A/N: Thanks to andytanjiahou95, The Violet Rose, and leathman for reviewing yesterday's chapter (are you three gonna be my regular reviewers? ;)

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

Oh, look - there's plot today!

Chapter V: Taking Up the Gauntlet

28 October 2998

It was well past 1400 by the time Imra finally came home. Garth and Rokk were in the kitchen slurping up a milkshake and finishing a steak, respectively.

"You did say to help ourselves," Garth pointed out when Imra entered and raised her eyebrow at them.

"I used the replicator," said Rokk. "I hope I didn't overstep."

Imra waved a hand. "It's fine." She spied an empty coffee mug on the counter and asked, "Who drank coffee?"

"Wasn't us," said Garth, chugging away at his milkshake. "That was there when we came in."

"Oh. It must be Lyle's, from this morning. He's always forgetting to wash up."

"Still no word from him?" Garth asked sympathetically.

"None." Imra unearthed a tin from a cabinet and withdrew a teabag. She needed something soothing after the day she'd had.

"Who's Lyle?" inquired Rokk.

"A close friend of mine," Imra replied, pouring hot water into a mug. "We were at the game together. He's a big fan of yours."

"Ah." Rokk noticed that Garth was glaring at him, for no reason that he could determine. "What?"

Garth shook his head and didn't answer. "Sci-Pol took your statement?" he asked Imra instead.

"Yes."

"What'd you tell them?"

"The truth. Or, most of it."

Rokk frowned. "What did you leave out?"

"You two," Imra replied. She seemed dissatisfied about something. Rokk was perceptive enough to notice.

"What did the Science Police say?" he questioned. "Do they have any leads yet?"

Imra scowled. "They're barking up the wrong tree with that," she muttered darkly.

"What are you talking about?" asked Garth.

"They don't think it was an intentional attack," Imra responded. "A tech team discovered that the laser machine they used to draw the lines on the Magnoball pitch malfunctioned – Sci-Pol think that's what threw the lasers around."

Garth was astonished. "Didn't you tell them what you sensed?"

Imra sounded frustrated. "Of course I did, but they're keen to wrap this up quickly. There's been a string of high-profile homicides recently – murders of famous or wealthy people – and the public's putting real pressure on NMPD to solve them. Their caseload is already heavy and all the evidence seems to point to the laser machine – they don't want to entertain any notions that it might not be so cut-and-dry."

"Hold on – they're not even going to consider the idea that it wasn't the machine?" Rokk was rather alarmed that the Science Police didn't appear to be taking the attempt on his life seriously.

"The machine did release most of the lasers, and it was around that time," Imra allowed. "My hunch is that the only laser that wasn't fired by the machine was the first one aimed at you, and whoever took the shot tampered with the machine so it would cover his tracks."

"By creating more chaos and providing a perfectly innocent explanation for the laser," Rokk concluded. "No one would have counted exactly how many lasers were fired – the one aimed at me would easily be passed off as another one from the machine."

"Hold on – NMPD bought that?" Garth said in disbelief. "Those idiots. But can't you make them listen to you? I thought you were a Sci-Pol officer?"

"Whatever gave you that idea?" asked Imra.

"Before, in the car, you said you'd learned to drive at Sci-Pol Academy."

"I haven't graduated yet. Technically, I have no authority, so I can't make them investigate other possibilities."

"Bureaucrats," Rokk sighed.

"Speaking of which," Garth said to Imra, "are your parents in the government? I came across a 'Reward for Services Rendered' plaque in one of the rooms."

Imra nodded. "My mother is the Titanian ambassador to Earth. We moved here when I was four."

"Your AI – Merriweather – told us that she's away," said Rokk. Imra nodded.

"She's on Titan, visiting my father and sister. She won't be back till next week."

"You guys don't all live together?" Garth sounded perplexed.

Imra smiled ruefully. "My father is a high-ranking official within the Titanian government. He couldn't possibly relocate to Earth. And my mother didn't want to turn down the ambassadorial position."

"How come you decided to follow your mom to Earth?"

Imra shrugged. "My sister was only two at the time – there was no way she was moving to Earth, and I didn't want my mother to move alone."

"I think that was very thoughtful of you," Rokk told her with a smile. Imra smiled back.

An instant later Rokk yelped and snatched his hands from the table as an electric current ran through the metal top. Garth cursed loudly as he too pulled his hands away.

"Will you stop doing that?" Rokk exclaimed irritably, with a tone that indicated that this wasn't the first time it had happened. "That must be the third time you've shocked me today." His eyes widened as recalled the momentary 'static shock' he'd felt in the Botanic Gardens before the Magnoball game. "Hang on – this morning in the Gardens, that was you as well! That's four times in as many hours! What is wrong with you?"

"Sorry, sorry," Garth mumbled.

"He can't help it," interjected Imra. "He doesn't have full control over the lightning."

"Are you serious?" Rokk studied Garth. "You must be at least 15 – you should have mastered your abilities by now."

"I wasn't born with them, all right?" Garth retorted, annoyed at Rokk's holier-than-thou tone.

"You weren't?"

"Since when have Winathians been born with lightning powers?" Garth demanded. "And for your information, I'll be turning 16 in a couple of weeks."

"You're from Winath?" Rokk examined him more closely. "I didn't know."

"Well, you never asked, did you?" Garth said sourly.

Rokk bristled. "Hey, there's no call for that kind of tone."

"What tone?"

"That tone!"

"Both of you, shut up!" Imra snapped, causing both boys to startle as they turned to her. "I have had a long, hectic day, and it's barely the middle of the afternoon, and you two shouting at each other in my kitchen while I'm graciously putting both of you up in my house is not helping!"

There was a short beat of silence as Garth and Rokk exchanged somewhat sheepish glances.

"Sorry," Garth said.

"I apologize," Rokk added.

Imra sighed. "Me too. It's the stress talking." She made her way to the table and sat down next to Rokk. "Okay," she told them, "what I'm about to say may sound crazy, but the way I see it, there's only one thing we can do. I know what I sensed, Rokk, and you were definitely in danger – you probably still are. However, NMPD is clearly not going to listen to us, and my mother, the only person who could perhaps persuade them to do so, is off-planet. The only option left to us would be to investigate this ourselves."

"Us?" Rokk repeated incredulously.

"I don't think it's crazy at all," said Garth, grinning at Imra. He was clearly relishing the prospect of taking action on their own. "If those idiots at NMPD don't want to see what's in front of their noses, and we know that something's amiss, we should take matters into our own hands."

Rokk gaped at them both. "Are you listening to yourself? We're three teenagers against an unknown assassin, without training and without the resources the Sci-Pol have."

"I have training," Imra reminded him.

"And we have advantages the Sci-Pol don't have," Garth pointed out. For a moment he looked as though he were going to make lightning again, and Rokk and Imra both reared back cautiously. Garth scowled. "All right, so I need to get better at the lightning thing. But both of you have really good control over your powers – can't you help me with that?"

Imra and Rokk exchanged glances.

"I can help," Imra agreed.

Rokk sighed. "I suppose I can too," he acquiesced reluctantly. "Are we really going to do this?"

"Don't you want to find out who's trying to kill you? Or are you too chicken?" Garth said challengingly.

Rokk's eyes narrowed at him. "I'm not chicken."

"Prove it, then. After all, it's your life that's in danger."

Rokk glared at him. Imra said reprovingly, "Garth."

Garth shrugged, unrepentant. "So you in or what?" he asked Rokk, who set his jaw.

"Fine, I'm in."

Shvaughn swiped her hand across the e-paper, touch-writing out the full report of her investigative team's efforts regarding the Botanic Gardens incident to give to Chief Norg, who would approve it before declaring the investigation officially closed. Any other ranking Sci-Pol officer would have felt jubilant at wrapping up a case of this magnitude in less than 24 hours, but Shvaughn merely counted herself lucky that what could have been a torrid investigation had instead been resolved quickly and efficiently, with a conclusion that didn't result in an absolute PR nightmare. If it had turned out that there actually was someone deliberately aiming shots at a team as famous as the Magnetic Knights while they were on tour in New Metropolis, the press – mainly that insatiable Loretta Lane – would've had a field day tearing NMPD to shreds for their failure (never mind that they weren't actually at fault for anything).

Fortunately, that outcome had been avoided. Analysis from both the technology and ballistics departments had confirmed that the lasers had come from the machine used to etch lines on the Magnoball pitch – the disaster in the Botanic Gardens had been nothing more than a tragic accident due to malfunctioning equipment. The final death toll was 52 – some had sustained fatal injuries from the misfiring lasers, while others had been crushed in the panicking crowd. The Magnetic Knights were unharmed and intact, with the exception of Captain Krinn, who had not been seen since the ill-fated game and was being labelled as a missing person. Shvaughn was fervently thankful that that particular can of worms had been assigned to someone else to handle. She did pity the company that had provided the laser machine, though – if Krinn had been injured or killed in the accident, or even if he failed to reappear, the Magnetic Knights would sue them for all they were worth.

Shvaughn completed the last sentence in her report and picked up her stylus to pen her signature below it, but she hesitated, recalling the statement given by Cadet Ardeen. While the majority of the department agreed that the Botanic Gardens had been an accident, Cadet Ardeen had been quite insistent that there truly was a conspiracy afoot, claiming that her telepathy had picked up deliberate intent to kill from an unknown shooter. Shvaughn didn't think there was anything in them, but she had dutifully conveyed Ardeen's suspicions to Chief Norg. The chief had been rather impatient with the very idea, regardless of his personal connection to Ardeen and her mother, and insisted that none of the evidence pointed that way. Shvaughn at first had been rather inclined to agree with him (she wanted to close this case as much as he did) – but in retrospect, perhaps Ardeen might have been on to something? Telepathy was a useful, but inexact science, but Shvaughn had heard whispers that Ardeen was extraordinarily talented even by Titanian standards. Moreover, it was entirely possible that Chief Norg had been distracted, however slightly, by his concern for his still-missing son.

Thoughtfully, Shvaughn set her stylus down, wondering if the matter was worth pursuing. There was nothing wrong with signing her name and closing this investigation now, because all the necessary channels had been followed and all the evidence did indeed point to it being an accident – but if there was a chance that it hadn't been an accident, her conscience told her she should explore the possibility.

Then again, how far could the Science Police be expected to go? NMPD already had a backlog of cases as well as a series of high-profile homicides to worry about (people were beginning to suspect a serial killer); taking on another major case on the basis of one cadet's (admittedly dubious) testimony would be foolish in the extreme.

Shvaughn was only allowed several seconds to wrestle with the problem before a comscreen appeared over her desk.

"Lieutenant Erin, there's an incoming call for you from Mars' Division One."

"Patch it through," Shvaughn instructed. A second later two people appeared on the comscreen, standing in front of the reddish background of Mars' Division One Sci-Pol communications room: a tall, broad-shouldered, brown-haired young man and a shorter, petite woman with cropped dark hair. "Lieutenant Cusimano, Officer Allon," she greeted. "What news?"

"R.J. Brande has just arrived on Mars," Gigi Cusimano responded. "He's informed us that he will only be here one week, after which he's intending to travel straight to New Metropolis."

Shvaughn groaned. "He's not detouring to Osterkey first?"

"Apparently not. I thought you should know. I tried to call Chief Norg, but he's inaccessible."

Shvaughn sighed. "We had some trouble here earlier – his son's AWOL."

"Lyle?" Officer Allon looked concerned. He was a rookie, barely a year out of the Academy, posted to Mars shortly after his graduation to partner Cusimano. During his Academy days he'd been good friends with both Cadet Ardeen and Chief Norg's son. "What happened?"

Shvaughn gave them a very brief summary of what had occurred during the Magnetic Knights' Magnoball game. "It couldn't have happened at a worse time, what with all the homicides here recently," she bemoaned.

"Yes, I'd heard about that," said Cusimano. "So many influential people in New Metropolis killed within a fortnight. Is it the same perpetrator?"

"We don't know yet. And speaking of which, I have to get back to work. Thanks for the update – I'll let the chief know."

Shvaughn ended the transmission and leaned back in her chair, trying to stave off an imminent headache.

R.J. Brande's arrival was going to put even more stress on an already overstretched NMPD. The wealthy Durlan industrialist had been travelling across the galaxy for several weeks as part of his new charity campaign, and had been slated to arrive in New Metropolis – after spending a short R&R visit on his estate in Osterkey – a week later than Cusimano reported before he'd changed his plans. While his cause was a noble one, Shvaughn wondered if he knew just how much headache he was causing for the Science Police, who had to ensure his safety while he was in their city. As a galactic public figure who was extremely active in both business and politics, Brande had many enemies, and any one of them wouldn't mind taking advantage of a charity event to be rid of him.

Nevertheless, she mused as she reached for her case report, this did settle her dilemma quite definitively. With Brande due to arrive within a week, there was no way NMPD could afford to spare people for a deeper investigation into the Botanic Gardens incident.

She lifted her stylus and signed the report without a second thought.

A/A:

1. The connection between the Ardeens and the Norgs will be explained later.

2. Yeah, I couldn't resist a 52 reference. Don't know why - it's not like I like the New 52.