the other side.” Dr. Moore exclaims smiling at Nissa.
When no one reacts with astonishment immediately, Dr. Preston explains it more succinctly and with helpful hand gestures. “He wants you …,” pointing at Verve “… to use this …,” pointing at the device on the flight deck “… to fire you …,” pointing at Nissa “… into your brain while you’re updating!....” pointing at Uncanny Valerie.
“It won’t hurt!” promises Dr. Moore.
“….and he wants you to wear a bungee cord when you go!” Dr. Preston finishes pointing at Nissa again.
"Okay, Dr. Moore, I'd like you to make an argument, with as sound logic as you can muster, about why we should NOT attempt this experiment. Humor me."
"Okay, Dr. Moore, I'd like you to make an argument, with as sound logic as you can muster, about why we should NOT attempt this experiment. Humor me."
"NOT to? Okay ... ummm ... sending something through breach could cause it to enlarge ... something could follow Nissa back ... the breach could become permanent ... interfering with the breach could hurt Valerie ... a lot of somethings could follow Nissa back ..." Dr. Moore enumerates these counter-arguments on his fingers.
"And it's dumb and probably wouldn't work!" adds Dr. Preston.
"Nissa ... Can you make yourself small enough to be injected into something the size of a blood vessel?" asks Colonel Greer, silencing the doctors.
"A what?!" Nissa asks in surprise.
Yes, she is well aware that injected into an android's brain doesn't faze her, but bungee cord...
"You don't mean an actual physical cord, do you? I mean... where would you get a subatomic sized cord? And where would you keep it? When I... y'know... was able to go beyond the microscopic level? Everything was moving. A brick became beach sand, a thumbnail became a wacky ball pit, and the day I passed through solid steel all those ball things were like little planets."
Nissa's not even arguing about the experiment. A brain is probably easier to fly through than a steel plate. But the bungee cord... she just can't wrap her head around it.
But after her rant, she finally registers Col. Greer's question.
"Oh... a blood vessel's not even subatomic. It's microscopic. Yeah. Now the bungee cord makes sense."
She nods to the Colonel and gives two thumbs up, one for each Doctor.
Colonel Greer continues, "Uncanny Valerie, to your knowledge, is what Dr. Moore's describing possible? Could you be opening up a very tiny gate to another dimension during these 'surges'?"
Oh-my-goddess, omigoddess, OH!
Nissa turns to Dr. Moore. "Saaaay... Dr. Moore. This device the colonel speaks of. Is it...?"
The little bombshell is ready to burst from excitement just thinking about it.
"Is it an itty-bitty ship!"
"So given what you've just said, do you believe your experiment is more important than mademoiselle Nissa's life or the potential destruction of the Earth?"
Charles has gone... strangely quiet. His mouth is firmly shut, but there's a glint of anger in his eye. So now they were supposed to play the mad scientists? And this was supposed to be a good idea?
But it seemed like Verve was already on that track, saying it better than he could, so he kept his mouth shut and just glared at Dr. Moore.
Colonel Greer continues, "Uncanny Valerie, to your knowledge, is what Dr. Moore's describing possible? Could you be opening up a very tiny gate to another dimension during these 'surges'?"
"Colonel, I am in truth from another dimension. In fact, a large, me-sized gate was opened to send me to this realm, so I am indeed living--in a broad sense--proof transdimensional travel is possible. But is my data processing core creating new breaches? I honestly thought the uplink attempts involved quantum wavelengths that didn't technically breach anything... but my function was originally to primarily process data about life- and soulforms of the multiverses 0001 through 19999. Quantum physics is outside my original purpose. Perhaps the signal my data core is sending does create 'gateways,' however tiny, to find the information it seeks. What I am curious about, however, is how Dr. Moore knows I was doing this, when I was not."
"So given what you've just said, do you believe your experiment is more important than mademoiselle Nissa's life or the potential destruction of the Earth?"
"But, those were very tiny possibilities ...," Dr. Moore begins to whine. "And, a much greater danger is posed by not knowing how to open or close transdimensional gates. Our so-called reality has seen a half-dozen overtly threatening visitors from other dimensions in this past year alone. They're always surprising us and we have a hell of a time preventing them from returning. Honestly, it's like living in the same city as your in-laws."
"Colonel, I am in truth from another dimension. In fact, a large, me-sized gate was opened to send me to this realm, so I am indeed living--in a broad sense--proof transdimensional travel is possible. But is my data processing core creating new breaches? I honestly thought the uplink attempts involved quantum wavelengths that didn't technically breach anything... but my function was originally to primarily process data about life- and soulforms of the multiverses 0001 through 19999. Quantum physics is outside my original purpose. Perhaps the signal my data core is sending does create 'gateways,' however tiny, to find the information it seeks. What I am curious about, however, is how Dr. Moore knows I was doing this, when I was not."
"Your uplink attempts," says Dr. Moore excitedly "Do involve transmitting quantum wavelengths but the intensity, direction, and focus of them leads us to postulate regarding where they are being sent and how. Further investigation, led us to find signs of extra-temporal activity. I can assure you, Valerie, that these gates you seem to be opening appear harmless. A little transchronal radiation may even be good for humans; we've been exploring the possibility that it would retard aging ..."
Oh-my-goddess, omigoddess, OH!
Nissa turns to Dr. Moore. "Saaaay... Dr. Moore. This device the colonel speaks of. Is it...?"
The little bombshell is ready to burst from excitement just thinking about it.
"Is it an itty-bitty ship!"
Dr. Preston smiles for the first time, and holds out the tip of a finger that appears empty. Someone very tiny who flew over would see the tiniest little bullet-shaped ship thinner than a hair. The words 'The Bombshell' are engraved on the side so small that it must have required a very precise laser.
"The 'bungee cord' is about 100 atoms wide," she explains. "There's a switch in the ship to change the polarity of some photons, increase the density, and cause the atoms to come closer together and the cord to tighten, pulling you back out. Dr. Moore may be ... a little off, but my engineering is precise."
Colonel Greer speaks again in a tone that commands people to listen, "Well, I've heard enough. Dr. Moore, the subjects of your experiment sound unwilling to participate, and the U.S. Government would never experiment on unwilling subjects. I'll remind everyone of the NDAs they signed and of the consequences for violating them and thank you for coming."
"But... I am willing," Nissa replies.
To Charles Wilde, "That PhDestruction guy called our world Earth VIII. That means there are other dimensions where people have made the same discoverys. If we do nothing, maybe our world will have its own P-H-destructive mastermind who in aces an Earth XI and experiments on people."
To Verve, "I have flown through steel. I know I'm kinda like a ditz, and I don't understand your power. But I have faith in you that your power won't kill me if your intent is to propel me."
Finally to Valerie, "You must know 7 million 382 billion things that I don't. But the fact Dr. Moore knows one thing you don't—well... doesn't that mean the nerd here, like, were totally thorough doing their homework?
"I always though my first ship would be bigger, but I really wanna fly the Bombshell. Are we really about to walk away from this opportunity just 'cause it's risky?"
Nissa then grows back, light converging on her until she appears as a two-foot-three armored valkyrie. As her wings molt to nothing she matches up to the colonel and looks up at him.
"All due respect, Col. Greer, are you really about to surrender just because not everyone here immediately bought in?"
"Oh! I thought of another reason not to do it! The transdimensional breach could cancel Nissa's powers causing her to suddenly enlarge inside of Uncanny Valerie's head!" Dr. Moore has, apparently, gone back to listing reasons not to do the mission. He uses hand gestures to convey the effects of Nissa enlarging inside Valerie. He catches himself, "OH! Again ... very, very small chance of that happening."