"That's really cool," she observed.
    "You learn to get around with these things. Watch this." The wheelchair folds up to the size of a medium briefcase and fits neatly in back.
    "Wow! You've got to show me how you did that!"
    "I'd like to be able to claim credit for that one, but I can't. How long have you been in the super hero business?"
    "A couple years. Not long. My brother's in it, he kind of got me into it."
    "Ah." He nodded. "My son's kind of picked it up as a career, I suppose there are worse ones."
    "I have fun," she shrugged. "I still go to school and stuff. They wouldn't let me skip calculus class and stuff like that, they think it's important."
    "Calculus is important, you need to learn that sort of thing."
    "I know, but it's not as much fun as some of this other stuff is."
    "You planning on going to college?"
    "I think so."
    "What are you going to major in?"
    "Probably something like forensics or investigative law or something like that."
    "At least it's in the sciences. My son's going to be getting his degree in philosophy and variant studies," he sighed.
    He seemed annoyed by that. Eclipse shrugged, "I'm sorry."

Powerhouse and Scott reached GEMINI Group in record time. The buildings were designed to form the GEMINI symbol from the air. Security guards came running out as they landed, but quickly relaxed.
    "Oh, Powerhouse, it's you."
    "Hello," Scott greeted them.
    "You must be Dr. Scott's son." A man wearing a lab coat and an authoritative air approached. "Dr. Clayton Williams." Introductions went around.
    Powerhouse said, "We understand that you have some kind of project going on here relating to the spectrum emitter? projector? generator? some kind of...."
    "Why don't we come inside and discuss this privately," the doctor suggested. "Well done men, excellent responses," he told the security guards. They headed in to one of the conference rooms; the door whooshed aside and closed behind them. "Dr. Scott called ahead, it seems there was an unfortunate incident, despite the assurances we got from Chicago that Alchemy would be able to handle anything that came up?"
    Powerhouse winced internally at his tone. "In a sense."
    "Do we have any idea who's made off with the device?"
    "Yes, we believe it was Phil Chlora."
    "Hm. Do you have any idea on how you can get this thing back?"
    "Phil's not subtle. He's going to make a grab for whatever else he needs here, if anything. Otherwise, some large vegetative menace will be rampaging around the city in a day or two, generally leads us right to him."
    "So you're saying, Mr. Powerhouse, that your theory is we should let him take this thing so the vegetative monster can come out and 'lead us right to him?'"
    "I'm not saying we shouldn't try to find him, just that even if we don't he'll make himself visible. I only spend 30 days a year here and I've put this guy in jail three, four times."
    "Well, he can't be that dangerous then." Williams smiled thinly.
    Powerhouse shook his head. "I don't know, he seems to have something working for him, by all accounts. To be fair, Phil has a lot of raw power; he has caused considerable property damage and occasional collateral injuries on his..."
    "Escapades?" Williams suggested.
    "Escapades."
    "I think the phrase 'unfettered might of a corrupted ancient phylum' came up once," Scott added helpfully.
    "But you think he's going to need the other half of the spectrum broadcaster?"
    "Well, from what Dr. Small said, one component is all but non-functional without the other."
    "But we have the other component functioning here. The spectrum translator is operational as of now, as soon as we can hook it up to the spectrum broadcaster. I don't understand exactly what good he could do with this, we have it specifically designed so that it can't operate into dangerous wavelengths, he can't emit it as x-rays or something."
    "Well, he can probably provide an endless supply of sunlight to his evil creations," Scott suggested.
    Williams sighed. "I don't know why I keep expecting logic to apply. 'Evil creations?'"
    "Evil plant life, master of," Powerhouse shrugged. "Just shows where you can go if you find your niche."

The others showed up shortly thereafter. Alchemy chain-smoked the whole way. Eclipse learned a lot about engineering, but was disappointed to find that Dr. Scott was not a fan of Nancy Drew (her personal heroine). They gathered in a conference room to plan their next move, confident that Chlora would make an attack soon.
    "Are there botanists on staff here?" Eclipse asked. "'Cause I got a sample of the moss thing that Phil had."
    "I don't think we have any botanists on staff. We have people who dabble," Williams shook his head.
    They got a layout of the grounds, which were fairly extensive and included a lavish hedge maze. The transformer was in a section in the northeast corner of the complex. This was, naturally, the corner of the Gemini sign that was closest to the hedge maze. Powerhouse nodded and Alchemy sighed. Some things, they agreed, were inevitable.
    There was also the question of the Tropical Pair-o-Dice; twilight was coming on, and the gambling boat should be launching soon. Since there was no way anyone would let Eclipse into a bar, she and Scott would stay at GEMINI while Powerhouse and Alchemy headed out in search of seedy company.
    "And watch out for the football-player-like guy, he packs a mean punch," the girl added.
    "Yeah, I know."
    "No, a really mean punch," she emphasized.
    "I know," Alchemy sighed, not particularly looking forward to this. She and Powerhouse headed out to mingle with the crowds, leaving their younger compatriots behind to guard the transformer.

After reaching the boat and staring down the doorman, Alchemy checked out the room while Powerhouse hovered in the vicinity, ready to be of assistance. No games seemed to be running, people were just socializing for the moment, looking out at the vague drizzle and the city lights behind them. She did a slow circuit of the room, and after a half hour reached a conclusion: half of these people were minor-league criminals of varying stripes, though she was pretty sure no one had recognized her, and there was no direct sign of anyone she was looking for. For a moment she thought she saw the woman who had walked up her to her at the airport, outside on the deck.

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