Read Online Superhero Universe: Tesseracts Nineteen by David Perlmutter, Brent Nichols, Claude Lalumiere, Mark Shainblum, Chadwick Ginther, Michael Matheson, Mary Pletsch, Jennifer Rahn, Corey Redekop, Bevan Thomas - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: David Perlmutter, Brent Nichols, Claude Lalumiere, Mark Shainblum, Chadwick Ginther, Michael Matheson, Mary Pletsch, Jennifer Rahn, Corey Redekop, Bevan Thomas
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like you. They’d’ve loved you in the Confederation Guard. A lot more than that Aviatrix. She’s not even a real Islander.”
I watch the sunlight sparkle on the distant waves. “She’s not here most of the year. They keep her busy with the rest of the Guard doing public appearances across Canada. I hear they spend most of their time in Ottawa.”
“Would’ve been a great opportunity for you.”
“Tell that to Calvin Gallant.”
Lennie was quiet for a long time. We watch the sea, lost in our own thoughts, until I break the silence.
“We’ve been here,” I murmur, “since… what? 1786? What year did Prospere Doucette first summon the Ship of Fire?”
“1758. When the British began deporting the Acadians from Prince Edward Island. It was called Isle Saint-Jean back then. Papa told me once that Prospere swore the British would never keep him from his home.” Lennie glances over at me. “You know. Back when thirteen was plenty old enough for a person to start a career at sea.”
“1758,” I repeat, fixing the date in my mind. I need to remember my own history. “They didn’t know the word metahuman back then.”
“Doesn’t seem to me we are,” Lennie replies. “We never had no mutagens or lab accidents or space debris transforming us into something we weren’t before. We are what we’ve always been: a local family with a duty to protect.”
Somehow, heading out into a screaming nor’easter aboard a preternatural ship that burns without being consumed seems a bit above and beyond any ordinary call of duty; and then I’m immediately ashamed of the thought. How many desperate sailors have we Doucettes led to safety over the centuries, or plucked from the waves, or rescued from pirates? How many invaders have we driven away? How many hundreds of lives did my ancestor Mathieu save during the Yankee Gale of 1851?
They forget us, once we’ve brought them to shore. I don’t know why. It’s a thankless job, and sometimes I feel bitter about that. Yet somehow I feel it’s important for it to stay that way.
“I didn’t want to be the first Doucette in over 250 years to open her big mouth to the mainlanders.” I crack a smile. “Besides, where would I dock a flaming three-masted schooner in Ottawa? I’d probably burn down the city. Can’t imagine the ship would like all that freshwater very much, either.”
Uncle Lennie chuckles. “Can’t imagine she would, at that.”
I lean with my back against the restaurant, realizing there’s a reason why the Avonlea Aviatrix is what she is, and why I am what I am. “It’s not about fame and glory. It’s about… it’s about supporting the local community and keeping my neighbors safe.”
Lennie says quietly, “Sometimes it doesn’t seem fair.” For the first time I wonder what Uncle Lennie might’ve done, who he might’ve become, if he hadn’t been captain of the Phantom Ship before me. He’s been running the Sea Star for as long as I’ve been alive. I’d never considered that maybe, when he was younger, he might’ve wanted to do something else with his life. I look down the street to the front door of the Arcade, where Calvin Gallant and his little sister are eating ice cream cones on the sidewalk, and I realize that I can’t imagine being anything other than what I am.
I put my hand on Uncle Lennie’s, understanding why he stayed, why I’ll stay. “Islanders help each other out. That’s just the way we do things here.”
Red soil stains my fingertips. Out on the ocean, for just an instant, I catch a glimpse of an old-fashioned three-masted schooner. She waits for me, my Phantom Ship, and I know the Island is where I belong.
* * *
Mary Pletsch and Dylan Blacquiere live in New Brunswick, where they share their home with books, comics, and four cats.
Blunt Instruments
Geoff Hart
The voices whisper incessantly in my ears: news of the world, patriotic slogans, occasionally old comedy routines. Sometimes there are the sex
I watch the sunlight sparkle on the distant waves. “She’s not here most of the year. They keep her busy with the rest of the Guard doing public appearances across Canada. I hear they spend most of their time in Ottawa.”
“Would’ve been a great opportunity for you.”
“Tell that to Calvin Gallant.”
Lennie was quiet for a long time. We watch the sea, lost in our own thoughts, until I break the silence.
“We’ve been here,” I murmur, “since… what? 1786? What year did Prospere Doucette first summon the Ship of Fire?”
“1758. When the British began deporting the Acadians from Prince Edward Island. It was called Isle Saint-Jean back then. Papa told me once that Prospere swore the British would never keep him from his home.” Lennie glances over at me. “You know. Back when thirteen was plenty old enough for a person to start a career at sea.”
“1758,” I repeat, fixing the date in my mind. I need to remember my own history. “They didn’t know the word metahuman back then.”
“Doesn’t seem to me we are,” Lennie replies. “We never had no mutagens or lab accidents or space debris transforming us into something we weren’t before. We are what we’ve always been: a local family with a duty to protect.”
Somehow, heading out into a screaming nor’easter aboard a preternatural ship that burns without being consumed seems a bit above and beyond any ordinary call of duty; and then I’m immediately ashamed of the thought. How many desperate sailors have we Doucettes led to safety over the centuries, or plucked from the waves, or rescued from pirates? How many invaders have we driven away? How many hundreds of lives did my ancestor Mathieu save during the Yankee Gale of 1851?
They forget us, once we’ve brought them to shore. I don’t know why. It’s a thankless job, and sometimes I feel bitter about that. Yet somehow I feel it’s important for it to stay that way.
“I didn’t want to be the first Doucette in over 250 years to open her big mouth to the mainlanders.” I crack a smile. “Besides, where would I dock a flaming three-masted schooner in Ottawa? I’d probably burn down the city. Can’t imagine the ship would like all that freshwater very much, either.”
Uncle Lennie chuckles. “Can’t imagine she would, at that.”
I lean with my back against the restaurant, realizing there’s a reason why the Avonlea Aviatrix is what she is, and why I am what I am. “It’s not about fame and glory. It’s about… it’s about supporting the local community and keeping my neighbors safe.”
Lennie says quietly, “Sometimes it doesn’t seem fair.” For the first time I wonder what Uncle Lennie might’ve done, who he might’ve become, if he hadn’t been captain of the Phantom Ship before me. He’s been running the Sea Star for as long as I’ve been alive. I’d never considered that maybe, when he was younger, he might’ve wanted to do something else with his life. I look down the street to the front door of the Arcade, where Calvin Gallant and his little sister are eating ice cream cones on the sidewalk, and I realize that I can’t imagine being anything other than what I am.
I put my hand on Uncle Lennie’s, understanding why he stayed, why I’ll stay. “Islanders help each other out. That’s just the way we do things here.”
Red soil stains my fingertips. Out on the ocean, for just an instant, I catch a glimpse of an old-fashioned three-masted schooner. She waits for me, my Phantom Ship, and I know the Island is where I belong.
* * *
Mary Pletsch and Dylan Blacquiere live in New Brunswick, where they share their home with books, comics, and four cats.
Blunt Instruments
Geoff Hart
The voices whisper incessantly in my ears: news of the world, patriotic slogans, occasionally old comedy routines. Sometimes there are the sex
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