Starlight
February 16, 1940
The stars held the answers. They always had. They always would. The entire history of the universe was present in the splatter of color and light that painted the sky every night. The challenge was in discerning what they had to say. A challenge that had consumed Ted Knight's life even before he was on Uncle Sam's payroll.
The halls, laboratories, offices and test chambers of the Gaines Institute for Advanced Science or Vanguard Research Lab Alpha, as it was designated on purely internal documents, were becoming more familiar. He no longer got lost as often when heading to the cafeteria or looking for his fellow researchers. It was its own world with its own geography and rules that governed it. There was a sterile quality to the corridors, the result of a vast network of ventilation that allowed them to function underground. A lack of sunlight for much of the day was an obstacle for some of the personnel, but Ted was used to being cooped up in his observatory, emerging at night more than day. He had no idea how large the complex was. He speculated about it with the other scientists at lunch and dinner, but every estimation fell short of the totality. There was always a new glimpse of a previously unseen wing.
The other adjustment Ted was still in the process of making was being in charge of a team of researchers and engineers. Alton Howell, Linda Riggs, Norman Glass and Lula Edwards were his constant companions, all experts in their fields. He was used to being the only one accountable for making his ideas a reality. Now it was a joint process, with all the contributions and discussions that came with it. Doris, his girlfriend, thought it was a wonderful development, though Ted was unable to tell her any specifics about their research. "You could use the practice with socializing," she said. It was nice to have others that understood what he was talking about.
Their lab was tasked with developing new methods of power generation based on the research that Ted and the others had done into harnessing forms of novel radiation. Namely cosmic radiation. He was unsure how much Vanguard knew about his work on the cosmic rod, the one he tinkered with in his free time. This was a more complex task. The scale that they desired was beyond anything Ted had considered in his personal work. The benefit was they had the budget to match that ambition.
It was also a pleasure to be exposed to the varying disciplines of the scientists in the other labs, to the extent that they were allowed to share their work. The heads of the facility, Doctor Liebowitz and Major Donenfeld, made it clear that operation secrecy was the imperative. Every letter Ted wrote to Doris was no doubt read multiple times and he had a feeling on they kept eyes on him during his days off. Even with that burden of restraint, it was already a ritual to spend his lunch with a collection of the others.
"I swear Ted, it must be nice to work with people that listen to you most of the time. One of these days I'm not going to be at lunch because I've finally snapped and bludgeoned Thomas with my wrench," said Will Magnus.
"It's not all smooth-sailing. Norman and I spent the last three days debating the exact dimensions of the transceiver we're working on," said Ted.
"At least you can settle your differences like a normal person. Morrow starts every argument with the belief that he's right," said Will. Will Magnus was a professor from California, with a specialization in the fledgling field of robotics. His partner, Thomas Morrow, was one of the more eccentric members of their eccentric-by-design group of scientists.
"Which I'm sure you never do?" said Saul Erdel. Saul's field crossed over with Ted's in that he was an astronomer with a specialization in signal detection. The code breakers at the Signal Intelligence Service had tried to poach him before Major Donenfeld put an end to it.
"The difference, Saul, is that I am right," said Will. The others laughed.
"If nothing else, it's good entertainment," said Rebecca Irons. She and Saul were two of the only black researchers in the facility. Iron's project was something to do with new fabrication methods for aircraft. She had been here longer than almost any of the others.
"At least," said Will. "I wish Robert could be there more often, but they've got him working with Dr. Megala and Dr. Caulder more often than not."
"Where is Dr. Caulder? I never see him eat out here," said Ted.
"He eats in his lab. Robert said the man seldom leaves it," said Will.
"There's no need to pry. Dr. Caulder can be odd, but he's been nothing but pleasant when I've talked to him," said Rebecca.
Will muttered in agreement and the conversation fragmented between everyone at the table. Dr. Janet Klyburn joined them. Ted took the lull to take a survey of the cafeteria. It was a good barometer of how everyone was faring in their work. It was not uncommon for the scientists to come in haggard and bleary eyed from long hours in the lab, working at a critical juncture of their projects.
Robert Crane ate with Thomas Morrow, who was deep into a story of some sort by the looks of his overblown gestures. Dr. Iker and Dr. Megala sat at the same table, but neither of them spoke to one another. Ted's team were together. The only scientist that sat entirely alone was the one that did so every day. At least when he was present at lunch.
Dr. Malachi Zee.
"Have any of you ever talked to Dr. Zee?" said Ted. All of his companions answered no, save for Saul.
"Only briefly. He's not a man that enjoys small talk. Why?" said Saul.
"Just curious. Agent Faraday brought me by his lab when I first came here. Some experiment with a vanishing pear," said Ted.
"I couldn't tell you what his work entails," said Saul.
There was no time for more questions as the bell rang that signaled the end of lunch. Ted threw out his leftovers and returned to the task of harnessing the stars.
March 22, 1940
"Ted call it a night," said Norman.
The others joined in his request.
"We do actually have to finish the prototype at some point," said Ted.
The expansive lab felt cramped with the near-completion of their receiver. A towering antennae that Ted intended to use to draw in and capture the cosmic radiation that he studied. A miniaturized version of the same technology was in his cosmic rod, though he had never managed to get the charge rate constant.
"It's an off weekend. I don't want to spend it exhausted," said Linda.
"The receiver is nearly there. Only a few more hours…"
"Ted. Some of us have a long drive to get back home. There's always next week," said Lula. If she was complaining there was merit. She kept as long hours as Ted. Perhaps a natural insomniac like him.
"Fine," he relented.
They cleaned up the lab as best they could. Ted lingered longer than the rest. There was an almost religious quality to the work he had come to discover. This receiver was his offering to the cosmos, a way to reach out and become a part of that tapestry of the universe more than his humble presence on Earth could allow. The others didn't share his understanding of the work, but their perseverance in the name of science and patriotism was enough. Mostly.
"Fella, you look lost," said the man in the pickup truck. He wore a dark green jumpsuit and a flat cap with a small sun embroidered on the side of it.
"There's supposed to be a bus service. To the train station," said Ted, checking his watch. It was late, but that had never stopped him before.
"You missed the notices then. Bus is broken down."
"Oh."
"You said the train station? It's on the way. May as well hop in."
The man in the truck, Greg Vasquez, was a fellow worker at Vanguard. He had a habit of running his fingers through his mustache as he talked, steering the truck confidently with one hand.
"Maintenance division," said Greg.
"I can't imagine the work that goes into that facility," said Ted.
"I'm the one doing it and I can't imagine it half the time. I tell you, I've seen some stuff."
"Oh?"
"I can't go into it all for the obvious reasons, but when there's a problem in a lab, who do they have fix it? The egg heads in it? No offense. Nope. Maintenance division. I'd wager I've seen more of the projects than the bosses at any rate," said Greg.
"Seems like a prime posting if you were a spy," said Ted.
"I doubt it. Getting this job was the hardest part. Hooked me up to one of them polygraph machines, talked to my neighbors, my past employers, all that noise. Plus we're usually accompanied by security if we go the really high end sections."
The truck drove past row after row of empty fields. Other than the complex and a small neighborhood built for the on-site staff there was really nothing around for miles. Ted couldn't get used to it.
"You live around here, Greg?"
"Cleveland. Got my family there. You?"
"Opal City."
"That's a haul. I've been there once. Beautiful place."
"It's nice. My family and my girlfriend are back there."
"I can see why you're so eager to catch your train," said Greg.
"She was real proud of me when I got the opportunity. I think the novelty's worn off at this point," said Ted.
"I know what you mean. If it weren't for the money my wife wouldn't put up with it."
"A part of me is waiting for the letter that tells me its over."
"Have a little faith pal. You're here for a reason. If it happens it happens in the way things are meant to go."
Ted wasn't sure that he could ascribe to that philosophy. The knee jerk reaction to that concept was one of dismissal for a scientist. Yet, his work raised the issues of how much control any one component of a complex system could exert. Whether or not they were all just tiny gears in an infinitely complex machine. There was some comfort in Greg's belief.
A small convoy of cars with government plates passed them going the opposite direction. The train station was a measly thing, a barebones building. Not many reasons to be getting off here, in the middle of nowhere.
"Safe travels Mr. Knight," said Greg.
"Call me Ted. I'll see you around," he said, putting his hat on as he caught the midnight train to Opal City.
March 24, 1940
"Ted you're not even trying," said Doris Lee.
"Sorry dear, I was distracted," said Ted.
He imagined that many had a special relation with the sunsets in their homelands. There was a magical quality to the hour of twilight that inspired such introspection. Opal City's were wondrous. The falling light caught the ornate structures of the city in just the right way, the dying light filtered through thousands of multi-colored windows. Some felt dread at the onset of night. For Ted, it was as though his day had only begun, his companions, the stars returned to him.
"What did you say about my parents?" said Ted.
They were on a restaurant terrace in the heart of the city. Doris was distractingly lovely, the only thing that could draw his sight from the fading sun. Still, Ted was a man caught in the interstitial. Try as he might, his returns to Opal were always permeated with the lingering sense of impermanence, as his mind drifted back to the Vanguard labs.
"They're worried about your cousin. Your uncle has been pulling every string he has with the French to find her," said Doris.
"Oh, Sandra," said Ted. Her stay in Europe was complicated by the German's invasion of Poland. They had not made their play on France yet, but it was clear that that was a real possibility. He didn't know why Sandra hadn't left yet.
"Is that all you can muster for her?" said Doris.
"I fear that there's little I can do that my uncle cannot." She was a pinprick that troubled him enough that he tried not to think about it. Her father was a senator and if he was having difficulties then Ted had no ideas.
"I don't know what I'm going to do with you Ted," said Doris.
Doris cradled her glass of wine, leaning back in her seat as she appraised Ted. He didn't mean to disappoint her. It seemed to be a consistent skill of his, even before his change of employment. She finished the glass, then excused herself to the ladies' room, leaving Ted to stew.
"You seem to be in a delicate spot my friend," said a man at a nearby table.
"A familiar position I'm afraid," said Ted.
"At least you're honest about your shortcomings. Though honesty without the effort to change is a poor solace," said the man.
Ted paid his new conversational partner more attention. He was older than Ted, with stark, black hair. He wore a trim grey suit. His face was caught in shadow, but the white of his eyes stood out.
"This sounds like you have experience," said Ted.
"All I know is that a woman like your friend is worth the effort. Life can be a lonely stroll to the grave, lest we populate our journey with companions," said the man.
This conversation had already reached strange corners. The man was prone to a philosophical bent that surpassed the norms of small talk.
"Are you finished, Ted?" said Doris, returned to the table.
"Yes. Just let me say one more thing to…" said Ted.
The man was gone. No sign of him at all in the rest of the establishment.
"What are you looking for?" said Doris.
"The man I was talking… Never mind. Let's go."
"Are you sure?"
"I go back tomorrow and from the looks of that dinner I've got plenty of making up to do with you," said Ted.
Doris rolled her eyes, but she took his hand all the same.
May 1, 1940
Ted was late. After hours calculations at his quarters had meant a delayed bedtime and he slept in more than he planned. There was a process to getting back into the facility, a sequence of checkpoints and rituals that had to be observed, meaning the stress of getting to the lab was compounded. He stepped on just the other side of panic through the web of corridors. He waved a brisk hello to Greg Vasquez, who pushed a cart overflowing with equipment and sheet metal. After his trip with the man, Ted became acutely aware of Greg and the army of maintenance workers that made up the backbone of the staff.
He was about two minutes from his lab when there was a noise like a car backfiring. A shotgun blast of smoke spit out of a nearby door, bursting on the far wall. Ted skidded to a halt as a human figure wrapped in flame stumbled into the hall. He expected screams, but the person was beyond that, the only noise the crackle of the fire and a stifled wheeze. A man in a lab coat ran out beyond his burning colleague shouting for help.
Ted regained awareness. One benefit of working in a governmental facility was the numerous and clearly marked emergency storage rooms. Ted seized a fire blanket and dashed back to the hall, where the victim rolled on the ground. He threw the blanket around them, doing his best to smother the flames without catching fire himself. Every tentative breath scorched his lungs with the thick smoke.
Someone grabbed Ted's shoulder. He flinched.
"Ted! The fire's out. Let's see the man," said Greg. He pulled off his cap and used it to beat away the smoke that collected in the hall.
A crowd was forming in the hallway, people coming out of their work spaces to see the disaster. Ted pulled off the blanket. He did his best to be gentle, but skin sloughed off all the same. There wasn't much left to identify the victim in his current state. Only the faintest of breathing could be seen.
"Jesus Christ, it's Dr. Crane," said someone.
"There was an explosion in the lab," said another.
"Where are the medics?" said Ted.
Someone bumped him as they continued down the hall, past the scene of the accident. Ted repeated his question to the onlookers.
"They're on the way," said Will Magnus, his head peaking from the crowd.
"They won't make it in time," said a man rolling toward the victim in a wheelchair. Dr. Caulder.
"Help me get him to my lab."
The others remained stunned.
"Help me now or Crane dies," said Dr. Caulder.
A handful of the onlookers including Greg threw Crane's body onto a cleared off maintenance cart. They wheeled him off alongside Caulder, as everyone else watched. Ted stood there, clutching the fire blanket until Will urged him to move.
"Come on Ted. The fire's out."
"Make no mistake. There will be a full investigation into the events surrounding the incident in lab eight. We can't rule out anything at the moment, but we have no reason to believe that this wasn't an accident at present. We understand this kind of event can bear unpleasant thoughts for everyone involved. All we ask is that you continue to follow the protocol, namely the safety procedures relevant to your areas of study," said Agent Faraday.
"What about Robert? Is he alive?" said Thomas Morrow.
"Dr. Crane is being taken care of. We can't confirm whether or not he'll survive at present, but we are doing everything in our power to save his life," said Agent Faraday. "Take the rest of the day off."
The crowd summoned to a meeting in a briefing room Ted had never been to began to disperse. It struck him that he didn't know what to do with the rest of his day if he didn't have the lab work. Rebecca Irons caught up with him.
"I heard you saved Crane."
"Barely. I put out the flames, but too little, too late it sounds like," said Ted.
"You acted though. Not everyone could've kept their head."
"Not my first time dealing with a fire. I almost burned my old house down a couple times working on projects. Just never seen a person involved before."
"I'm not sorry I missed the action. My lab's on the other side. Didn't stop a whole bunch of us from rushing over to see it. Only person I saw going the other way was Dr. Zee." Rebecca cocked her head. "What's with that look?"
Ted shrugged. "Nothing. Forget about it," he said.
One nagging piece clicked into place from earlier in the day. The person that has bumped into Ted and left the scene had stark red hair. There was only one scientist that fit the description.
July 8, 1940
"Now or never Knight," said Norman Glass.
"Let's make it now."
They weren't in their usual lab, instead standing within the greater expanse of the test range. The cosmic receiver towered over them, creating a crisscrossed shadow over the ground and the party of onlookers assembled for it. This included the entire team, Agent Faraday, Dr. Liebowitz, Major Donenfeld and Dr. Kristine Wheeler, a consultant from another obscure governmental agency that Ted forgot immediately upon hearing. Ted and Norman had the dubious honor of working the controls.
Ted gave the signal and Norman pulled his lever. The hair on his and everyone else's skin stood up. The receiver hummed. The readout display told Ted that all was working within the expected parameters. One by one, Ted and Norman traded off switches. The receiver was casting an invisible net, one that would expand all the way into the heavens themselves, to draw down the invisible wellspring of cosmic radiation that sat in the backdrop.
Lula called out that the first energy reserve had been filled, prompting Alton to initiate the change to the second battery. A blinking light told Ted everything was about to go to hell. A barrage of alarms went off in close sequence. He barked orders to the others, but there was no changing course at this point. The hum spiked into a sharp cry that culminated in a snap. The tip of the receiver fizzled and combusted.
"I left MIT for this post," said Norman.
Ted, Norman and Lula were slumped against a wall back in their laboratory with the remains of the receiver. It hadn't settled for merely shorting out, instead opting to overload the first battery and cause a minor explosion. Liebowitz and Donenfeld hadn't even stayed for the debrief. Faraday just smiled and said, "Better luck next time."
"They haven't told us to clear out yet," said Lula.
"Dr. Iker got the boot last week. His whole team too," said Norman.
"It wasn't a total failure. We just need to get the energy transfer locked down," said Ted.
"That's been the last three months. That'll be the next three if they keep us," said Norman. "I don't know if we can manage to harness that much energy with what we've got."
Storage was the problem. It took Ted years of tinkering to come up with a prototype of the cosmic rod that didn't immediately short out. This was the same problem magnified by a factor of one thousand.
"Maybe we could transfer. I heard a few of the folks in lab four went to the NDRC," said Lula.
The National Defense Research Committee. There was next to no information about what went on there, but it was on par with Vanguard in terms of secrecy.
"Lab four didn't burn out in front of the brass," said Norman.
"We'll pick ourselves up. Handle whatever comes down the pipe," said Ted.
Norman got up.
"Easy for you to say. You've got money to fall back on if this goes sideways. All I have is my professional reputation," said Norman.
The man left in a hurry.
"Come on now," said Lula.
"No, it's true," said Ted. "He's right."
"We're on the edge of what's possible. There are going to be stumbles in pursuit of new roads," said Lula.
Is that what Robert was? A stumble on the road to progress?
July 10, 1940
"You hear about that lady that swam the English Channel?" said Greg.
"The one from Dunkirk?" said Ted. The men were walking to their quarters in the small town that ringed in the facility.
"Right you are. They've got her going on tour around the country. An example of American excellence. She's even coming to Cleveland. Too bad we don't have a break that week," said Greg.
"I'll have to see if she comes to Opal. I already missed the ceremony with Wonder Woman," said Ted. 'Doris sent me a photo she took."
"What a shame. You've got to join me next week to listen to the ball game. All the fellas from maintenance bet on it."
Greg started on a conversation about the latest in sports, when Ted spied a man about to get into a car carrying a suitcase. It was Dr. Erdel. Ted excused himself from the conversation and jogged over before Saul could get in the vehicle.
"Good lord Ted. You spooked me," said Saul.
"I didn't know we were allowed vacation time this week," said Ted.
Saul set his bag down. He motioned to the driver to wait.
"Well that's just it, Ted. We're not."
"You're leaving?"
Saul nodded.
"Why? I thought your research was going well…"
"It is. Only it's not the kind of research they want," said Saul.
"What do you mean?"
Saul gave Ted a withering look, uncommon for the man.
"Come on Ted. You're a bright fellow. There's a war on the horizon. It's already here for millions. The government isn't interested in projecting signals into space. They want war machines. What do you think we're here for?"
Ted was quiet. He had known more than he wanted to admit.
"This isn't me telling you what to do. You've got a heart. I heard about how quickly you helped Robert. All I can say is that I've reached my line. The one I won't cross," said Saul.
The driver rapped his knuckles on the window. Saul retrieved his suitcase.
"Where are you going to go?" said Ted.
"Midway City's got a research institute that'll take me. Between that and teaching at one of the universities, I'll get by," said Saul.
Ted helped him load his bags into the car. The men shook hands. Saul gave him one last look as he got in the passenger seat.
"Stay safe Ted. You'll find your line one way or another."
July 21, 1940
"Norman's transferred. Linda's put in a request and Alton's been feeling his way into another position," said Agent Faraday.
"So it sounds like I'm all wet," said Ted.
"Not fully. You've still got Lula. The brass hasn't called it quits on you."
"What am I supposed to do with one person and a broken machine?"
"That's why you're the genius not me," said Faraday.
"Which lab did Norman get?" said Ted.
"Dr. Zee. Not that he'll last."
Ted raised an eyebrow.
"Man goes through assistants faster than I go through whiskey. He's made more people quit than any other lead."
"Any reason for that?"
"He's a pill from what I hear."
"What's his area?"
"Ah, ah ah. I like you Ted, but that's out of bounds. Stick to the space juice."
Will Magnus finished packing his pipe. He flicked his lighter and puffed contemplatively. They were in Ted's quarters. Ted was looking through a telescope that he had set up as a makeshift observatory.
"You look like an old timer with that thing," said Ted.
"My great-grandpa hooked me on it."
"You knew your great-grandfather?" said Ted.
"Yep. Salt of the earth if there ever was. He was in the Navy back when they were on ironclads. Fought in the Civil War. Moved out west and lived till he was ninety, smoking his pipe the whole way."
"Well, I'll be."
"Let a man enjoy his smoke. I get antsy without it in the lab," said Will.
Ted peeked through the telescope.
"I'm the same with this thing," said Ted.
"Less impressive than the ol'observatory back in Opal?" said Will.
"Doesn't hold a candle," said Ted.
He found one of his favorite points of reference. The dying star, the one he discovered.
"You think Robert's dead?" said Will.
"I don't know," said Ted.
"I wish they'd tell us. One way or another."
Something in Will's tone made Ted sit up from the telescope.
"What's wrong Will?"
"We hit a milestone on our project."
"But, you're not fishing for a congratulations…"
"I was relieved when they finally gave Thomas his own lab. Let him work on his part of the project, but… They're clever. Splitting the research into sections. Giving us each a puzzle to solve. They know how most of us think. Unable to leave a problem alone.
I put it together though. I had enough of Thomas's old notes to figure it out. We built them a weapon. An autonomous one. A robot soldier. I figured out the sensory systems. Thomas handled the decision making, the thinking if you will. I wouldn't be shocked to find out Rebecca or Dr. Megala or one of the others put together the body. All of us fitting it together bit by bit."
Ted didn't know if he should hear this, but there was no way of stopping Will at this point. Something in the man had come uncorked and there was no stemming the wellspring that poured forth.
"I ever tell you how I got my start researching automation?" said Will.
Ted shook his head. The man puffed at his pipe.
"I had a friend back in college. Tina was the name. We were inseparable. I think we'd be married by now if not for the quake back in '33. I was out of town. I found out later she had been trapped in the rubble. 'Too dangerous to excavate. Too high a risk to human life to go in after her.' That's what they told me."
"Jesus," said Ted at a whisper.
"All I could think of was a talk I had heard a few weeks before. I don't even remember the lecturer's name, but I know what he talked about. How one day robots would do the jobs too dangerous for us mere mortals. How they could save people 'at no risk to human life'."
Will repacked his pipe.
"You know where the word robot comes from Ted?"
"No."
"Rossumovi Univerzální Roboti. It's a play by a Czech fellow named Karel Capek. They're not quite machines in it, but the crux of the work is that they end up wiping us out. When it comes down to it we can't make the grade against the robots."
Ted didn't respond.
"I thought I understood what I was doing when I went into all this. Now I have a feeling what Capek would think of what we've done. Or Tina."
July 26, 1940
"Where's Greg?" said Ted.
The other workers returned blank looks, shrugs and upturned palms. Many of them were too busy listening to the ball game on the radio to properly respond to Ted. A pile of coins sat on the table in the break room. Ted joined them on Greg's insistence every few days. It had become a habit the past few weeks.
"Haven't seen him in a few days," said one.
"Think he might be back in Cleveland," said another, a woman named Melanie. "You can check with Julian at personnel."
Ted didn't go immediately to find out, instead returning to the lab to continue his work. Progress was hard fought on the receiver, but he and Lula hadn't quit. Alton had returned, his tail between his legs, but they hadn't given him too much grief. Norman looked worn down the times Ted saw him. Zee lived up to his reputation. Not that Ted's group had it much easier. The last few weeks felt like a dead sprint to make up for lost time. Not enough downtime. He had wanted to see his friend Alan Scott over the most recent break, but the man was busy with his new job at the GBC. Both of them victims of success.
The hunt for the personnel office sent Ted to a new branch of the complex, further complicating his mental map. Julian was an overweight man with a comb over and a penchant for chewing gum during conversation. He was bored by Ted even before his requests required the man to go digging through the files. Only the promise of a dollar for his troubles changed the mood.
"Says he quit," said Julian.
"What? When?"
"A week ago."
"That's whacky. I saw Greg last week. Hell, I saw Greg three days ago."
"Read the file pal."
The date was clear. One week ago today. Julian would be no more help so Ted left.
The maintenance offices were tucked away towards the edges of the facility in a series of rooms that smelled of grease. Several industrial elevators sat nearby, their rise and fall a backdrop to Ted's conversation with the woman in charge of managing the paperwork. It took another bribe, but he got his hands on the logbook for the department. His eyes scanned the book till they rested on Greg Vasquez, while his finger traced along the row to see where his last work order came from.
Lab Nine. Dr. Zee.
August 3, 1940
"I heard it was a foreign attack," said Alton.
"There's no proof. None," said Rebecca Irons.
"I'm with her. Why wouldn't they just confirm that?" said Lula.
"I have a cousin that works in DC. He said it was the Russians," said Alton.
This conversation had spread through the complex in the past few days. Wonder Woman and the Justice Society's daring rescue of the president. Everyone had an opinion on it, something to say.
"I'd love to see them in person," said Lula.
"That would involve you being in a disaster or super villain attack," said Dr. Janet Klyburn.
"They show up at charity events too. The Flash did a show in Central City at the stadium for the Red Cross," said Lula.
"My favorite is Black Canary," said Alton.
"Of course it is," said Janet.
"Can't fault a guy for having taste," said Alton. "Magnus?"
"Pass," said Will.
"No fun. Ted?"
"I saw Green Lantern once. In person."
"Really?" said Lula.
"A fellow with a freeze ray tried to rob some shindig I got dragged to by my girlfriend. The Icicle I think. Green Lantern showed up and gave him a thrashing."
"He's the most handsome," said Lula. "I can tell there's a sophistication behind that mask."
Ted zoned out of the remainder of the conversation, offering distracted answers to further curiosity about his encounter. His sight was fixed on the main door to the cafeteria, as it had been the past two days. It was only now that he saw the man he waited for walk in. Dr. Zee. Ted waited till the doctor got his food and took his solitary place to excuse himself from the table and leave. The timing on this opportunity was tight, with no guarantee of success. Ted ignored the lurching feeling in his stomach as he found his way to lab nine. The researchers were required to turn in their keys when they went to meals or left the facility. The only other people that could get in were security, certain maintenance workers and the heads of the facility. He ruled out stealing a key from any of the above. It would take a stranger approach to break into Zee's lab.
At the door of the lab, he pulled out a small cylinder about the size of a cigar. It was a miniaturized version of his cosmic rod prototype, stripped of many of the functions that made the main model so complex. The only capacity that remained was fine tuned magnetic manipulation. The components of the lock were non-ferrous, but that meant that the cylinder could repel them in just the right combination. Its creation required Ted to strip a few components from the receiver, but it wouldn't throw off their schedule. Hopefully. He angled the cylinder at the lock and twisted it to the on position. The feedback wasn't as nuanced as in the prototype. The few hours of practice over the past two days would have to be enough. Footsteps reverberated down the corridor. Security, workers, anyone. It didn't matter. He would be compromised if they saw him trying to break into another lab. Ted accelerated his work. The clicks and pops within the lock guided his aim. The footsteps were close, just around a corner. There was the clack of the lock releasing and Ted tried the door handle. It opened.
Every scientist's lab was an extension of them and their team. Will's had an air of controlled chaos, diagrams and components taking up every available surface. Rebecca's was neat and orderly. Dr. Zee's was cramped, oppressively so, with nearly all the room taken up by massive electrical coils. Two variations of the disc Ted had seen when he took the first tour of Vanguard back in October were present. One was small, situated on a pedestal. The other was larger in circumference, sitting on the floor. Bundles of cables ran from both discs to the coils and other machinery, including a dense bank of switches, lights and displays. There were an inordinate amount of clocks and stopwatches set up around the room.
Ted hunted around until he found Dr. Zee's desk. It was crammed in the back of the lab, behind the machinery. Out of sight for anyone that came peeking in here. The drawers were all locked, but Ted's cylinder made short work of them. The first few contained bundles of notes and diagrams, some typed, some written in a scratchy print that was hard to read. Most of it was calculations, factoring in the proper amount of energy. It reminded Ted of his team's struggles.
The rest of the material was difficult to intuit. There was a code of sorts, a shorthand that noted dates, times, tests and results. Other than a handful of what he assumed were positive marks near the start of Zee's tenure at the facility, which began nearly half a year before Ted's time, the majority of the tests amounted to failure. The last one, marked July 25 was labelled failure. A new test, pencilled in for August 24, already sat on the page.
The final drawer held letters, both Zee's and ones sent to him from a variety of sources. A few looked like they were still being drafted. The contents were mundane, mostly the kind of vague updates of the sort that Ted had to make when asked about his work by Doris or his family. Unremarkable. The only thing that caught Ted's attention was a fine layer of dust or powder over a few of them.
The muffled sound of the signal that lunch was over filtered into the lab. He didn't have much time. Ted put back all the papers as he found them and shut the drawers. He was squeezing past the coils when his foot caught on one of the cables and tripped. His knee hit the rim of the metal disc and shot a bolt of pain through his body. Before Ted got up, something caught his eye. Underneath one of the coils, wedged in a bundle of cables was a hat.
A flat cap with a sun stitched into the side.
August 12, 1940
Ted had been to Gotham City twice before. Once as a child. Once as an adult. Both times had filled him with a mixture of fear and curiosity at the dark expanse of the place. His latest excursion confirmed the memories the moment he stepped off the train into the gothic streets, shadowed by the stark, jagged towers and the gargoyles that seemed to sit on every building corner. It was as though the city were plucked straight from the collective nightmare of the populace. His destination was Gotham University.
Ted's infiltration of Dr. Zee's lab had gone unnoticed, though he continued to pay close attention to the man for any glimpse of suspicion. He worried that the cylinder had damaged the mechanisms in the door as the handle had felt stiffer upon his exit. The discovery of Greg's cap brought with it endless questions and limited avenues to explore them. There was no way to tell security about it without revealing he had snuck into another's lab uninvited and the hat alone was not enough to convince anyone. Ted wasn't even sure that he was correct in his assumptions. Only the deep feeling of unease at the matter kept him to his course.
His inquiries into Zee and his field of studies were frustrated for a time. Norman Glass was unhelpful, mistaking Ted's questions for a sign of professional jealousy. The other scientists only knew about Zee in generalities, also wary of giving away too much and being branded a weak point in organizational security. Agent Faraday had already made his opinion clear. Not that the man was around all that much these days. Ted wasn't comfortable enough with the other G-Men to solicit their insights.
His break came from Thomas Morrow. The man sought him out one day, as they left the facility. Thomas didn't personally know Zee, but he had colleagues who attended a lecture at Gotham University some years ago. The scientist had spent a few years on his research there and any information about him could reside in the school's archives. There was only one matter to take care of first.
Without surprise, Ted discovered that Gotham wasn't more hospitable when you were looking down on it. The altitude only confirmed the scale of the labyrinth.
"A corner office? You've moved up in the world," said Ted.
"I can't lie. It's been a fruitful year," said Alan Scott. They were in his office at the GBC building.
"Of course, you have to spend a lot more time in Gotham."
"I go back and forth between here and the Manhattan branch. Gotham has it's charms," said Alan.
"I'll take your word for it," said Ted.
Alan caught Ted up on the gist of his new career with the GBC. Ted gave him the broad strokes of his work with Vanguard.
"Busy with the election?" said Ted.
Alan groaned.
"Somedays it seems like that's all that's happening. Never mind the war or any other story."
"I caught a bit of the coverage of the rallies in New York. We've got a television at the living quarters," said Ted.
"I may regret this question, but you have a favorite of the two?" said Alan.
"Roosevelt by a mile. You?"
"The same. Not that we're allowed to show that. Leonard wants equal coverage. A close race."
"Spectacle sells unfortunately. A few of the folks at the lab are worried they'll be out of a job if Thompson wins," said Ted.
"Not you?" said Alan.
"The man wants America to be the champion. There's no doing that if we don't have the science to back it up," said Ted.
"I think his running mate Lindbergh would settle for second place if it was the Germans," said Alan.
"I used to like that guy. Hell of an aviator," said Ted.
Alan poured Ted a drink.
"Enough of that. How's Doris?" said Alan.
"She's swell. That gal's the most patient woman I know. If I was her, I'd be sick of my nonsense," said Ted.
"Maybe she knows she's got a good one," said Alan.
"Doubtful. If she were single she'd be lousy with suitors," said Ted. "Have to fight them off with a stick."
Alan laughed, though he seemed distracted.
"How about you Alan? Any friends of the feminine persuasion?" said Ted.
Alan shook his head.
"You ever give a thought to that secretary of yours?"
"Molly?"
"I'm no expert on the matter, but even I can see she's giving you doe eyes," said Ted.
"I hadn't thought about it. Seems a tad inappropriate, given I'm her boss," said Alan.
"There's the altar boy. I'm not saying you have to propose. Take her on a date. If things go well and you're uncomfortable with it, have her switch positions. Heck, you might need to do that anyway if things go poorly," said Ted.
They laughed at that. The conversation meandered for a time, before it reached a natural silence.
"How are you Alan?"
"Hmm?"
"It's been a while, but I still think about your visit to the observatory. The things that troubled you then. Your friend," said Ted.
Alan took a long pause, his eyes distant.
"I'd be lying if I said everything was better. All water under the bridge. There are nights where it happens all over again. It's not as often though. The change of pace has been good for me. I've been able to shake things up."
"That's keen," said Ted.
"I liked my work with Martin and the firm. But, it was tainted. This is new. And I've made some new friends. Gotten an opportunity to do work I believe in," said Alan.
Ted thought of his own work. It was like what Alan described at first. There were still days when that spark remained. Only they were less frequent.
"Wonderful Alan. Really, I'm happy it's been working out," said Ted.
"What's wrong?" said Alan.
"Gave it away that easily?"
Alan waited.
"I can't divulge much. Suffice to say I'm in a difficult position. There's something I feel need's to be done, but it risks everything I've built up for myself. I don't know if I have it in me to see it through," said Ted.
"Why not?" said Alan.
"My life...it's been easy. Easy living. I've done things that are tough. Getting the science down wasn't a breeze, but I've had the space to do so. This is the first time I'm in a bind, without an exit in sight," said Ted.
Ted finished his drink and stared out the window. Night in Gotham was eerie. Police blimps glided over the city, their search lights trawling through the murk. The clouds were marked by a yellow and black symbol. The infamous Bat Signal.
"I don't know how much I can help Ted. All I know is that the times I've been in a position like yours, the only thing that prevented me from folding, from giving in, was the thought of who I would be failing if I quit. When it was more than myself on the line I could do it," said Alan.
Ted thought of Greg. The others. If there was a chance of helping them maybe that was enough.
"Thanks for the pep talk Alan. I owe you a drink," said Ted.
"Just means another trip to Opal's in my future," said Alan.
August 13, 1940
The section of the archives that Ted was directed to had not been touched in a long time. A defunct branch of the university's scientific division and the documents that an entire generation of faculty and students had left behind. It was hours of digging until he uncovered anything remotely related to Dr. Zee. Even then it was a paltry selection. A series of lecture transcripts, incomplete notes on research and a handful of photos of the doctor in his lab.
The notes were at least more coherent than what he had previously found. The nuances were lost, but Ted was able to discern the big picture. Zee's research was in chronology. Specifically about the physical rules that governed time. Transcripts of lectures concerned a man who was asking questions about whether or not it was possible to accelerate or reverse the flow of time. Whether travel along these currents was possible. The photos were poorly taken. Many of them were blurred or off center, with his bespectacled assistant taking up too much of the frame. There was a distant relative of the disc in Zee's current lab in one of them, a skeletal frame of the device.
This material gave Ted context, but it didn't answer any of the bigger questions. He took pictures of the photos and a handful of the documents. It was on his way out that Ted had another impulse. He found a section of the archives that contained information on the faculty at the university at the time that Zee worked there. He might be able to get in contact with them to ask about the man. His eyes skimmed through the documents until something stopped them. On a photo of the university faculty, taken in 1937. It was a large assemblage of people, from all the various departments. They stared into the camera with a somber professionalism. A note on the bottom of the photo attributed names to the people in the photograph. Ted found Zee's and traced it back to the row.
Ted froze. He ran back to the section with Zee's materials and snatched one of those photos for comparison. Holding the two next to one another made it unmistakable. Ted had it wrong. The assistant wasn't taking up the frame. The man in the glasses was Dr. Zee. Ted had only assumed that the other man was the doctor.
Because the other man was the one that worked for Vanguard.
August 23, 1940
The key slotted nicely into the panel on the industrial elevator.. It was a copy, from a mold Ted took a week back when he paid a 'visit' to the department for the weekly game. Security patrols were a concern, but they didn't expect a scientist to check out for the evening and head alongside the facility exterior to the service entrance. The gamble was in whether or not anyone was present when the elevator descended, which was why he wore a jumpsuit that fit in with their attire. A counterfeit ID hung from his neck, a crude imitation but one that he hoped would survive superficial scrutiny. A flat cap sat on his head. Ted was painfully aware of the irony that the actions he carried out for the past few weeks, which culminated in tonight's task would be classified as espionage by anyone at Vanguard. He rationalized it as having run out of options.
There was no way to definitively prove that Dr. Zee was not who he claimed to be without knowing what Vanguard had on their books. Ted settled for bolstering his case beyond the photos from the Gotham University archives. He had repurposed parts from the lab to build a miniature camera, another offense. With it, he documented the maintenance and personnel log book. Over the past year at least five workers had performed their final job in Zee's lab prior to quitting. There was also the matter of six research assistants quitting. Ted had only been able to track down one of them outside the lab.
It could all amount to nothing. The knot of that fear never left him. Yet, there was too much that didn't add up. Too many lingering doubts. If nothing else he owed it to Greg.
Getting into the lab was easy with the cylinder. The darkness gave it a foreboding with only infrequent flickers of electricity off the coils casting any light. The larger disc was gone. Ted pulled out the camera. He needed to find a place to hide it where it had a good view of the lab. He was going to rig a small battery to it to take a photo at a set interval so he could record Zee's test. Ted was midway through the setup when the handle of the door turned. He snatched the camera and huddled behind one of the coils, careful to not press his skin to it.
Dr. Zee entered the lab. The doctor flipped on the lights and walked over to his desk. Ted could watch him through gaps in the coils, his part of the room still obscured in shadow by the machines. Dr. Zee retrieved an envelope from his desk. He carried it over the smaller disc on the pedestal, dumping the contents on it. All Ted could see was a pile of ash. The material that coated one of the letters he examined. Zee went to one of the consoles and operated its multitude of switches and knobs. A current built in the room with such violence that Ted flattened his body against the wall, granting as much distance as possible between him and the coil. The air around the disc bent and warped, a full spectrum of color swimming through the space over the next thirty seconds. They coalesced into a spherical pattern, a marble of air and energy. There was a noise akin to a whip crack and the sphere dissipated. Where there was once a pile of ash now sat a pice of paper. Ted could see writing on it when Zee picked it up, bringing it back to his desk to read. Finished with his reading, Zee spent a few minutes composing a note with pen and ink. When he finished, he lit a match and burned the paper. The ashes were swept into a new envelope that Zee placed in his desk. It was only at the end of this sequence that Ted realized he had failed to take a single photo.
Dr. Zee appeared to consider burning the note from the pedestal, then decided against it at least for the time being, putting it in one of the top drawers. The doctor went to the back wall of the lab, where he opened a panel and threw a lever. A previously unseen door slid open into a darkened chamber. The red haired doctor entered.
Ted managed to regain his wits. He took a photo of the newly opened door, then once he was confident Zee wouldn't reappear anytime soon, he used his cylinder to grab the letter the pedestal had reconstituted. He couldn't read it. It was in German. There was a similar hum coming from the hidden room.
The space behind the wall was much larger than Ted would've guessed. He stood on an elevated platform and took it all in. It was at least three times as large as the lab, replete with its own battery of coils. Thick, industrial cables shot off of them into outlets in the wall. A bank of controls and displays were on another platform below. It took Ted a moment to locate Dr. Zee. He was dragging a body across the floor of the room. Upon reaching a disc, the same disc missing from the other lab, Ted recognized the figure being dragged. It was Norman Glass. Unconscious or dead, it was impossible to tell from the distance. All he could see was that Norman was affixed to a chair in the center of the disc. Finished with his task, Zee returned to the control panels. Ted made sure to hide behind the railing.
It wasn't clear what was about to happen, but Ted understood that if Norman was still alive it wouldn't end well for him. He crept back into the lab. He pulled the alarm switch that each room had, but it had been tampered with. At this rate, it would take too long to find security. Ted went to the control panel and began to flip switches and hit buttons. He did this till the coils in the lab began to charge with a strained electrical hum. The pedestal sparked.
He took the wide route, back along the edge of the coils, waiting till Dr. Zee ran through the door. Whatever Ted had managed, its consequences were too dire for the man to waste time closing the passage. Ted slipped back through into the second room. He hustled down the stairs, till he got to the ground floor. A closer inspection confirmed that Norman was breathing, if faintly. Drugged perhaps. Ted managed to undo the bindings on him when a gunshot made him jump.
"The next one will not be so polite," said Dr. Zee. The man was on the highest platform, a pistol anchored on the railing in Ted's direction.
"Put your hands up and step away from the subject," said Zee.
"I've already told others about you. They're coming," said Ted, his hands raised.
"Hm. No I think not. If that were the case, they would have arrested me already," said Zee. He strolled down the stairs to the second platform, the pistol fixed on Ted.
"You can't hide this for long," said Ted.
"What exactly am I hiding?" said Zee.
"This room. The letters to the Germans. Whatever you've done with all these assistants and workers. Replacing Dr. Zee," said Ted.
"Oh you have done good work. I was curious if I would ever find out who had been snooping through my lab. Don't look so disappointed that I knew. The door handle never worked quite the same after your intrusion."
The doctor was nearly at the ground floor now. Ted kicked himself for not running earlier. He had a chance when he was far away. Up close the shot would be easy to make.
"You act as if our employers won't be happy to overlook my… eccentricities once I provide them with the fruits of my research. Time travel. And if they have an issue, there are others who would better appreciate my expertise."
"That was Dr. Zee's problem, wasn't it?" said Ted. "He didn't appreciate you."
"Prodding at that won't save you," said the man.
"He didn't respect you. Didn't value you. That ate at you. Ate you right up inside," said Ted.
"All just noise," said the man, but Ted noted the change in his voice.
"He thought you couldn't cut it. That you were worthless to the research. I'm starting to think he was right," said Ted. He eyed the distance to the nearest coil. It was the only cover on the ground floor.
"That's enough."
"You feign elegance, but this whole scheme reeks of mediocrity. I've seen your logs. You've been testing this machine for over a year and all you've managed to do is vanish a pear. Make a paper reform? It's pathetic. The real Dr. Zee would've had it done by…"
"Enough!" shouted the man. His aim on Ted slipped just enough in his expression of rage.
Ted bolted for the coil. The first shot creased his shoulder, enough to tear the jumpsuit. The second one missed completely. The third one hit the industrial cable that fed into the huge coil.
A spasm of energy cascaded from the pieced cable, with much of it siphoning into the coil, till it glowed a blinding blue and purple. The surge looped through all the coils on that side of the room. There was a burst of force that sent Ted flat on his back as the first coil groaned and toppled. Where it hit the ground, the floor panels buckled and gave in. The one Ted was on tilted nearly vertical as he slid down it. Before he could respond he was falling through open air. A catwalk approached.
Ted didn't so much as land on it, as he collided with the railing and flailed his arms till they wrapped around it. He gasped for air, the impact knocking it from his lungs. Sheets of metal rained into this lower room, as more of the coils punched through the ceiling. One of the coils sheared in half and took the catwalk with it on the way down. Ted fell further, still clinging to his platform as he did. The sudden stop of the floor flung him from it as he skidded to a halt. He stayed on his knees, too weak to fully stand.
The new room was bathed in a green glow, only punctured by the new holes in the roof. Mist sat on the floor. There were tanks of soupy orange fluid, too thick to properly see through. A few were leaking or shattered, the liquid gushing onto the floor. Ted saw a hand press to the glass of one of the tanks, before vanishing in the murk.
There was a click beside him. His foe had fallen in as well, though he still held his pistol. Bits of blood streaked the man's cheeks, matching the color of his hair. His eyes had a crazed quality to themselves
"You see? How little they share with you. With all of us," said the man. "You call me a monster but what is this?"
Ted felt in his pocket. It hadn't fallen out.
"Die knowing you changed nothing."
Ted twisted the cylinder and aimed it at the gun. The effect wasn't strong, but it worked just enough to launch the firearm out of the man's grip, as it vanished into the tangle of steel, glass and fluids. The man stared at his newly disarmed hand in disbelief.
Ted was upon him in moments. He used the man's distraction to wail on him, putting his opponent on the ground. Ted straddled the man and laid punch after punch, ignoring the throbbing in his fists.
"You've won," said another voice.
"Easy there," someone else.
Ted looked up from the man's bloodied face to see a cadre of people in black suits around him. Agent Faraday stepped to the front of the group.
"Sorry Ted," Faraday said.
Something sharp pricked Ted's back. It wasn't so bad he thought as he drifted off into the stars.
"You're fired," said Agent Faraday.
"Excuse me?" said Ted.
It was the closest thing to an interrogation room Ted had ever been in. He had awoken on a metal bench inside the boxy room an hour ago with bandages on his hands and the second worst hangover he'd ever felt. Faraday arrived and sat him down at the table in an unpleasant chair.
"You're being fired."
"What about that man? Norman? All the others," said Ted.
"Norman is safe. Our mutual friend is in custody. As for everyone that he may have hurt, we're looking into it," said Faraday.
"And the Germans…"
"That's where your interest in the matter needs to end," said Faraday.
"I wanted to come to you with all of this," said Ted.
"But you didn't."
"Would you have believed me?"
"You never gave me the chance."
The two men stared at one another. Faraday lit a cigarette, offering Ted one of his own. He declined.
"A few of the folks upstairs wanted to press charges on you. Espionage, sabotage, the whole pamphlet. I talked them down. Much as they don't want to admit it, you did them a massive favor. Who knows if we would've caught on to Zee's imposter in time. Plus, you highlighted a number of holes in operational security. Wins all around."
"That's it? I'm sent packing. All this work for nothing."
"Not nothing. You saved a man's life Ted. Probably many more. Take pride in that. Between you and me, I think you're a goddamn hero. But I don't steer the ship. I just keep it safe."
Do I get to say goodbye to the others?" said Ted. Will, Rebecca, Lula, Alton, Leslie. Even Thomas Morrow. Janet Klyburn. Dr. Caulder.
"No. You leave in twenty minutes. Straight trip back to Opal courtesy of Vanguard. You so much as sneeze near a Vanguard facility or personnel for the rest of your life and they'll have you sharing a cell with that freak. You dig?" said Faraday.
Ted stewed for another minute of silence while Faraday smoked. There was nothing to be done but fume about it.
"I dig."
"Think Knight will be a problem?" said Major Donenfeld.
"No sir," said Faraday.
"He's seen a lot. The folks downstairs aren't too keen on having him running around out there."
"That's my burden to bear. I fully believe that Ted Knight is a patriot. He won't squeal. Not even if he's mad."
"His work?"
"The receiver is a dead end. Knight was the only one that could've figured it out. His teammates are worth transferring to other projects. Lula Edwards would be a good fit with Dr. Irons. Howell can go to Morrow."
"Good. Anything else?"
"The receiver is kaput, but the calculations Knight did for it are valuable. I had Dr. Liebowitz look it over and he agrees."
"What do you propose Agent Faraday?"
"Copy them for Vanguard's records, then send it over to the NRDC. Director Bush can see if they'd be useful to the Advisory Committee."
"Make it happen."
"Yes sir."
On a back road in Kentucky, around a bend that had claimed two locals in car accidents, on the way to a federal penitentiary, lay the twisted remains of a paddy wagon, it's driver and two guards dead, one by the crash, two by gunshot wounds. The wagon would be found within two hours of its fate by a passing motorist on their way to church. Much attention would be given to the state of its operators, rightly go given the compassionate nature of the individual that discovered it. It took an hour more for concern to be directed at the one element missing from the grim tableaux.
The prisoner.
September 19, 1940
The stars held the answers. They always had. They always would. Ted had thought for a time that he could pry the answers from them. Brute force his way into the mystery. He knew better now. To achieve any understanding, any meaningful understanding, was to allow himself to be subsumed by them. To make peace with his tiny place in the greater whole. To wield, not to master.
Ted held the cosmic rod aloft. It spoke to him, a language of the cosmos. As he soared above his observatory for the first time, he whooped with joy.
Starman was born.