The Triskelion
"This way, please," the S.H.I.E.L.D. medic motioned to the group getting off the bus. "Ladies, to my right: gentlemen, to my left."
"I don't want to leave my husband!" one older woman protested.
"What about my son?" demanded a young mother.
"This is unconstitutional!" another man shouted. "We've committed no crime!"
"You can't do this to us! We're Americans!" shouted another.
The shouting increased as angry people began to panic. Finally one of the medics jumped up on a table.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, MAY I HAVE YOUR ATTENTION!" he shouted.
The crowd, still muttering, quieted down some.
"I KNOW THIS IS CONFUSING AND ALARMING. PLEASE BE PATIENT. NOBODY IS UNDER ARREST!"
"Then why can't we go home?" one woman demanded.
"What are you hiding? Why won't you tell us what is going on?" shouted another voice.
"LISTEN UP, PEOPLE!" the medic shouted, getting red in the face. S.H.I.E.L.D. had prepared him to deal with military personnel, not panicking civilians. "I'M TRYING TO TELL YOU..."
"Boy, don't shout at civilians. You'll only make it worse. And get down," growled Fury. "Standing over people doesn't calm them."
"Sir? You're here? But I thought..." the medic stammered.
"That's a good habit. Keep it," Fury nodded. "Folks! Your attention, please!" he boomed. "I'm Nicholas Fury, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D, currently your host, as well as a patient here with you!"
"And he's a nice young man!" Mrs. Libbitz chimed in.
The murmuring quieted down a little bit.
"Thank you Mrs. Libbitz," Fury said with a nod. "Now, I understand this is alarming. I'm not happy either. I had a lot of other things planned for today, believe me! Hopefully this won't take long."
"What's happening?" a brown-haired middle-aged man shouted.
"So we're all on the same page, folks: one of your neighbor's apartments was the scene of an act of Bio-Terrorism. The young lady's place was broken into and dusted with a known disease-causing agent."
"Then why isn't she in custody?" one sharp-tongued woman shouted.
"Miss Sauer is already being tended at another facility," Fury answered.
"She's on the third floor!" A young woman with dark hair and a squalling baby protested. "Why am I here, when I'm on the first floor?"
"Because all of your apartments share plumbing and air ducts," Fury said sternly, "and disease does not respect privacy. Terrorists don't either."
The young woman shushed her baby and gulped.
"Now, for the next few days you will all be our guests," Fury continued. "The affected apartment will be visited by a HazMat team and cleaned, and the entire building will be searched for signs of contagion. We are familiar with the disease used by the terrorists, and have counter-agents available. We will need your complete medical histories..."
Fury talked on and on, placating the crowd, until the nurses arrived and gathered interviews. Most of the crowd was thrilled to discover they would not be billed. Despite the passing of the Affordable Care Act, many still did not have health insurance, so a few days of free, intensive medical care was attractive.
"And, you'll be glad to hear we have the latest movies on file, so you won't be completely bored," one of the nurses volunteered.
"Can I call my son in Jersey?" Mrs. Libbitz asked her nurse.
"Sure," the young woman nodded, "as soon as you're settled."
Fury escaped by leaving for his own 'examination'. He quickly caught up with the team leader, a diminutive scientist with a brown cowlick and thick, round glasses.
"What is it?" Fury demanded.
"Sir, we called in a team from the S.H.I.E.L.D. Medical Institute to look at the findings from Ground Zero."
"Findings?"
"Microscopic parasites were confirmed in the blood samples on the walls and bedding, as well as within the cranium itself. Open containers of food tested positive. So did her toiletries. Sealed containers were negative."
"The wine?"
"Negative on the inside, but positive on the outside. Someone tried to infect the wine, but apparently these little monsters don't like alcohol."
"Experimental results?"
"Odd, sir." The scientist frowned and looked over his shoulder. "The microbials don't appear to have any adverse affect on their host; we tested on a number of animal subjects. A human could technically be carrying these and show no signs at all, except..."
"I really hate that word, Doctor."
The scientist scowled. "Look here," he said, and handed Fury a computer tablet. "Press 'play'. The chimpanzee was a favorite of mine. Her name was 'Cocoa'; she was with S.H.I.E.L.D. longer than I."
Fury watched as the chimp on the screen hopped off of a stool and shuffled over to a table filled with art supplies. She carefully looked over the piles on the table, chose a marker, and shuffled to a nearby wall, where she started to write. Fury started.
"What does it say?" He demanded.
"We had to call in someone from linguistics. Apparently it's Proto-Indo-European: obviously not a language S.H.I.E.L.D. uses with its lab animals. She wrote "die mans die" over and over again, until one of her caretakers entered the cubicle." The scientist choked up, and Fury scowled at him.
"What happened?"
"Keep watching."
The screen wobbled a little bit as a lab-coated animal wrangler entered the room. Cocoa put down her marker and turned to the caretaker and held up her arms. The man smiled and picked her up. Suddenly he lurched and something red spurted over the camera. Fury's jaw clenched.
"She tore out his throat," the doctor said hoarsely. "He's dead. We had to shoot her," the scientist choked again, "but not before she had torn into half the lab. Several scientists are in the infirmary now. We're monitoring them for signs of infection, but..."
"Understood. Keep me posted." Fury handed the tablet back to the shorter scientist. "How old is this video?"
"About two hours, sir. Trauma teams are still on site. We understand contagion to have taken place about four hours ago, when Cocoa was given food from Ground Zero."
Fury twitched. The bus ride had taken nearly five hours, and any one of his riding companions could have been infected. "I want a drink," he muttered.
"Make it a double," the scientist called out. Fury stopped and looked at the bespectacled man in surprise. "These bugs don't like alcohol," the doctor reminded him.
"Right." He paused a moment. "Make this a Level 10 clearance and above only briefing. Contact Agent Coulson and his team; they have Patient Zero in custody."
"Yes, sir."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
The Greenhouse...medical ward...
Loki swept into the medical ward, carrying Miss Sauer as he would a child. Her neural net was collapsing at an alarming rate, and she had lost the ability to walk. Jemma held the door for them and directed the pair to an examination table, where he lay the young woman down.
"Who speaks?" Loki demanded.
Miss Sauer's head wobbled to one side. "Eldest speaks." Eldest looked around for a moment. "The body needs sustenance."
"I can start a nutritional IV drip combined with a sedative," Jemma offered, stripping off her lab coat.
"Reduced to such primitive methods," Loki growled. "Very well, start your intra-venous feeding, but leave out inhibitive poisons. Where is Miss Sauer's next of kin?"
"Her family is across the country," Agent Coulson spoke up. "I can call her father, but..."
"No time," Loki said tersely. "I need permission from," he looked keenly at Coulson, "a guardian, for this procedure. You," he pointed at Coulson, "share mental energy with Miss Sauer, thanks to the Tesseract. You are related, not by blood, but to the tenth degree. I must have your release to go into her mind."
"You're going to what?" Jemma demanded, aghast. With an IV set up, she tucked a warming blanket around Miss Sauer's body, and gently brushed the young woman's hair away from her face. She pulled down her own pony tail, almost as an afterthought, but she started at Loki's suggestion. "We aren't equipped to do brain surgery!" she protested.
"Peace, Healer," Loki murmured. "I intend no butchery. This mind was damaged telepathically. Its healing must be accomplished the same way." He looked pointedly up at Agent Coulson. "But the procedure is an intimate one, and I am no rapist. What I do: I do to heal. Do you consent, guardian?"
"I do." Coulson pulled Jemma aside. "Monitor as best as you can, and..."
"Get out," Loki rasped. He hunched over Sauer's reposed body, staring down at her forehead.
"What?" Coulson turned to him, surprised.
"Leave," Loki commanded, "and secure the room. Go to your chambers and sleep." He glared at the shocked looks on Agents Coulson's and Simmon's faces. "I did not stammer: this is an intimate procedure. Get OUT!" he growled. Hunched over the examination table, he glared up at Agents Coulson and Simmons, and his eyes began to glow...green.
Coulson nodded, and grabbed his phone as he and Jemma left the operating theatre. He gave Loki a quizzical look. "You're bigger," he said, puzzled.
Loki shrugged. "I ate an energy cell," he reminded him. Grabbing a nearby chair, he enlarged it to accommodate his mass, and then sat down at Miss Sauer's head. He murmured something Coulson could not hear, and gently stroked the young woman's face.
Jemma made the necessary adjustments to the security glass and locked the door before turning to Agent Coulson. "What is he doing in there? I am the medical officer! How can he..."
"Jemma," Coulson sighed, "you're a great scientist, and a wonderful doctor. Think. Loki is not rifling through underwear drawers; he is entering a mind. You just had your first experience with telepathy: what was it like?"
"Ah...um...it was nice," she said, a little perplexed. "The Reis are a very sharing people...it was thoroughly enjoyable...I wouldn't mind trying it again, but with a living specimen, of course..." She ran a hand through her hair and took out her earrings.
"Would you consider them uninhibited?" Coulson pressed.
Jemma frowned and pulled at the buttons on her blouse. "By our standards: yes. The Reis don't wear clothing, have no sexual taboos, and freely mingle with multiple intelligent species. They're peaceful telepaths; that is how they instruct their children and the young of the other races, and..."
"And you've been gradually undressing for the last half hour, Jemma," Coulson chided. "Button up."
Jemma Simmons looked at Agent Coulson first with puzzlement, and then down at herself. "AAHH!" she cried out, and turned her back to Coulson so she could adjust her clothing. "What in the..."
"Simmons, you briefly touched an alien mind, and this was the result. Eldest said that Miss Sauer was still available, but trapped 'down deep'. Loki is going in after her. How vulnerable does that sound?"
"Oh! Right!" Jemma rubbed her forehead. "Oh dear...Skye and Ward..."
Coulson nodded. "Check on them, ask Agent Koenig to join me, and all of you get some sleep. I'll guard the door."
"Yes, sir."
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Loki bent over Miss Sauer's rumpled form, closed his eyes, and passed one hand across her forehead. She was so tiny, so...mortal, a guttering candle...
Why? He asked himself. Why bother?
He did not know, even as his magic burned, urging him forward.
Precautions, he argued, and cast outward first.
The humans in the base numbered less than a dozen. He urged them to sleep, exacerbating their exhaustion. Most were eager to rest, and obeyed the urging to seek a bed, a couch, a comfy chair.
Most, but not all. Garrett reached into his shirt, adjusted something, and surged upright. Ward grabbed several different nerve connections-ones causing pain but not damage, and squeezed. Coulson stiffened at his post just outside the healing room and slapped himself.
Adam Koenig sagged into his computer console and touched a switch, pulling up the security camera in the infirmary. Loki's head snapped up when the camera moved, and he smiled wolfishly.
"No," Koenig rasped, "please. Somebody has to keep watch..." He grabbed another cup of coffee and slammed it, ignoring the burn. "Not safe..."
Loki nodded at the camera. The man-if that was what Koenig was-had Ward in mind. Loki added the image of Garrett and pushed.
Koenig nodded, grabbed a small ICER pistol, and left the Security Lab. Five minutes later Garrett and Ward slept soundly.
Loki let him alone after that.
Dominating wills was easy as pulling a marionette's strings. This...this was different. Mind-blending required nakedness: an emotional and mental stripping beyond his comfort zone. It was raw truth, vulnerability, weakness: the exposed sham that was Loki and his real place in the universe. Loki Unencumbered. Loki Revealed. Always rejected, never good enough, never equal...
He shook himself. Now was not the time for self-doubt or pity.
Magic surged again. Loki blinked and looked into Yygdrasill, the source. Branches had been torn off, and the tree bled. Sap dribbled down into him, pooled at his feet and flowed up into his veins as if he had grown roots. Stop him, the Tree thrummed, Stop Thanos. Go.
Loki nodded, took a breath, turned his gaze back to the mortal woman, and closed his eyes.
A shining, translucent, dragonfly-person hovered in front of him. It extended four hands in greeting even as wings hummmmmmmed behind it.
"Welcome Loki, son of Laufey and Odin. We have been expecting you," said Eldest.
Blood oozed from the soft grey walls around him, and another dragonfly-being swished by him to stroke the damaged cells with healing energy.
"Pardon the mess, O Prince," the Eldest said apologetically. "We still have much to repair."
A blue face, vaguely resembling Anne Sauer, sat monitoring bodily functions. "She seems buried in her own trauma center, your Majesty. I would suggest the Thalamus and Hippocampus for your search. There is a constant flood of memory-inhibiting hormones to the region that I have been unable to stem." The spirit passed ghostly hands across several neural clusters. "I cannot access her logic center at all, to shut it down."
"Then do not try," Loki said crisply. He frowned down at the hybrid-looking spirit. "Who are you?"
"Ask me not who I am, my Lord: ask me who I was," the girl-figure answered demurely. "Here I am called 'Speaker', for I spoke between many. Let not my form disturb you. I was a shape-shifter in life, and I have adjusted what is left of me to make the healing process smoother."
Loki nodded. He understood the mental adjustment. "Be prepared to renounce control of the human when I return with her," he commanded.
She glanced at him nervously. "Of course, my Lord," she replied.
"Can you access the girl's musical memory?"
"Aye, I can, but..."
"Do it. Find music the girl finds soothing and replay the memory for her. Do the same with olfactory memory, to trigger relaxation. Stop when I return."
Speaker hesitated, but then nodded in agreement. "Yes, my Lord."
"You will not be able to go in through her conscious mind," Eldest said, approaching him again. "I would counsel going through her dream center. You may navigate it more safely than Branch or I would."
"Why say you this?" Loki asked sharply.
"Reis do not dream," Branch answered simply. "Nor do we use picturesque metaphors, as huu-mans do. The dreamscape was impossible for us to navigate."
"And to complicate matters, the child has erected a barrier against the Death Addled One's return," Eldest offered. "We cannot get past the dragon at all."
"Dragon?" Loki's eyebrows went up, even as a horrific bellow echoed across the chamber.
Eldest motioned with two of its arms, and a mist cleared. Beyond them a dreamscape of shattered mountains and smoke-pits stretched. Enormous black claws gripped the mountain-tops, and a twisted, black horse-like head rose above the peaks. It roared again and spat fire.
"Dragon."
"Wonderful," said Loki dryly.
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
Elsewhere in the Greenhouse...
Skye tossed on the unfamiliar mattress, wishing she could retreat to her van, but unable to do so in her charmed sleep. Her mind wandered.
SPLASH
Ocean water burned her eyes, and she couldn't tell which way was up. She kicked feebly and reached for the surface, only to find her hands clawing sand. Another wave knocked her over, and her surfboard tether whipped her around. Her lungs were screaming...she couldn't see...
Something grabbed her hand, and in the silted water she barely glimpsed a face. A strong arm pushed her to the surface, and she broke water, sputtering and coughing.
"Mary! Mary Sue!"
How she hated that name!
Something splashed near her as she bobbed in the surf, looking for her board. Long hair, a smile, and a...tail? Mary coughed and reached out for her board.
"Mary?"
Kalo reached her and helped her to shore.
"You ok, hoahanu?"
Kalo was dark, darker than most native Hawaiians, with rock-hard muscles and calloused hands, but he was kind. He had befriended the half-white foster child when others wouldn't even speak to her. He called her 'hoahanu'-cousin. Now he tried to teach the little foundling to surf. She wanted desperately to please him.
"I...I think so." She blew seawater and snot out of her nose, trying desperately not to cry.
"Don't feel bad, hoahanu. That wave was just too big for you. You'll catch on. I wiped out about a million times," he nodded sagely. He caught the look on her face. "What is it?"
"I don't know...did you grab me, out there, and bring me to the surface?" She coughed again, and looked out over the water. The other swimmers and surfers were all far down the beach.
"No, I was too far away."
"I thought...for a minute...never mind, it's crazy." She grabbed her towel and wiped seawater out of her face.
Kalo gave her an odd look. "What?"
"You won't think I'm nuts?"
"I promise!"
"Somebody with long hair helped me up-a girl I think-but for a minute..."
"You thought you saw a tail." Kalo nodded, comprehending. "You aren't nuts."
"What? Mermaids don't exist!" Mary didn't know if she wanted to cry or be angry.
"Says who?" Kalo shrugged. "Lots of things exist, like Pele and Kamohoalii. Only white people call them mermaids. Here we call them the Menehune: the Island People from Before."
"I thought those were like Leprechauns? You know, in the forests and stuff?"
Kalo shrugged. "Yeah, but they're Hawaiians, so they surf and swim, too. Open your mind a little, hoahanu. Be glad it was a Menehune, and not Kamohoalii."
"What's a Kamo-hoa-whatsit?"
"Kamohoalii. He's the Shark God. Fishermen give him a beer to make him go away."
Mary glared up at her friend. "Now you are teasing. Surfers do not carry beer!"
Kalo grinned. "Why do you think he's so pissed off at surfers?" He frowned at her as she began to gather her gear. "A'ole ("No"), we aren't done yet. You need to hit the surf for another 15 minutes. I won't have you leave and be afraid of the ocean."
"But..."
"No buts. I'll come out with you, and you have a menehune looking out for you, so you'll be fine. Hit the surf, Mary Sue."
"I am so changing my name when I grow up," she groused.
Sky snorted and sat up. Why was she dreaming about this now? She had been just 15 ... practically a lifetime ago... She grabbed her tea and turned on the TV for a moment.
"eruptions continue to threaten a village at the base of Kilauea, and locals are being evacuated..."
The news. Of course it was the news.
Skye slept again.
TBC