MEGA MAN: GUIDING RAINBOW’S LIGHT

By Eric “Erico” Lawson

Chapter Twelve: Keeping the World Alive

“Since, in the long run, every planetary society will be endangered by impacts from space, every surviving civilization is obliged to become spacefaring — not because of exploratory or romantic zeal, but for the most practical reason imaginable: staying alive.” –Carl Sagan

“The best scientist is open to experience and begins with romance— the idea that anything is possible.” –Ray Bradbury

Dr. Light’s House

1987 Heiwa Drive, 5 miles outside of Tokyo, Japan

April 21st, 2055 C.E.

6:45 A.M.

Dr. Light was dead asleep in his bed, without a single bothersome thought or dream to pull him from that relaxed state of mind. He was tucked safely under his comforter, with the sheets underneath kicked in every direction under him.

The last few years had seen some more of his muscle mass revert to body fat, giving him a more rounded appearance that his favorite T-Shirt and sleeping shorts ensemble did little to hide. He rolled over a bit and yawned ever so slightly, still well in the last parts of his dream.

He didn’t detect the padded thumping footsteps plod into his room, nor the struggling sounds of his visitor climbing up the opened shelves of his clothes dresser to reach his nightstand.

As quiet as could be expected for a Fliptop, Eddie blinked his cartoonish optics at the sight of his primary creator slumbering away. He contemplated the human’s need to sleep for some time before giving into the directive that had brought him there to begin with.

Eddie popped his lid open and activated the small LCD monitor installed in the underside. Like his compartment cooling system, the monitor had been another custom modification done by Dr. Light and Dr. Wily. Eddie thought that the LCD monitor was 3.56 times more useful than his beer-launching apparatus, because it allowed him to communicate with the two humans who had grown tired of using the translator handsets and earpieces.

Good morning, Dr. Light. The screen read. It was a flat expression. I have been sent here to wake you up.

Dr. Light didn’t move. Eddie dialed up the brightness of the LCD Monitor, but all that made Dr. Light do was roll over and turn his face away from the screen.

Eddie deduced that in this situation, there was a 67.24 percent chance that Dr. Wily would let out an exasperated sigh.

Very well. I am beginning alarm protocol W-14. He snapped his lid shut and activated his speakers, playing back the pre-recorded sound clip that came with the specific program.

Dr. Light’s room was suddenly blasted with 70 decibels of acid rock music, and the scientist let out a stunned yelp. He twisted around in his sheets and blankets for a moment, then reached a meaty fist over to his nightstand and slammed it down on the offending piece of electronics.

The sudden blow momentarily shorted out Eddie’s speakers and forced the canister-sized robot to collapse backwards.

Light pulled his arm back, let out one soft sigh, and slipped back away to sleep in the silence that followed.

Eddie, however, was not one to be ignored, and he certainly did not appreciate being pounded in the same manner as a snooze button on a radio alarm clock. He picked himself back up, shook his torso left and right for a moment to test his servos for damage, then waddled over and made the short hop onto Light’s bed.

He wandered around Light’s body and past the man’s feet, then settled in place next to Light’s head. The last one hadn’t worked, so he tried a different pre-recorded clip.

A foghorn blasted straight into Thomas X. Light’s face, and this time, he reacted violently enough to crash his head into the headboard of his bedframe.

Groaning through the pain, Light cracked one eye open and stared at the robot standing on his bed. “Eddie? What the Hell was that for?”

Eddie squabbled something in gibberish for a moment, then popped his hatch and flashed a translation across his viewscreen. Dr. Wily ordered me to wake you up with one of his messages. The first did not rouse you. The second one has.

“He programmed you with multiple alarms?”

The third one apparently uses a sound clip from a movie called “When Harry Met Sally.” I am not clear on the specifics, but…

“Enough, enough.” Light rolled his eyes. He had a feeling he knew what that message sounded like. “Fine, I’m up. Now get off my bed, Eddie.”

Based on your past sleeping patterns, if I leave now there is a 37.86 percent chance that you will fall asleep again. Perhaps I should play the next message?

Light flung the covers back and got out of bed. “Never mind…Christ.”

It took Eddie a few moments to disentangle himself from the comforter. Dr. Wily is downstairs preparing breakfast.

Light looked away from the viewscreen and headed for his bathroom. “He’s not making breakfast burritos again, is he?”

Eddie beeped an unsure response and let it sit at that.

Ritual had unintentionally become a large part in the lives of Thomas Light and Albert Wily. There were rituals for how they ended the day, how long they worked most of the time, even when they stopped for a bite to eat. Barring changes to the schedule like a visit from Oliver Xanthos, a phone call from the forever harried and constantly more haggard Darwin Vinkus, or emergency updates from their friend and manager of their information systems, Titus Grant, all these things happened in much the same fashion and usually around the same times.

This particular morning was no different. Wily was already downstairs and fully dressed for the day ahead; blue jeans and a white button-down shirt with a red tie, standing over the stove with the smell of sizzling animal fat lingering in the air. Light came tromping down, missing one sock and still in his T-shirt and shorts.

Without looking, Wily moved a carafe of coffee to the end of the stove’s countertop. Light meandered to a rack of old-fashioned ceramic mugs, selected one that read “Dirty old bastard” (His favorite), shuffled back to the coffeepot, and poured himself a glass.

Wily remained silent as Light plowed through the first long draw of the piping hot brew and exhaled the steam and fumes afterwards. To accent the sudden jolt of energy and caffeine that slipped into his stomach lining, Light promptly blew out a massive fart.

“Fire in the hole.” He belatedly offered.

Wily rolled his eyes and flipped the sausage patties. “Every damn morning.”

“Just making room, Will.” Thomas Light smiled, using his friend’s rarely spoken middle name. He glanced over Dr. Wily’s shoulder and nodded. “Sausage? No breakfast burritos?”

“Not twice in one week.” Light’s roommate and best friend shrugged. “Sausage biscuits. Grab some plates, these are about done.”

Light walked over a few steps and opened up one of the kitchen cabinets. He took out two small blue plates with a flower print pattern and set them on the counter next to Wily. “You want juice?”

“Coffee’s enough for today.”

“Heaven forbid you bother trying to get all your nutrients.” Light pulled up some napkins. “Oh, I haven’t thanked you properly for telling Eddie to be my alarm clock.”

“Don’t mention it.” Wily chuckled. “You know, for a robot we made to be a walking briefcase, Eddie’s proven to be quite utilitarian.” He reached down and opened up the oven door. A baking sheet with two warm and fluffy biscuits waited inside.

“I’m sure.” Light answered dryly. He watched Wily pull the biscuits out and drop them on the plate. “Need any help?”

“No, I think I’ve got this.” Wily set the towel he’d used to grab the biscuits with back over his shoulder and split the biscuits in half. He turned the stove off and dropped a sausage patty on each plate, then handed one to his partner. “Big day today. You all set?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Light shrugged, taking the plate and walking over to the table. “Thankfully, we like big projects. If we lived by shorter deadlines, Al, this particle synthesis technology would drive us nuts. But you’re sure this will take? We haven’t had a successful synthesis module test yet that matches the power requirements.”

“I’m well aware of the limitations on a Metool, Tom.” Wily reminded his counterpart, sitting down and reaching for a napkin. “You programmed them, but I built the things. This should work, though. Three years, we’ve been working on the drain. Not to mention our Metools just saw the newest ionic cell upgrade.” He took a bite of his sausage biscuit and grinned. “It’ll work.”

“Hm.” Light swallowed down some of his own meal and chuckled. “Are we taking turns with this optimism thing again, or have I finally swayed you fully to the cause of hopeful idealism?”

Wily reached for his cup of coffee and raised it up. “Tom, for as long as we’ve known each other, I would have thought you understood me by now. I’ve always been a bit of a dreamer. I just let you do most of the talking, and spend my time working in the details.”

“Where the devil is.” Light chuckled, clinking their coffee cups together.

“Quite.” Wily agreed, and breakfast went on.

7:35 A.M.

Three years of planning, inventing, re-inventing, incorporating other advancements, and tweaking all came down to this.

One Metool, the very same prototype they’d begun with three short years before was equipped with the newest tools. It stood at the center of their workshop and laboratory at the eastern side of their residence…Which also served as the scientist’s laundry room. They’d pushed the clotheslines away for this experiment, of course. Next to the Metool was a one foot thick slab of Plasteel, a transparent composite material that had seen increasing use in all engineering fields since its development one and a half years before. Light and Wily were sitting on a pair of small green collapsible camping chairs, a laptop across Wily’s legs and Light with a digital assistant in his hand. A video recorder in one corner of the room watched the robot and two scientists with an impartial eye, putting everything to flash drive for posterity.

“Give me a final systems check, Matt.” Thomas Light called out, using the very human sounding name he’d jokingly given the yellow-helmeted robot. “Hydrogen synthesis module.”

The robot chirped once in reply. Wily checked their monitor. “The Metool says the synthesis module is running normally.”

“Hydrogen bottle?”

Wily sighed in exasperation as the Metool chirped again. “The particle storage unit is active. Containment field is nominal. And stay away from the nicknames, would you? We’re recording this for posterity.”

“No can do, Al. I wouldn’t be me then.” Light chortled. “All right! Particle condensing emitter?”

Matt the Metool bobbed its yellow helmet up and down, flashing the green plus sign at them.

“Emitter is a go.” Wily said, more for the camera’s benefit than Light’s.

“Quiet O2 compressor and burner feed?”

“Running. No errors.”

“Electromagnetic field projector?”

“Nominal.”

“Fuser flint?”

“Newly installed yesterday. No defects.”

“All right. Last thing then, Matt. How are you feeling?”

The Metool thought about it for a moment, then let out a cheerful chirp and nodded again.

“I’d say he’s just ducky.” Wily grumbled. “Can we get started?” Light shrugged, and Wily looked down at their robot. “All right. Metool, engage your plasma torch and cut through that plasteel.”

The Metool’s comical circular mouth opened a bit more, and a powerful, near-blinding arc of converted plasma shot out. Condensed particles of synthesized hydrogen were fed out from the Metool’s interior particle storage unit, ignited with a dose of oxygen from the interior compressor line, and kept roiling and in a definite cutting arc by the EM field erected by the projector about the thing’s mouth. The air around the Metool began to lighten, as it absorbed the elements straight out of the air and broke them down into hydrogen particles for storage. With all that set in place, the only thing the Metool had to worry about was running out of power too quickly…

But that was why they’d spent so many months reducing the amperage load on the assembly.

The Metool started working, sending sparks flying in all directions as its plasma torch dug into the plasteel. It could either cut or weld, depending on the power setting, but in cutting mode, it started to make quick work of the block of transparent material.

Wily kept his eyes focused on his laptop, measuring the Metool’s systems at a distance by the robot’s remote monitoring transmitter. Light slipped on a protective welding visor and watched.

“This is incredible.” Light gushed. “He’s nearly a quarter of the way through it already!”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Dr. Wily shrugged to hide his smile. “After all, we’ve essentially taken something that originally required a fusion reactor and hooked it up to a robot with rechargeable battery cells. The energy input to output ratio’s tremendous!”

“How’s the rest of it holding up?” Light went on, unable to look away from the sight of the Metool finally becoming what it was always meant to be; a reliable tools platform that needed only a recharge in hibernation mode every so often.

Wily had never broken his gaze from his laptop screen. “Hydrogen fuel consumption rate is stable. At current power drain, the Metool estimates it can go for another…” Wily beamed. “Oh, fantastic. Nine hours and a few minutes before needing a recharge.”

“Unbelievable!” Light whooped. “Al, you saucy devil you! We’ve done it!”

Wily raised a hand up. “Hang on a second…something’s not right here.”

Light removed the welding visor and leaned over Wily’s shoulder. “What is it, Al?”

Wily tapped one of the graphed readouts. “This…this shouldn’t be rising. The Metool’s particle storage unit is pulling in more fuel than it’s using.”

Dr. Light tugged on his beard with a frown. “That’s not right.” He agreed. “The synthesis module’s supposed to run at a reduced rate during active use.”

“I’m going to issue a shutdown command.” Wily tapped out a code sequence and hit enter…waited…and swore. “It didn’t take!”

“Matt, stop…”

“No, blast it!” Wily shouted, cutting Light off. “If it stops using that plasma cutter, the particle buildup will happen even faster!”

Matt the Metool let out an anxious questioning beep, turning away from the block. Even with his cutter still on, the two scientists were far enough away that there was no risk of accidental injury from the heat.

Light glanced down at the screen, then back over to Matt, then down at the screen again. “This is bad.” He uttered. “It’s a coding issue, but…”

Matt beeped at them again, and the translation came up on Light’s digital assistant.

Cannot disengage synthesis module; error in code compounded by terminal short.

“Oh, Jesus.” Light breathed. “Al, it…”

“It’s going to blow.” Dr. Wily finished, cutting to the point. “It’s going to synthesize more hydrogen than it can store, it’ll lose containment, and then…”

First Law precedence. Evacuating.

Without another word, the Metool spun about and charged towards the outer wall of the laundry room and laboratory. Its cutter made quick work of the old-fashioned siding, slicing open a portal just large enough for the Metool to squeeze through.

Light and Wily both stood up. Light shouted after the robot to stop, but he knew as well as Wily did that the robot wouldn’t.

It knew, just as they did, that its own existence was forfeit through a programming error made worse by a shortout. Because of that, the First Law took over. To protect them, the Metool was attempting to flee as far away as possible.

It made it outside and wobbled off down the hill away from their home for nearly eight seconds before the hydrogen bottle’s electromagnetic field lost containment…

The Metool exploded with the equivalent force of nearly one metric ton of TNT.

Tokyo General Hospital

10:24 A.M.

The on-duty nurse at the front desk had just made it through a very rough night, and still had another thirty minutes before her shift ended. It left her marked with a permanent scowl, and a chip on her shoulder. The others in the hospital knew to avoid her. The unlucky visitors…?

Darwin Vinkus stormed through the front doors, oblivious to her bad mood, and carrying one of his own. He marched to the front desk and tapped once on the counter to get the nurses’ attention. “I’m looking for two gentlemen who would have come in this morning.” He spoke in Japanese.

The nurse looked at him and sighed in exasperation. “Friends or family?” She replied in the same tongue.

“Friend.” Vinkus replied. “Their names are Dr. Light and Dr. Wily.”

The nurse recognized those names. She sat up quickly enough. “The robot makers?”

Vinkus nodded. “That would be them. They were taken to the hospital this morning from their house.”

The nurse typed in their names and glanced up at him again. “I’m sorry, but they’re in the emergency ward. Only family is allowed in to visit them.”

Vinkus narrowed his eyes. “Are they in critical condition?”

“Well…”

“Because if they are, I need to see them. If they’re not, I still need to see them.”

“You do not have the authority to demand that.” The nurse snapped.

“Oh, I think I do.” Vinkus replied frostily. “Take a good look at me.”

The nurse stared at him for a moment. “I don’t recognize you. Should I?”

The fire in Darwin’s eyes died out a bit, and the middle-aged man who wore his stress as a man a decade or more older sighed. “My name is Darwin Vinkus. I’m the Second Rainbow’s United Nations Representative…and their superior.” To get the point across, he pulled his wallet out of his pocket and flashed his I.D.

The nurse paled slightly, but nodded. “Of…Well, of course. If it’s for the…” She shook it off and motioned down the hall. “End of the corridor, turn left. That will take you to the emergency ward. They’re still being examined.”

“Thank you.” Darwin muttered, stepping past her. “If I’m lucky, they didn’t die in the time I wasted talking to you.”

The miffed nurse watched him depart, then snorted. “Have a nice day…idiot.”

Vinkus was already out of earshot, but he could imagine the muttered comments she’d offer in his absence. In his mind, she’d called him worse things. The U.N. Representative gave it only a moment’s thought before he turned back to his worries about what condition he’d find the two geniuses…and friends, he’d finally admitted three years before…in.

A painful held breath was loosed out of his lungs when he saw the two sitting up on the ends of a pair of medical cots, awake and talking. They each had their share of cuts and burns, and there were some places on their clothes where the fabric had been burned away, but they were alive.

“For God’s sakes.” Vinkus choked out in English, storming over to them. “I got a call forty minutes ago telling me that there was an explosion in your house!”

“Right outside of it, actually.” Wily pointed out, wincing as the doctor beside him set another tension bandage into place. “Verdammt! A little more gently, if you please! My skull feels like somebody took a sledgehammer to it!”

Vinkus stared at them. “What happened?”

“Our latest experiment turned sour.” Light admitted sheepishly. “We’ve been working with a lot of next-generation technology to try and make the Metools as energy efficient and self-reliant as possible. We’d finally cracked the synthesis technology that Oliver’s old jet used…and miniaturized the components to fit inside a Met’s hardhat undercarriage.”

“And it was working.” Wily jumped in, continuing the explanation. “Problem was, it worked too well. The damn thing was synthesizing more hydrogen out of thin air than it was using. The storage unit destabilized, and our test Metool became a literal walking bomb.”

“Marvelous.” Vinkus quipped dryly. “Is that what you’re planning on telling the press? That you built a better bomb?”

“Now, hold on a second here!” Light backpedaled. He tried to stand up, failed, and leaned up against the medical bed. “Oof. Look, we didn’t expect that to happen. It shouldn’t have happened. Safety’s been our number one concern the entire way through this process. I won’t even tell you how long we spent making sure that the synthesis module wouldn’t leech material from organic matter!”

Vinkus felt something clunk in his addled brain. “What?”

“It’s nothing you have to worry about now, old man.” Dr. Wily told their friend, using the nickname he knew Vinkus despised. “But for a while there, there was the very real possibility that in the absence of richer materials, the synthesis module would have drawn particulate matter from the most condensed source…which was us, for a while.”

“A couple calcium supplements fixed up our bone loss, thankfully.” Light smiled. “But we got it resolved. And we’ll resolve this. The doctors here say we’ve got some minor burns, cuts, and bruises, but outside of some minor hearing damage, nothing too severe. We’ll get the newest Metool modifications up and running and available within the week.”

“It may take you gentlemen longer than a week.” A crisply dressed man walked into the room, briefcase in one hand and a manila folder in another. His short-cropped hair was spiked back, and his gaze was unapologetic. “I apologize for the intrusion. My name is Hideo Okawaru, attorney at law.”

Wily, Light, and Vinkus all stared at him for a long moment. Vinkus frowned first. “I was having a private conversation with my two friends and work associates. Why are you here?”

“To deliver an injunction.” The lawyer explained, handing over the envelope to Dr. Wily. “Over the last several months, many complaints have been issued by the other residents of your neighborhood. Noise pollution. Working into odd hours of the night when they try to sleep. Noncompliance with the block charter.”

“Noncompliance?” Vinkus demanded.

Hideo nodded. “Specifically, the clauses dealing with what establishments are to be allowed on premises. Doctors Light and Wily, you have been working out of your home in violation of the block charter, and against your neighbor’s wishes. It has made life difficult at best…and after this morning’s pyrotechnic display, dangerous as well. Many of your neighbors were just preparing for the day when that explosion occurred. While your own domicile suffered the worst of it, several windows were blown in along the nearby houses. Most did not appreciate being showered with glass while they were eating breakfast.”

Wily tore the envelope open and stared at the legalese within. He scowled and handed it over to Tom. “All right, fine. We’re sorry we’re noisy neighbors. And we’re especially sorry that that explosion happened. It wasn’t our intention, and it won’t happen again.”

The lawyer shook his head. “I’m sorry, Dr. Wily, but that isn’t good enough. This injunction hereby orders you, under the strict order of the law, to cease and desist in all scientific endeavors and projects on the premises of 1987 Heiwa Drive and its land parcel.”

“This is ridiculous.” Wily snapped. “What we do helps to keep this world alive! Our neighbors should be grateful!”

The lawyer shrugged. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of old-fashioned spectacles. “I believe there is an acronym from your country that the neighbors would use if they could…NIMBY.” He bowed to them politely, then turned around and walked off.

Vinkus frowned. “I don’t know that one.”

“I do.” Light mumbled. “Not In My Backyard.” He slouched forward a bit and rested his arms on his knees. “I don’t believe this. Can they do this?”

“Let me see that injunction.” Vinkus growled, snatching it from Wily’s grip. He scanned it over for a good thirty seconds before he shut his eyes. “Yes, they can do it. It’s airtight, notarized by a judge and everything. Your neighbors must have been preparing this for a long time. Your little accident this morning sealed the deal.”

“Then we’ll fight it. We’ll appeal.” Wily argued. “Damnit, that’s our home! We’re citizens here now!”

“You’re still gai-jin, though.” Vinkus pointed out. “Just like I am. Funny how that trumps everything here. Good luck finding a judge who’ll let you keep living and working in your house after today. You won’t. Trust me on this, I know politics. I hate it, but I know it.”

“So what do we do?” Light asked lethargically. “What’s our next move?”

Vinkus gave the injunction to Light and put his hands in his pockets. “For now? Move. Find someplace where you can run these crazy experiments that might blow up. Someplace where there aren’t any stupid neighbors. I’ll help you out with it.”

“It seems like a wimp’s way out.” Wily grunted. “We were here before them, after all. Why don’t we fight?”

“You’re alive, aren’t you?” Vinkus retorted. “Whatever else happens, you’re still alive. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d…” His voice cut out, and Vinkus bowed his head.

Wily patted the veteran politician on his back. “Relax. We’ve lived this long without kicking the bucket. If a war and underhanded governmental scheming couldn’t kill us, I doubt an accidental explosion could. You worry too much, and you’re getting too old too fast.”

“So they tell me.” Vinkus let off a short laugh. “Even though my hair’s going gray and the stress is making more wrinkles than crumpled fabric, don’t you two forget I’m still younger than you.”

“Not by too much.” Light reminded him. He let out a sigh. “Do we belong anywhere, though? Where’s home for us?”

Wily shrugged. “We never had one, Tom.”

Mauna Kea Observatories

Hawaii

April 22nd, 2055 C.E.

8:30 A.M.

The ID scanners picked up the return chirp from the digital transceiver in the employee’s identity badge as he strolled into the main building. The security guard looked up, smiled, and waved to the person carrying it.

“Aah, Dr. Murges. How are things?”

Dr. Felman Murges was an unassuming older fellow who hailed from Sweden. While some lived in fear of their follicles turning gray or white, Murges made his silvery gray hair and drawn face look positively regal. The tropical heat modified his wardrobe from a shirt, tie, and slacks to a more casual, weather-friendly set of khaki shorts and a cotton Hawaiian shirt. His old leather briefcase remained unchanged, and filled with documents related to his duties as astronomer and physicist for the Second Rainbow.

“Just fine, Kelly. Just fine.” Dr. Murges mirrored the guard’s friendly expression. “How’s the girlfriend?”

Kelly, who was barely nineteen, blushed a bit and ducked under his hat. “I just met her, sir…I wouldn’t say she’s my girlfriend.”

“But you like her, right?”

“Well…”

“Take my advice, son.” Dr. Murges patted the fellow on the shoulder. “Be sure to tell her that. Girls like hearing that sort of thing.”

“I’ll think about it, sir.”

“Good man!” Murges laughed. He turned away from the counter and headed for his office. “Enjoy life! We have it, after all!” Kelly the security guard nodded and waved after him, though Dr. Murges was long gone and out of sight.

Other members of the Second Rainbow battled more urgent terrestrial concerns. Dr. Murges, one of the brightest in a field of study that saw very little attention and funds given to it, enjoyed his simple and wholesome life.

Let the so-called superstars of the Second Rainbow…Hyrmue, Light, Wily, Froid, Cossack, Flynn…battle for dominance in the historical annals. Without the acclaim, there was only the thrill of research and investigation. The cosmos positively glittered with uncharted territory, and even within the Solar System, mysteries abounded.

It was the thrill of that pure, profitless research that allowed the Swede to wake up every morning and thank God he had survived mankind’s stupidity.

Mauna Kea Observatories had not been spared from the ravages of war. Hawaii had remained a United States naval port, and though nuclear fire had not rained down on it, plenty of conventional weapons had. It was the desirability of Hawaii that had kept the Pacific nations from wiping it off of the map, and because of that, Hawaii had been remanded to U.N. control. It was not due to return to U.S. hands until 2089, when, hopefully, control of the islands would not be an issue.

The observatory had been a shining example of international scientific cooperation before the bombs fell, and it had been easy for the Second Rainbow to rebuild the observatory after. The design of it had changed, though.

Modern Mauna Kea Observatory was an amalgamation of the old-fashioned optical telescopes, an entire bed of high speed computers, and uplinks to orbiting satellites that watched the skies with sensor packages that would make the Enterprise proud. Had it not been a Sunday, the observatory would have had a few more people running about and manning the stations and uplinks. Today, only Dr. Murges walked about inside.

His computer monitor came up with a wave of his hand over the keyboard’s electronic sensor. “Good morning, Dr. Murges.” The machine intoned through the display’s miniature speakers. The astronomer resisted the urge to reply to it, reminding himself that it was only a programmed message.

He set his briefcase on the desk and sat down. “All right, let’s get this done with.” He told himself. There was a new restaurant he wanted to try out, and as luck would have it, the head waitress was a fetching older woman who had promised him a free meal and the pleasure of her company. If things went well, he mused with a smile…

The vast array of sensors and satellites available to Mauna Kea’s eyes covered the entire spectrum. Infrared, ultraviolet, and even gamma and x-ray emissions could be tracked. Some of the more eccentric (But hopeful, Felman reminded himself) members of the cadre that worked with and under him even kept a set of radio telescopes running full time under SETI protocols, constantly listening for some burp in the carrier waves with an artificial cue. The system allowed them to keep an eye on the observable Milky Way Galaxy, and even nearby galaxies besides. Soon enough, they would be able to stare back to the earliest eons of the universe.

For all of that, though, it was visual telescopes, highly advanced and digitized as they had become, that allowed them to keep track of the things that moved within the solar system itself.

The more things change, Dr. Murges chuckled. Clyde Tombaugh had discovered Pluto using a blink comparator…a machine that allowed a person to flip between two separate images. The process, even today, was much the same. The computers just made the process easier.

Pure research at its finest, he told himself. Of course, that wasn’t quite how they’d justified the program to the U.N. budget committee…As Dr. Murges recalled, it was something along the line of doom and gloom from inbound heavenly bodies. Earth had been struck before by such things, of course, but outside of the comet that leveled Tunguska 150 years ago, nothing had harmed the world they lived on. Close calls, as interesting as they were, did not a tragedy make.

He logged into the tracking program and checked its results from yesterday and the morning, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. There were a few highlighted entries, of course. They’d been expecting those, and had been watching them. They wouldn’t be a concern for another 300 years, at the earliest.

There was one new blinking entry. Flagged red.

Dr. Murges raised his glasses for a moment, then dropped them back on his nose. He leaned in closer and stared hard at the entry. Blinking meant new.

Red meant…

Previously unidentified Trans-Neptunian object. Size confidence high.

“Impossible.” Murges muttered. He brought up the new entry, saved it to the observatory servers, and opened up the MPCORB database, the minor planet catalogue. Rogue objects didn’t just appear. He cross-referenced the new mark with data tediously collected by astronomers for nearly 75 years…

There was no match.

“This is new.” Murges exhaled. He added a new file to the MPCORB for the sighting, then opened up another program…The heart and soul of the observatory’s technological prowess.

The new window’s title proclaimed itself Pathfinder, partially in honor of the old Mars Rover, but also because the name was self-explanatory: It tracked the possible courses newfound objects within the solar system might take. There had been other programs of its like before, but Pathfinder was Dr. Murges’ pride and joy, and the most advanced one yet. Still, even as he transferred in the new data, he told himself that Pathfinder had limits. Objects needed to move a substantial distance to make a differential the program could track, and…

Data compilement complete. Object course established.

Murges’ eyes widened, and he lifted his glasses up to rub at his eyes. “Impossible.” He said again, too flummoxed to notice he was repeating himself. For Pathfinder to already have a course, the object would have had to have moved at an incredible speed. He pressed the return key to let the program know he’d acknowledged it, and then watched and waited.

His mouth went dry. Pathfinder laid out the course over a digital map of the outer solar system. The new object cut through the Kuiper Belt at a slightly acute angle, just off of the axis. It tracked a path past Neptune, where the gas giant’s gravitational pull swung it about in closer.

Then it passed by Jupiter, giving it just enough of a nudge to bring it in…

To the inner solar system.

“Looks like we have a new comet.” Murges breathed out. It was probably from the Oort Cloud, finally tracking in after eons of lifelessness. He brought his mouse cursor about and zoomed in on the image, sweeping away from the view of the impressively large solar system and sweeping in to what was, astronomically, a very small region of space. Jupiter and the object’s yellow course line sat at the very edge.

The path of it crossed just above the axis where the Asteroid Belt sat. Mars, in the projection, was nowhere near it. The object tracked in, moving on a collision course for the sun after its gravity swings…

Dr. Murges felt his eyes blur when he saw the yellow line suddenly turn red…

And meander its way into one unlucky object within the inner solar system that would be in the way.

Course accuracy currently at 82 percent. An additional sighting in half an hour is required for 100 percent accuracy.

“Do it.” Murges croaked, already typing in that order to the Pathfinder program as he said it with a very shaky voice. He sat in silence, dreading the worst and praying a mantra that went please be wrong please be wrong please

The thirty minutes came and went, and Dr. Murges snapped out of his doomsaying daytime nightmare. He tapped the return key again, and waited.

The course didn’t move. Target confirmed.

Murges slumped back in his chair and shut his eyes. “God.” He sighed.

The new object was headed for straight for earth. It was at least fifty miles in diameter, probably wider, and it was gunning for them.

He didn’t notice the phones ring an hour later, or the security guard named Kelly walking in. Head in his hands, Dr. Murges jumped in his seat when a hand touched his shoulder.

“Dr. Murges?” Kelly asked him. “Is everything all right?”

Felman Murges managed a weak smile and glanced to his monitor. It had thankfully switched to the screensaver, keeping that most damaging revelation away from the poor boy’s eyes. “It’s been better, I’m afraid.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Nothing you can help me with.”

“Oh.” Kelly murmured, slowly nodding his head. “Well, I hope things get better for you.”

“We should always have hope.” Dr. Murges agreed, relieved that the youth remained obtuse to what was now eating away at him. “What did you need?”

“Well, there was this woman…Portia Callender, she said…asking for you? Apparently, you were supposed to meet her for lunch. I said I’d check to see if you were here or not.”

Dr. Murges shut his eyes. “I forgot. She’ll be disappointed in me.”

“Well, I have her on the line still, if you want to apologize.”

Wining and dining would have to wait, Dr. Murges told himself.

“Tell her something’s come up.” The astronomer stood up and patted Kelly on the shoulder. “Pass along my sincerest apologies, and the offer for a rain check.”

“Well…sure, I suppose, sir…If that’s what you want.” Kelly looked at him unsurely. “You sure you’re all right?”

“Kelly, right now, I need you to do what I’ve asked you to, and leave me be.” Dr. Murges said evenly. He didn’t blink, and he didn’t look away.

Kelly got the message, nodded, and walked back to the security desk in the observatory’s entryway. This was business.

Felman Murges reached into his desk and pulled out a tiny pager connected to a handful of similar devices that the observatory staff all carried. Six months ago, he had put electrical tape over one button, the “Call all”, after an embarrassing incident involving a former dance instructor, a beach at night, and the backseat of her car.

He pulled the tape off, and pressed the button.

Immediately after, he picked his phone off of its hook and dialed a number he hadn’t called in months…

The Second Rainbow Headquarters.

Ring.

Click.

“SRHQ, Director Hostick speaking.”

“Paul, it’s Felman.”

“Felman? My God! It’s been a long time, old friend. How’ve you been down in the tropics?”

“I’ve been better.” Felman told the Norwegian. “We have a situation.”

The mirth vanished from Paul van Hostick’s voice. “Bad?”

“As head of the Mauna Kea Observatory, I am declaring an Omega Event.”

He could hear Dr. Hostick suck in a sharp breath. He hung up and got back to work.

He’d said all he needed to. Omega Level was most severe of the Event warnings designed by the Second Rainbow’s department sub-coordinators, and triggered a recall of all active Second Rainbow personnel to their home base. Omega Level hadn’t been used at all since the Event system’s development in 2049. It had been believed, after Hyrmue’s Treeborgs solved the oxygen and ozone crisis, it would never be used again. Nobody ever expected it. Nobody wanted to.

Matsushida Apartment Building

Nishitama District, Tokyo, Japan

4:15 A.M.

The phone was ringing.

Dr. Light opened his eyes and stared blearily at his alarm clock. He didn’t like the time at all, and he especially didn’t like that the day immediately after he had been told he could not live in the house and on the land he owned, someone would think it was all right to bother him.

Neither he nor Albert Wily were particularly conscious. After the doctors had confirmed they were past the worst of the trauma, they’d wasted little time in venting the rage at their situation in the only way they knew how: Getting blind stinking drunk. At least Vinkus had set them up in temporary housing before Wily’d gotten more than three shots of Bourbon into his stomach.

“Al?” Light croaked. Unlike in the house they could no longer stay in, their beds were now crowded together in one small, cramped room. Wily didn’t move. “Al, the phone’s ringing.”

The scientist still didn’t move. Light could hear the scuffling of metallic feet on the ground nearby. Eddie was apparently up and about from his own recharge cycle. He wasn’t going to wake up Wily, though.

Nice to know the little squirt can play favorites.

“Fine.” Light sighed, and reached for the old-fashioned landline phone hooked up between their beds. “Yeah, who is this?”

“There you are. Do you realize how many times we’ve tried reaching your pagers?” Light cracked his eyes open a little wider. That voice…it sounded like…

“Oliver?” Light grunted and sat up a little straighter. “It’s four in the morning.”

Oliver Xanthos, the former Mr. X, was unapologetic. “Time waits for no man’s hangover to pass. Vinkus told me what you and Wily did to yourself after your little accident yesterday.”

Light sighed. “Al took the worst of it. No…wait. Scratch that. Eddie took the worst of it. Al used his head like a puke bucket.”

“For Eddie’s sake, I hope you got the mess cleaned up.”

“Yeah, I ran him under the shower. Nice to know the Fliptops are relatively waterproof.” Light shut his eyes and rubbed at them with the thumb and forefinger of his free hand. “Now what is it? Last I heard, you were running around in Europe putting funding together for the World Power Plant.”

“I was, two days ago. I was actually on my way to come visit you, but it doesn’t look like we’ve got the time.”

“Why? What’s happened?” Light asked with a yawn.

“You would know if you bothered to answer your pager. Director Hostick’s sent out an Omega Event advisory. Everybody in the Second Rainbow has to report to SRHQ. Jessica’s on her way out to pick you up…she should be there in two minutes.”

“Okay, sure.” Light shook his head and tried to pull himself to full consciousness. “Is that all?”

“…You really did go on a bender. I haven’t heard you this off since I treated you and Wily to some of my family’s personal vino 8 years ago.”

“No shit.” Light slammed the phone back on the hook, flopped on his back, and rubbed at his eyes again. His mouth was bone dry.

Wily finally moved, and lifted his head up from his pillow enough to speak. “Who wuzzat?”

“Xanthos.”

“Oh yeah? What did he want?”

“He said Jessica was coming to pick us up.”

“Why? Did something happen?”

Light looked over, and saw Wily had finally cracked a bleary eye open. The scientist who was looking more and more like Santa Claus every day shook his head. “He said something about a big meeting at the SRHQ…An Omega Event, or something. I don’t know.” Light shut his eyes and laid back, enjoying his warm bed.

Wily blinked a few times, then sat upright. “An Omega Event?”

“Yeah, that’s what he said.”

“And you’re not awake and scared shitless?”

Light let out a sigh and opened his eyes again. “Why? Should I be?”

“The Event advisory system that they made in 2049…Did you study it at all?”

“I skimmed over it. Just looked like too much bureaucracy for me to bother with.”

“If you had given it a look, you would know that we need to get moving.” Wily snarled. He sluggishly pulled himself out of bed. “An Omega Event is bad. The worst thing. It’s like hitting every alarm in the building, because the entire place is going to blow.”

Light sat up as well, clenching his teeth against the swoon of vertigo. “So what causes an Omega Event, exactly?”

“Something’s happening that will destroy the entire world.” Wily walked over by their closet and flipped on the room lights. Thomas Light narrowed his eyes to slits to escape the blinding pain. “And we’re being recalled to deal with it.”

“They picked a mighty fine time for it.” Light grumbled, lurching to his feet. He stumbled over a cold bump on the floor and faceplanted into Wily’s bed next to him, earning an indignant beep from below. “Oof!”

“You all right, Tom?”

An indignant beep came up from the floor, and Eddie shuffled away. “Oh, I’m fine.” Light said in a muffled tone. “Just tripping over things, is all. How much did we drink last night?”

“Too much.” Wily advised him. “I’m going to go make some coffee. We might as well try to sober up before Jessica gets here.”

Light stood back up, and was positioned close enough to the window to see a small VTOL airframe coming in for a landing in the apartment complex’s parking lot.

“Better make that coffee to go.” He advised his friend.

“All set?” Jessica called back over the transport’s headset radios. Light and Wily, neither in the best of moods, but slowly getting there with two travel cup ready servings of their favorite caffeinated brew, nodded.

The lurch of takeoff was still slightly unsettling to Light, who gripped his armrests hard and thanked the lord for cupholders. Wily glanced over, twirling his mustache with a smirk. “You going to live, Tom?”

“Nobody’s shooting at us this time.” His ashen faced friend replied gravely. “I’ll live.” He shut his eyes and took advantage of the headset Jessica had given him so they could talk over the noise of the VTOL transport. “So Jessica, how’s married life been treating you?”

“Pretty well, I’d say.” She said, a smile in her voice. “The only real difference is I’ve got a ring on my finger to say he belongs to me now. The Second Rainbow’s kept us pretty busy, though. Outside of our honeymoon, we haven’t exactly had a lot of time to just relax and be a married couple.”

“Relationships have their ups and downs.” Dr. Light told her. “As long as you two don’t stop loving each other, though, you should be just fine.”

“Hm.” Jessica looked over her shoulder to the two passengers and shrugged. “So what’s this about the two of you blowing up your house?”

The transport leveled off and turned towards the nearby airport. Wily drank some of his coffee before answering the question. “We didn’t blow up our house. The prototype synthesis setup in a Metool we were testing overloaded, and the little bugger ran outside. The explosion only tore a chunk out of the house’s side and scared the neighbors.”

“So now, we can’t live there anymore, and we’ve got to find someplace else we can do our experiments.” Light added bitterly. “As if we didn’t have enough trouble getting the place on Heiwa Drive the first time.”

“Japan isn’t the cheapest place to live, considering…but you two aren’t exactly poor.” Jessica offered. “You’ll figure something out. Maybe there’s a far-off corner a few kilometers outside of Tokyo’s outskirts you can hide out in. Someplace where there’s a lot of woods, maybe.”

“You have a place in mind?” Wily chuckled, drinking some more coffee.

The wife of Mr. X offered a noncommittal shrug and kept flying the plane. “There’s a transport plane waiting at the airport for us. We’ll be meeting up with some other Second Rainbow personnel. Your friend Mr. Grant, for instance, along with Oliver.”

Light drank some more coffee and offered silent thanks for the smooth flight. “How many people from the Second Rainbow are they calling in to deal with this?”

Wily wasted no words or explanation.

“Everyone.”

Second Rainbow Headquarters

Ewan Lake, Alaska

April 22nd, 2055 C.E.

6:24 P.M.

There had not been an assembly like this one in eight years. Back then, they had come together for the first time as one, and were told that the hundred and some odd scientists, physicists, engineers, and technicians of every applicable field were the world’s last hope at survival.

For the better part of a decade, they had given it everything they had. Some had died. Some had become outcasts. Some suffered on in silence. Their work had meaning, and slowly, steadily, they had begun to reclaim back the earth from the precipice it dangled over. They had nullified regions of sparse radioactivity, restored the ozone layer, made a new generation of crops, taken a sobering world census, reconnected global communication, and were beginning to rebuild.

Now, the first Omega Event to be issued since the system was established in the wake of the ozone crisis had brought them all back. The SRHQ was finished, and so it was not in a hastily constructed tent meeting hall, but the building’s hologram-equipped, air-conditioned auditorium. It had seats for 600, and the Second Rainbow’s project personnel numbered barely three-fourths of that…assistants and non-essentials included.

They shifted in their seats, muttered back and forth to each other. The questions were inevitable. Who knew what was going on? What was the emergency? Who had called it?

The members of the Second Rainbow quieted down when Director Paul Van Hostick walked up to the stages’ podium. The weary old Swede looked around the room without smiling.

“All of you have been gathered because an Omega Event warning has been issued. Let me clarify something to ease your tensions. This threat does not come from a rogue nation, or any government collapse. Humanity has not raised arms against its fellows. If that were the case, you would know it before you came here.”

A few did relax. Most did not. Both Light and Wily, who had recovered from their hangovers on the flight to Alaska, shared one quick glance before looking over to Oliver Xanthos and his wife, Jessica. The married couple, one row over and one down, clasped their hands between them and waited.

Wily looked back over his shoulder to where Ezriah Hyrmue, now a Second Rainbow retiree, stared back at him. The British cybotanist shook his head and mouthed the answer Wily had been seeking. It’s not me.

Wily stared back at the podium and twirled his mustache. If it wasn’t a problem with the ozone again…then what would it be?

Hostick kept going. “I will be turning the stage over to one of our own in a moment, so he can explain what the threat is. Before I do, I would like to remind everyone that the world at large is not aware of this problem. Thanks to our on-site CNN reporter, Marcel d’Whyste, they do know a meeting concerning an Omega Event crisis is taking place…” He motioned out to them, “…But not what it concerns. All non-Second Rainbow personnel have been barred from this meeting. We need to approach this problem as we have all others: With courage, with vision, and with unified effort. Until we can do that, we are not leaving this auditorium. The Second Rainbow is more than just a collection of scientists, my friends. We are the world’s hope. When we leave here tonight, the world will see us at our best. Considering what we are facing, it deserves nothing less.” He closed his eyes as if in prayer, then nodded. “Please welcome your comrade, and the one who sounded the warning…Dr. Felman Murges.”

The fellow who had lived for years in a sweltering tropical climate now dressed in a full pinstripe suit, a Second Rainbow lapel pin on the coat’s collar. He moved resolutely up to the podium, walking in silence without any applause to aid him. The determination in his eyes acted as a lighthouse for the others, drawing them in from the rocky waters of their own fears and doubts. Here was a man with the answers…a man who had the look of purpose to him. Having that helped them to relax.

He cleared his throat. “The name’s Felman Murges. I come from Sweden, and my specialty is astronomy and physics. While the rest of you have been cleaning up the muck and leftovers around the world, I’ve been down in Mauna Kea with the rest of the Second Rainbow’s astronomers keeping an eye on the skies above.”

A look of sudden recognition passed over the audience. The mere mention of Murges’ specialty had set their brains to working, and only one answer was thoroughly plausible…and frightening.

Dr. Murges closed his eyes and nodded. “I put out the Omega Event because of this.”

The holographic projector behind him kicked on, putting up a grainy resolution photo above the stage of a tiny white dot in a sea of black and other white dots.

“We have designated this object as 73465 Epoch, or Epoch for short. It is roughly 135 kilometers in diameter, and likely hails from the Oort Cloud. Its composition is unknown for the moment, but given the region, it is likely a comet, a massive ball of ice.” He paused to adjust his glasses. “Tracking indicates a near 100 percent chance that this object will strike the Pacific Ocean. The margin for error has it hitting either North America or Asia otherwise. In any case, this impact will be catastrophic; The asteroid that supposedly wiped out the dinosaurs 65 million years ago in conjunction with a volcanic super-eruption is estimated to have only been 56 kilometers in diameter. What’s drawing a line at us now is more than twice as large, and I promise you, if it hits, there will be nothing left on Earth. Nothing will survive.”

Dr. Murges could feel the palpable silence drowning the room. He exhaled, and stared straight ahead, unable to meet their eyes. “We have five years before this object will strike us. That’s five years to come up and implement a plan that will help us to either defeat Epoch, or escape its effects.”

There was no shortage of ideas from the multitude, and those that were even somewhat versed in the asteroidal doomsday theory and some of the solutions saw them coming a mile away.

The direct approach was favored by some; launching a heavy projectile at the object, perhaps with a nuclear warhead, and obliterating it. That one was quickly shot down after it was determined the payload would only fracture it apart and leave a storm of radioactive asteroids for Earth to contend with. This method had the pacifists of the Second Rainbow in arms, because any use of nuclear weapons was unthinkable and abominable to them.

Another method was the altering of its trajectory through a slow and gradual burn. Steps had been made before the Wars into advancing ionic drives from their theoretical and prototype stages into a more acceptable means of spaceborne propulsion. This method had more converts, but the speed the object was moving at, as well as concerns about its yet unknown stability and composition made it moot. They might have been able to launch a series of ionic drive equipped space probes and program them to seek out the object and attach with it, but it could turn out to be a wasted effort if it truly was a comet. The closer it would come to the inner solar system, the more it would heat up, and the once solid surface the probes would presumably latch on to would be gone in a heartbeat.

In the end, after the panic had subsided and the other ideas had been washed away through thoughtful (And sometimes thoughtless) discussion, one proposal shone through. Oddly enough, it was Felman Murges who came up with the idea.

Forty minutes into the heated, but orderly debate in the SRHQ’s meeting hall, the old Swede took his glasses off, rubbed at them for a moment, and then lifted an eyebrow suddenly. It was in a lull in the conversation, and the sudden movement from the scientist captured the room’s attention.

He pondered the notion for a bit longer, then stared up at the ceiling.

The SRHQ Director spoke up in the silence. “Did you have something to add, Dr. Murges?”

“An idea. Perhaps.” Felman mused, turning towards the audience again without looking at them. “An energy weapon.”

Nobody laughed, and that was a sign of how serious and knowledgeable the Second Rainbow was. Laser weaponry had been perfected during the wars. Plasma weaponry was still coming into its own. Anywhere else in the world, his remark would have been met with derision. Here, they listened.

“Ideally, we should build something that can not only stand against this threat, but can also handle whatever else will come our way after. That means a lasting installation, something we can not only build, but do maintenance on as needed. Something outside of Earth’s atmosphere, so there will be no possibility of diffusion or refraction. Multiple power sources…Fusion reactors, naturally. But also, we can take a note from our forebears…solar energy.”

His eyes lit up. “More than solar energy. A solar cannon.”

“You mean to harness the sun to make a beam weapon?” One of the agricultural specialists asked dubiously.

“The sun is the largest, most enduring power source we have.” Dr. Murges argued. “We would be fools not to take advantage of it. Unfocused sunlight is what causes comets to burn away its mass into a vaporous trailing tail. A focusing array could increase that power. Perhaps even the range. With it, we might just be able to redirect its path by eliminating its mass.”

“Even with that, there will be no force behind it.” Paul Beskin argued from the left center. “Changing its mass will not alter its course in any meaningful fashion unless that alteration is sudden. A solar cannon’s a nice idea, but we’ve never done anything like it before. It’s untested, and we need to come up with serious strategies to stop this.”

“Listen to yourself.” Ezriah Hyrmue piped in bitterly. “We haven’t done it before. Of course we haven’t done it before, you stupid yank. Eight years ago, we’d never tried to repair a failing ozone layer, but we did it. And we didn’t accomplish that miracle playing it safe or complaining about the odds. Desperate times call for crazy ideas, and I’m all for building this…well, whatever it is…and giving it a try. It’s gads better than firing off every last nuclear missile and hoping it doesn’t bite us in the arse later, or launching ionic drive rockets and trying to alter the course of a mountain with a few sherpas and a camel.”

“The bloke’s got a point.” Titus Grant agreed, bobbing his head. “If we can undo radiation poisoning in the earth, the atmosphere, and living creatures, build mechanical trees, and make robots that live up to Isaac Asimov’s vision, then I say we can pull this off too. The Hell with it all. I’m in.”

Dr. Yuri Cossack, the grizzled botanist from Russia and the father of his estranged son Mikhail “Sergei” Sergeyivich Cossack, had a more sobering tone. “If you try to build a planetary defense platform with just a single weapon, then you’re all damn fools. It’s going to take more than a flashlight to stop this thing, I promise you…and lasers just won’t cut it. To put a dent in this thing, you’d need an armory of explosives.”

Wily sat up a little straighter, and Light could tell by the glint in his frosty eyes that his partner had something devious in mind. “Or a plasma cannon.”

This suggestion did cause people to laugh, none more so than those who loved to see the two robotic geniuses of the Second Rainbow fall flat on their faces.

“A grand idea, but one sorely lacking in sense and sensibility.” Came the response from Bailey Flynn, the Irishman who’d perfected fusion power. “Nobody’s been able to crack that egg since we first started talkin’ about it.”

“We’re close, though.” Wily insisted. “Thomas and I have been developing a new advancement for a self-contained plasma arc welder that functions through an enclosed toroidal effect. We’ve been building it for our Metool line, but it shouldn’t take too much extra effort to enlarge it. I’m positive that with this much time, we can bear down and complete it!”

“Oh, aye.” Dr. Flynn yawned. “And whose house were ye planning on blowing up next, then?” His snappy comeback evoked more laughter from the room, and Wily went red in the face.

Light intervened, setting a hand on his friend’s shoulder and glancing about the room with a stern gaze, daring them to say more.

“Accidents happen. We don’t let it stand in the way of progress. Al believes we can get this done. I agree with him. As much as I loathe using any technology of our making for weapons, even those that would be made in self-defense, this “Epoch” has left us no choice. For the sake of the earth, we must do everything in our power.” He pointed at Dr. Murges. “You’ll get your plasma cannon. I just hope to Christ your orbital platform will have the juice to sustain it.”

Dr. Bailey Flynn let out a long sigh, and shrugged. “Before ye all get going too crazy with this idea, perhaps we’d better put it to a vote. After all, a project like this one, you’re talkin’ vast mobilization of resources. Everybody’s going to have a hand in this if we go with it.” He jerked a thumb at Yuri Cossack. “Hell, even the botanists are going to have to do some work, starting up a process of perfecting plants that kin grow in zero gravity.”

Director Hostick took that as his cue to head back up to the podium. “All right, then. All in favor of going with Dr. Murges’ asteroid defense orbital weapons platform, raise your hands.”

Fully sixty percent of the audience raised their arms in a vote of aye…and upon seeing which way the wind was blowing, the rest soon followed. Hostick stared out over the unanimous crowd, and felt a lump rise in his throat.

“The motion passes. We’re moving ahead with this.” He glanced to Darwin Vinkus. “You’re our U.N. liason, Mr. Vinkus. Put together a statement for the press and a bulletin to the Security Council. We’ve been given the authority to use whatever resources are needed to put this planet back on its feet…We may need more approval to build something that will defend it instead, although I doubt we’ll have anybody that says no.”

“Unlikely.” Darwin muttered from his spot in the audience. “This “Epoch” is enough to make even the most tightfisted spendthrift slash the moneybag open.”

Director Hostick stepped aside and set a hand on Felman’s shoulder. “All right, old friend.” He told his countryman. “You’re in charge of this project. Just tell us what you need.”

Murges took in a deep breath, and the enormity of what he had just proposed fell on top of him. He managed the extra weight well enough, though.

“For now, I need to meet with all the engineers who’ve had anything to do with building spacecraft, and a reference file of all space stations going back to Skylab. We’ll be recruiting Second Rainbow members as needed. We’ve got five years, and I guarantee that each and every one of you will be called up before the end of this. For now, get back to your business…Except for Dr. Flynn. Do you think you can start work on an oversized fusion reactor for this behemoth?”

The Irishman’s curiosity was piqued. “Just how large are we talking here, boyo?”

Murges pursed his lips. “We’re trying to shoot down or redirect an object 135 kilometers across. Plan on the station being three kilometers in diameter at the least.” Flynn swore, and Murges forged on, caught up in the moment. “My fellow members of the Rainbow, this is what we came here for. This is what we’ve prepared for. This is our make or break moment, and I don’t know about any of you, but I think we’ve all the brilliance and courage to save the entire planet. The Earth’s kept us alive for a very long while. It’s time we repaid the favor.”

A few seconds later, Director Hostick dismissed them, and the rank and file of the Second Rainbow headed for the doors, murmuring quietly to themselves about what would have to be done.

Light and Wily stayed in their seats, watching it all and absorbing the last hour. In particular, they had trouble dealing with what they’d just agreed to.

“You told him we could build him a toroidal plasma cannon that could shoot down a planet-busting asteroid.” Light muttered.

“And you agreed with me.” Wily shot back. “See what happens when we try a role reversal? Your ideas may be crazy, but they’re plausible. It seems as though I’ve landed us in a mess of trouble, old friend.”

“It’s just work.” Dr. Light resolved, standing up. “It’s a nice way to end a hangover, though; with more work ahead of us." He held out a hand for his friend.

“Hm.” Wily stood up with Light’s assistance, tottered for a bit, and then took a deep breath of air to steel his nerves. “The first thing we need to do is find a house where the neighbors won’t mind us causing explosions in the middle of the night.”

“Screw that noise.” Light snapped, walking them towards their old friend Titus Grant, who was riding home with them. “We’ll build our own damn house out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Where?” Wily chortled. “You know how expensive land is in Japan.”

“We’re filthy stinking rich and we’ve got more friends than we know what to do with.” Light grinned. “We’ll build it wherever the Hell we want to.”

CNN Live Broadcast

Second Rainbow Headquarters, Ewan Lake, Alaska

April 22nd, 2055 C.E.

7:47 P.M.

“We now take you to our Second Rainbow on-site reporter, Marcel d’Whyste…Marcel?”

“Yes, thank you, Tom. I’m standing just outside of the SRHQ’s main audience chamber. Earlier this evening, I was barred access to this pavilion, as the entire staff of the Second Rainbow was called into session. We were not sure what was the cause for the meeting, and the only piece of information I was given was that an Omega Event had been declared. For those of you that are not aware, the Second Rainbow has a rating system to label the various crises they address. An Omega Event is the worst possible scenario; a worldwide threat of great magnitude. This emergency summoned all personnel from every corner of the globe, regardless of prior task or purpose. It had been believed after the ozone layer was restored that there would never be another Omega Event.

About 20 minutes ago, the closed session of the Second Rainbow’s members got out. I, along with the rest of the press stationed here at Ewan Lake’s premiere destination, tried to speak with them for some clue as to what had gone inside. I was left with a cold shoulder and a repeated answer that Darwin Vinkus, the U.N. representative for the Second Rainbow coalition, would speak to me. We have been waiting here for him to make an appearance since then, and I..

Wait. Ladies and gentlemen, I think I see him now. Yes, he’s coming this way. Representative Vinkus! Sir, would you mind telling us what went on in there? And why were you so late in coming to speak with us?”

“Believe it or not, Mr. d’Whyste, not everyone has time to waste jawing newspeoples’ ears off. For the record, I was busy preparing a statement for the United Nations security council about what was discussed inside. You get the abridged version. Are we rolling?”

“Never stopped.”

“Good. You’re only getting this once, because we’re going to be very busy around here in short order. One of our scientists, an astronomer working down in Mauna Kea in Hawaii, picked up an inbound asteroid heading for Earth. The thing’s called Epoch, and it’s scheduled to hit five years from now, and closing fast. The thing’s about 84 American miles in diameter, and if it did hit, there wouldn’t be enough of a planet left to save…and there wouldn’t be anybody left to save it. The reason we were in closed session was because we didn’t want anybody panicking until we’d figured out what to do about it.”

“So there’s a plan, then?”

“You can print that. The Second Rainbow has a plan. We’re committing all necessary and available resources into the construction of an orbital asteroid defense platform. The best and the brightest from the Second Rainbow are working on this, and they’re coming up with some pretty phenomenal ideas.”

“So how exactly do you plan on keeping this Epoch asteroid from hitting earth? I’m not certain, but wasn’t the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs about 30 miles wide?”

“More or less. As I said, a lot of good ideas will be going into this.”

“Such as? Will you be using nuclear missiles?”

“The Second Rainbow threw that idea out in the first fifteen minutes of discussion. No. There’s too much of a risk of fallout…radioactive and political. I won’t go into the specifics of what all’s going into it, because the project manager’s still working on that and getting people together.”

“So who’s all involved with this space station? Who’s in charge of this?”

“The man you want to speak with is Dr. Felman Murges, astronomer and physicist from Sweden. But I’m going to warn you, d’Whyste…keep out of his hair for the next few weeks. He just got a lot dumped on his plate.”

“I see. Well, I won’t keep you from your own pressing duties too much longer. Is there anything else you wish to add to your disappointingly brief statements?”

“Just this; The Second Rainbow was created to save the world after humanity fouled it up. This expands our mission statement a fair deal, but there’s not a doubt in my mind that we will triumph. To those of you out there listening in your homes, scared and frightened…don’t be. We’re going to make it through this. We’re going to live. We’re going to shine.”

“Thank you, Representative Vinkus. Well, ladies and gentlemen, there you have it. Straight from the mouth of the Second Rainbow’s voice. An asteroid is set to hit Earth in 2060 with more force than what wiped out the dinosaurs 65 million years ago, and the men and women of the Second Rainbow will be making a space station to stop it from making impact. There’s certainly a lot more to this story, and I’ll be trying my darndest to get the scientists here to open up about it. I’ll let you know when I hear more. For now, this is Marcel d’Whyste, from Second Rainbow Headquarters in Alaska, signing out.”

“Thank you, Marcel. This is certainly a dark day for humanity…Our hopes and prayers here at CNN headquarters go out to the brave heroes within the Second Rainbow. The entire planet is counting on you. Godspeed.”

12 Miles North-Northwest of Tokyo, Japan

Shugoya Treeborg Preserve, southern edge

April 30th, 2055 C.E.

11:32 A.M.

An entire squadron of Metools swarmed over the worksite, chirping and beeping as their Japanese human overseers, wearing the same style of helmet the Metools wore, barked out orders at them.

“Oi, nan dai o?! Aah, roboto no baka!” One frustrated overseer groaned as one Metool used a buzzsaw attachment and cut off a piece of treeborg lumber two inches shorter than it needed to be. He squatted down and pointed. “Mijikaku suru koko de, wakarimasu? Wakarimasu yo?!”

The Metool beeped back at him, and the human stood back up. He took his helmet off and wiped at his forehead.

Standing back and watching the hastily assembled building project, Dr. Light and Wily calmly sipped beers with their friend and employee, Titus Grant. The Australian raised an eyebrow at the sight.

“You know, you two yanks have gotta be the only people I know that’d go out and get this many Metools to build a house.”

“Just because most of these so-called “Hard Hats” have been put to work in damage recovery zones and mining operations doesn’t mean they can’t be used for other things.” Dr. Light remarked. “Hell, we made them with utility in mind. Give them the right tool for the job, and you’ve got yourself a workhorse.”

“Not to mention one that doesn’t mind overtime, provided you give it time for a stasis nap and a recharge every now and then.” Wily added.

“Huh.” Titus took a draw from his longneck. “Why do you advise shutting down all your robots periodically?”

“It gives them time to clean up their memory cache.” Light smiled as another Metool used a specially modified motorsled to haul a load of bricks closer to the worksite. “From the EDY series and on up, everything we’ve made runs on a positronic matrix with Asimovian heuristics. Basically, all those little decisions that a robot makes throughout the day get filtered through the Core Module, and the memory buffer in there is pretty huge, but the more a robot does, the more it adds up. While it hasn’t happened yet, it is plausible that a robot who didn’t go into stasis and allow their Core Module to refresh the memory cache might end up…well, glitchy."

“Glitchy?” Titus repeated, raising an eyebrow. “How exactly would that work?”

“Think of it like a water filter.” Wily said. “When you run water through it, the impurities get left behind. Then you replace the filter. Same thing happens with our robots, only the impurities are bits of data from past decisions. The filter gets full enough, the robot can’t process commands as easily. It gets sluggish, its processes slow down as it tries to compensate…theoretically, it could lead to a cascade failure.”

“But, like I said, that hasn’t happened yet.” Light smiled. “We get slow and sleepy when we go for too long without a good six hours or so. The same thing happens with Metools, and thankfully, the people who use them are good enough to know when they’re not running at peak capacity and let them plug in, shut down, and recharge.”

“Most of the time.” Wily said. When Titus looked at him, he explained the remark. “There was an incident in Bern, Germany…some putz hooked up a Metool to a wireless energy receiver and kept it active for three weeks straight. It ended up going haywire and marching into an active blast zone; only thing that survived the collapse of that old bombed out building was its helmet.”

“That says something about the helmet.” Titus laughed. “I still think you two were crazy to volunteer making a plasma cannon. I thought you two had sworn off ever making weapons.”

“We refused to make robots as weapons. But the fact of the matter is, even if we may not like it, this project’s going to need that plasma cannon.” Wily kept a grim perspective. “I just wish there was some way that nobody could ever take our gifts to humanity and turn them into tools of pointless self-destruction.”

“We’ll get there.” Light promised his friend. He looked to Titus and nodded. “I’ve got a promise to keep, after all. The one I made to Latch.”

The mention of Latchkey put a solemn spin on their conversation. All three of them still remembered their long dead fourth team member in the Rainbow’s foundling days.

Every man standing there still remembered the boy’s last words. Up to you.

“To old friends.” Titus exhaled, raising his beer.

“Old friends.” Light repeated the toast.

“We’ll build this one weapon. Just one.” Wily agreed. “And maybe by the time we’re done, we’ll have saved a world that Latch could be proud of.”

“He’s already proud of it.” Dr. Light said distantly. His eyes turned back to the worksite, and he sipped some more of his beer. “I had the foreman promise they’d finish the workshop first.”

“What did he say when you told him you’d be working on another possibly exploding Metool when they got it ready?” Titus asked.

Dr. Thomas Light grinned, looking for a moment as crafty as his wild-haired counterpart.

“I didn’t tell him.”

Mauna Kea Observatories

Hawaii

May 3rd, 2055 C.E.

7:52 A.M.

Dr. Murges wasn’t surprised to find Kelly on call again. He marveled at how the young man, who’d barely been a preschooler when the Wars started, could turn out so perfectly normal.

The security guard looked up and smiled as Murges flashed his badge. “Morning, doc.”

“Good morning yourself, Kelly.” The silver-haired Swede said. “How are you feeling today?”

“Pretty good considering, sir.” Kelly tipped his hat. “You and the Second Rainbow are on top of things, and my girlfriend…”

“You’ve finally started calling her that?”

“Well, after I told Susan I loved her, the rest fell into place.” Kelly blushed. “We had a romantic picnic with cold crab legs last night.”

“I understand, I understand.” Dr. Murges waved off the rest with a chuckle. “Young men do love to boast about their conquests, but I’d best not allow myself to become distracted.”

“Yeah, you’ve got that space station to build.” Kelly nodded. “I heard that it’s supposed to cost upwards of a trillion dollars?”

“I’d rather have it be expensive and work than cut corners and die in 2060, son.” Felman tapped the edge of the security guard’s desk and smiled. “Well, then. I’d best get to work and stop jawing your ear off.” He picked up his briefcase and walked towards his office.

“How far along is it, anyhow?” Kelly called after him.

Dr. Murges waved back, but didn’t answer.

After the rest of the Mauna Kea astronomers greeted him warmly and offered their own wishes for success, he set his briefcase down beside his computer and powered it up. After logging in, he checked his inbox.

The message was from the Engineering division he’d tapped back in Alaska. They’d finished their preliminary schematics.

There’s room for alterations here and there, but this is the most functional design shape for solar collection and redirection. We’re still not sure how Light and Wily plan on putting their plasma cannon into the mix here, so that may change things. If we can collaborate with them in the final stages, there might be a way to put your solar cannon on top of their plasma shooter. (Side note; can we think of a better name than cannon? The warlike connotation is something we’ll want to avoid, for publicity’s sake.) Take a look, confer with your astrophysicists at Mauna Kea, and get back to us with approval or any changes you’d like to make.

P.S: This thing’s going to need a name. We couldn’t think of a good acronym that had enough punch ourselves. Any thoughts?

P.P.S: Director Hostick’s sending out a space veteran to help you out; he should be arriving before noon today. You probably know him; Georges Shaler.

“Shaler?” Murges exclaimed softly. He rolled his eyes and laughed. “Yes, I know him.” The Spanish-born engineer had cut his teeth in the Rainbow helping Light and Wily to reposition pre-Wars satellites into a functional communications network, and had remained the reigning authority on orbital equipment. Murges remained somewhat surprised that Shaler hadn’t been put in charge of the project instead of him, but maybe Shaler preferred the role of distant advisor.

If only I were as lucky, Murges thought. Shaler would end up getting the better end of the deal. He would be free to work without the stresses of being in charge of the massive undertaking…and the bothersome attention that came with it.

Murges shoved that one irritating detail out of his mind and opened up the attached schematic.

The station’s design resembled that of a large flower blossom, petals outstretched around it. The scale of the construct was mind boggling; a full five kilometers wide, there was no doubt it would be the largest structure in space.

At five kilometers width, it put all other construction projects, save for the Great Wall, to shame.

We’re building this, Murges realized. A faint buzz rose in his ears. This thing is enormous, and we’re building it.

Kelly’s blurb about the cost had been accurate. This orbital defense platform would be the most expensive thing the Second Rainbow had yet done. There were still questions about how it was going to be built, even; piece by piece and rocketed up into the atmosphere for quick connection, or would they have to build it all in orbit to make sure it held together? And how would they defend it from smaller meteorites, tiny bombardments during construction?

The Second Rainbow wielded enormous power under the United Nations. Approving the budget for this was mere formality, and were it anything else, the Second Rainbow wouldn’t even bother to ask; they’d just do it.

“Might makes right, eh?” Murges mumbled. There were days he wasn’t comfortable with the influence they had, necessary and as prudent as it might be.

Hopefully, corruption would not follow the Second Rainbow’s far-reaching power. Their immediate and most pressing problem was the 135 kilometer wide Epoch heading their way, but it would be nice if they didn’t sacrifice everything that kept them honest in the process.

Put it to bed, Felman. Stay focused. They asked you to name this thing.

He pondered that question in silence for a full two hours. It was only a beep of his phone that brought him out of it. He reached across his desk and punched the speakerphone button. “Murges here.”

“Dr. Murges, there’s a Mr. Georges Shaler here to see you.”

“Ah, the Castilian.” Felman smiled. “Send him in. I’ve been waiting.” He switched the phone off, stood up, and brushed a few errant gray hairs off of his usual Hawaiian shirt and shorts.

A swarthy black-haired Spanish man came into his office not long after, beaming wide and holding his arms out to the side. “Aah, j’es. Doctor Murges, it is good to see j’oo.”

The purposefully exaggerated accent made Felman crack a grin and laugh, bringing the man in for a handshake and a slap on the back. “You still keeping up that voice of yours, I see. Be honest. Does it really help attract the ladies?”

Shaler pulled back a ways and shrugged with a coy expression. “Eet never hurts.” He said, then switched to a more normalized voice. “Now then. Have the engineers at SRHQ gotten back to you yet?”

Murges motioned for Shaler to follow him and showed him the monitor. “I was just staring at their preliminary blueprints.”

“Dios mio, that thing is enormous!” Georges exclaimed. He set a hand on Murges’ desk and leaned in towards the screen. “Five kilometers?”

“It needs to be that large.” Murges gave his head a quick shake. “This thing’s got multiple power sources, and we’re planning on making it bristle with every known armament possible. This solar cannon idea of mine, laser artillery, non-nuclear missiles, and of course, that plasma cannon that Light and Wily said they could build. God willing.”

“I sincerely hope that you have some way of ensuring the already tense population that this orbiting station of destruction will never be used on them.”

“Already thought of.” Murges assured his cohort. “We’ll be giving the navigation systems a hard-wired command to shut down all systems if it ever rotates in to face the Earth. It won’t have a reason to, though; all the solar panels will be on the reverse side of the ‘petals’ to keep in line with the sun. Turning the station around would be a waste of resources and time.”

“Good, good.” Shaler nodded. “Well, what did you want me to do, now that I’m working under you?”

“Do everything I can’t.” Murges advised the Spaniard. “Chances are good I’ll be too busy filling out progress reports, answering questions, and doing paperwork to get anything detailed and specific done on this.”

“Aah, then you are becoming a true leader.” Shaler chuckled. “Delegating tasks and authority. Very well. I shall do what I can. In the meantime, I have been wondering…what exactly will we be calling this floating defender in the skies?”

“I had just gotten done thinking about that when you came in.” Felman puffed his chest out proudly. “It took me a bit to think of a name and designation that would fit it. Spaceborne Kaleidoscopic Yield, Large Interdictive Guardian (with Heliofocusing Transformer).”

Shaler blinked. “That in itself is quite a mouthful.”

“Well, I picked out the definition after I came up with the name, that’s part of the problem for why it’s so odd sounding.” Murges explained.

Georges Shaler crossed his arms. “For your sake, I hope it is a good one.”

“It’ll do.” Murges’ eyes twinkled. “Skylight.”

Shaler sifted the word around in his head. “SKYLIGHT, eh?”

“Project SKYLIGHT.” Murges confirmed.

Shaler laughed and patted Felman’s shoulder. “It will do, sir. It will do.”

“Yeah. The name’s out of the way, at least.” Murges harrumphed. “Now comes the hard part. Building the damn thing.”

The New Home of Dr. Light and Dr. Wily, Workshop

Shugoya Treeborg Preserve, 12 Miles NNW of Tokyo, Japan

May 10th, 2055 C.E.

2:47 P.M.

It was a different place, a different experiment, but the basics remained the same as Dr. Light and Dr. Wily ran through their final checklist. Another Metool, no longer their now atomized comrade Matt but a newly created one, sat in the durable workshop…within a blastproof plasteel container erected for the test.

“Hydrogen synthesis module.” Light called out.

Wily checked his readouts. “Synthesis module is running normally. The code changes we put in to ensure decreased production during active use are holding. No glitches.”

“Hydrogen bottle?”

Wily sighed in exasperation. “The particle storage unit is active. Containment field is nominal. Didn’t I tell you before to use the proper name for it?”

“I ignored you then, I’m ignoring you now.” Light chortled. “All right! Particle condensing emitter?”

The Metool bobbed its yellow helmet up and down, but without the same quirky character Matt once had.

“Emitter is a go.” Wily said.

Light drummed his fingers on his leg and checked the next item on his datapad’s list. “Quiet O2 compressor and burner feed?”

“Running. No errors.”

“Electromagnetic field projector?”

“Nominal.” Wily glanced over to Light. “I’m worried, though. We’re using it beyond its original design specs. We built it to make a containing EM field for the Metool’s plasma arc cutter/welder. We never intended to have the plasma toroid maintain field strength long enough to have it function as a ‘bullet.’ Even with this crystal focusing rod to tighten the field, I’m worried.”

“You never know if something will work until you try.” Light reminded his friend. “Nice to see you’re letting me be the optimist again.”

“It didn’t suit me. Besides, telling Murges we’d make him this plasma cannon counted as my dumb bright spot of hopefulness for the year. Right now, I’m just hoping we don’t blow ourselves up.”

“Look at it like this. We’ve eliminated the fuser flint. This focusing rod does the same thing, and it prevents a spark hazard. It also gives us a bit more control over the toroid strength and size.”

“In theory.”

“This is all theoretical, Will.” Light rolled his eyes. “The checklist is clear. Let’s do this.”

“All right. Here goes nothing.” Wily started recording the Metool’s sensor data and whistled at it. “Metool, go ahead and power up your plasma cannon. Aim for the target.”

Inside, a dense lump of ferrous iron and carbon from deep in the earth stood ten feet away from the yellow helmeted robot. The tiny mechanoid blinked and centered in on the red and white painted target circle they’d crudely painted on the chunk of rock, and opened its mouth.

Positioned where they were, Light and Wily could not make out the details, but both knew full well that the Metool was powering up its systems. First would come the EM field projector, which defined the shape that the plasma toroid would take on. Next, a dose of synthesized hydrogen and compressed oxygen would pump into the space within the shielded field…and then ignite with a powerful, focused blitz of energy through the crystal focusing rod placed inside of its mouth. Once set aglow, the ruby-colored focus would further attune the plasma to the EM field, giving it an inverse cohesiveness; the charge of the plasma itself helped to power and support the bullet’s edges.

Oddly enough, the red color of the focusing rod would make it seem as though the Metool had a tongue.

There was a flare of light in front of the Metool, and Light and Wily both shielded their eyes as the Metool unleashed the shot. Almost instantly came the sound of a small explosion, and the plasteel shield around the experiment rattled.

Disappointed, Light and Wily lowered their hands and expected to see the Metool lying in a destroyed pile of melted scrap.

To their amazement…and joy…the Metool stood undamaged.

The lump of rock twice its size, however, had been blown apart into tiny, glowing chunks.

“Holy shhh…” Light hissed.

Wily’s mustache twitched as he let in a gentle smile. “Ja. Ser gut.”

“There’s nothing left of it.” Light stammered. “That Metool just…busted it apart.”

Wily blinked. “Say that again.”

“I said, it busted that rock!”

“…Plasma buster.” Wily mused.

The two scientists shared a look.

“It’s got a good ring to it.” Wily went on.

“Yeah…sounds a lot better than plasma cannon, I’ll give you that.” Light brushed a hand through his hair. “Jesus.”

The Metool turned about and looked up at them, beeping expectantly.

“No, you don’t need to shoot it again.” Wily sighed. “There’s nothing left to shoot at.” He checked the Metool’s vitals on his laptop. “You’re not going to believe this, Tom…But we’ve finally stabilized the synthesis module.”

“…No errors? Even after that?”

“None.” Wily turned it around and showed him. “Heh…All green. Congratulations, Dr. Light. We’ve succeeded in making a popgun that can blow up a boulder.”

“Without blowing ourselves up in the process.” Light said. He scratched at his beard. “We’ve got some more testing to do…range versus energy dissipation, that sort of thing…but I’d call this the end of phase one.”

“Yeah. All the steps in between come next.” Wily agreed. He walked over and opened up the blast container, picking up their test Metool. “And only then, do we get around to doing what we came here for.”

“Yeah.” Light took the Metool from Wily and set it on one of their worktables. “Command code; Unit shutdown for recharge and stasis.”

The Metool chirped and settled in under its helmet, going silent and cold.

Light and Wily headed outside of their workshop and took a look around the still busy worksite. Human construction workers and Metools working side by side continued to build up the rest of their house, sitting on the edge of the massive Treeborg grove. A set of railroad tracks ran by their house, only thirty yards off.

They looked up at a clear blue cloudless sky and covered their eyes.

“We just saved this world.” Light told Wily. “I’ll be damned if I let some chunk of space rock wipe us all out after everything we’ve done.”

“Well, nice to hear you’re fired up about this.” Wily chuckled. “All you have to do now is make a plasma buster 2000 times larger and more powerful.”

“Way to take the wind out of my sails.”

“Just keeping things in perspective, Tom.” Dr. Wily smirked. “I didn’t say you couldn’t. It’s just going to be a lot of work.”

“We’ve never backed down from a challenge before, old friend.” Dr. Light said. Wily looked at him and nodded.

Project SKYLIGHT was crazy. It was big, and expensive, and hardly even started…

But in a world on a deadline and filled with possibilities and brilliant minds, crazy fit right in.

Perhaps tomorrow Light and Wily would begin to worry. But for now, they savored their moment of scientific triumph, and enjoyed that perfect day.

Out in the fringe of the solar system, Epoch drew closer.