Chapter Fifteen:
When Push Comes To Shove
Mercedes Lackey, Steve Libbey and Cody Martin
“…so I’m not exactly persona non grata, but I am also not the most welcome face at Echo right now,” Belladonna shrugged.
“For doing what needed to be done?” Saviour snorted. “This is sounding familiar to me.”
Bella kept any comments to herself. “Well, they can’t fire me, not when they’re sending out recruiters to pull in petty metacriminals and giving them a chance to reform, redeem themselves, and join the happy family. We’re stuck with each other.”
Bella was loitering here for a reason, hoping to be able to bring up the subject of John Murdock. She’d been visited by the enigmatic Seraphym twice now since the man had dragged himself to the CCCP headquarters. Both times Seraphym had made it emphatically clear that John was somehow important, that he was in danger still…and that he needed to be with CCCP. Why? Well, angels weren’t prone to giving reasons. And you know, you just don’t march up to one and demand an explanation either. Well, Saviour might, but…
A man’s gruff voice interrupted. “So, where’s the chow hall in this joint? Hospital food ain’t my normal board.”
Well, speak of the devil, just the subject I wanted to bring up. Bella looked up to see Murdock standing in the doorframe. He looked groggy, clutching bandages at his side and rubbing sand out of his eyes. “Anyone there? I heard talkin’.”
“We are in meeting. You are leaving room now.” Red Saviour’s tone was dismissive, and brooked no dissent.
“Thanks for the hospitality, but I’m not really feelin’ up to taking orders. Didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”
“Commissar, I asked him to talk to you. Murdock, a little respect for the Commissar, if you please.” Bella tried to radiate calm, the way Jadwiga did.
Red Saviour shrugged and fastened a glare on Murdock. “Very well, you are talking to me.”
He shrugged as well, still holding his side. “Well, chow hall seems to be out of the question. With your leave, I’d like to get my stuff and scoot, unless there’s any more business for me here.”
Bella cast her eyes up to the ceiling. “Give me strength,” she muttered. She turned towards Saviour, her expression now one of respectful conciliation. “Commissar, with all due respect…you’re undermanned here and the only ‘trusty native guide’ you have is me. And I belong to Echo. I suggest you consider offering Murdock a place here, with the CCCP, as an ally at least. Someone with eyes on the street.” There was a faint look of distaste on Murdock’s face when she mentioned Echo. Good.
Then Bella turned to Murdock. She raised one eyebrow. “You think like these people. You have a lot in common. I suggest you consider hooking up here. Take advantage of common goals.”
John looked plainly skeptical, but held his tongue. Red Saviour’s face took on the identical expression. She folded her arms and scowled deeper.
“You ask me for very much trust, Comrade Bella. CCCP is Russian organization, led by Russian, for Russians. And Moscow has promised me sturdy Russian backup as soon as paperwork clears”—she waved a hand in the air—“which, I am admitting, could be next year.”
“Which means you need people now, Saviour. Especially given what we have just been discussing.” Bella’s expression turned grim. “Neither you nor I think that the frickin’ Space Nazis got scared and ran away. Three pop-ups say otherwise.” And I haven’t told you everything yet…
“Da. The lessons of Great Patriotic War are not so quickly forgotten in my country as they are here. This is why all-powerful Supernaut force guards Mother Russia.” She snorted in contempt. “Meanwhile, I am running nekulturny soup kitchen for homeless capitalists.” The Commissar leaned forward. “Comrade Murdock. What can you offer me to justify my trust? I am wanting to hear from your mouth, not blue girl’s.”
“Largely depends, for starters, on whatcha need, and second, what you folks can provide for me and mine.”
“Yours? You are having family? No pets, no childrens, that is rule.”
“No family; folks died in this last attack, as far as I know. I’m watching a neighborhood that’s sorta isolated from the rest of the city. If I’m gonna sign on with y’all, I’m gonna need assurances that they won’t be left out in the cold.”
“You walked here; it can’t be that far. Whose store centers it?” Bella, having worked with the Hog Farmers, knew most of the cut-off areas like the back of her hand.
“The one at the corner of Elm and Lee. Run by an old fella named Jonas. He’s been the one that’s been helping me organize the neighborhood, get folks working together to pull through this mess.”
Bella turned to the map pinned on the office wall and tapped her finger on an area that had been outlined in pale pink marker. “Here, Saviour. That one of yours?”
“I have made overtures to locals, but I am, as you say, small staffed. I cannot send Chug out to do, er, sane human being’s work. He frightens children.” Red Saviour pursed her lips. “He frightens armies, too. But let us ask him in person. Chug!” Her shout made the room jump. “Davay, davay!”
As if he had been eavesdropping, the stony creature lumbered into the room, brushing both shoulders against the doorframe. “Hullo, Commissar.”
Red Saviour snapped her fingers at him as if she were summoning a dog to her side. In Russian, she said, “This American is interested in staying with us. Do you like him?”
Chug fidgeted. “I dunno.”
“Take a long look at him,” she continued. “Do you think he could be your friend? Perhaps join you at the park for a stroll with the squirrels?”
“I like the squirrels,” Chug said, perking up. “I think they would like him, too.”
“Aha.” Red Saviour switched to English. “You have passed the squirrel test, comrade. Do not ask what that means. I want you to brief me on situation in College Park.”
John scratched his head, sighing. He walked in front of the map, making a V with his fingers around the pin Bella had placed in it. “The Park got cut off from the surrounding area by two destruction corridors that followed a couple of roads on the periphery. Power is still out in about a quarter of it, so folks have jury-rigged it or have generators going. Clean water is being brought in where city water ain’t workin’, and some of the hydrants still work, but it’s a hassle. There’s a community garden that we’ve started up, but it’ll take some time before it produces even a percentage of what folks need, and there are a couple dozen lawn gardens. We got the street toughs wrangled into protecting most of those. Everything else is being given on good faith by the stores in the area, by what Hog Farm is bringing in, or what’s been scavenged. It’s in bad shape, but the folks are making do as best they can with what they have.” He turned back to face Saviour. “Crime isn’t a real problem, but it won’t stay that way.”
“No incursions by the Rebs?” A slow, devious smile had begun to spread on Red Saviour’s face.
“None so far. Small-time crap by local thugs looking to take advantage…and a few high-paid outsiders. Anybody that’s caused trouble hasn’t lasted long enough to keep on causin’ trouble.”
Red Saviour stepped up to the map. She traced a line from the destruction corridors to Echo headquarters, then to her own. “I am sensing power vacuum. Reb activity in our district has escalated in last two weeks, with more extortings and hate attackings. This, I am thinking, is being prelude to push into new territory. Right in backyard of Echo but they are doing nothing because Rebs are not metahuman.”
“Scum are scum, but Echo has their set of priorities. Poor folks don’t necessarily rate all that high.”
She nodded. “We can prepare them for siege. People’s Blade is knowing these streets well enough. Perhaps you will show me yours?”
“That’s workable. Do ya really think that the Rebs would push towards my neighborhood that soon? What kinda numbers are we talking about?”
“I believe Americans are capable of all manners of idiocy, at all scales.” At that moment, Red Saviour looked just like a frowny, crotchety old man. “Our best guess, two hundred foot soldiers.”
John shook his head. “Way outta my league, especially if they’re armed the way rumors paint them to be. So, what’s the deal? I show ya the situation, and we go from there?”
“You show me situation, da. Then I decide what we shall do, and then we are executing plan.” She rolled her eyes. “I am sure I am receiving many advices from American comrades.”
“You can cut down on how much unsolicited interference you get by deciding now on who you talk to, Commissar,” Bella pointed out.
“Shto? I am not understanding you.”
“You can say ‘I only interface via blue girl’ and make it stick. That controls what they can get out of you and I control what you get out of them, including grief. You take Murdock here for your community interface; Murdock, you do the same. They never get a chance to try and pull anything out of you, because he’s your face-man.”
Red Saviour barked out a laugh. “And I thought Americans were simple-minded. This is being as convoluted as Moscow bureaucracy. Is first time I have felt at home in overheated hellhole.” She reached into her pocket for a Proletarskie cigarette and lit up. Great, pungent clouds of tobacco smoke wafted to the ceiling. “This is plan I can follow. Comrade Murdock, does it meet with your approval?”
“Ain’t any harm in it, so far as I can see. It’ll work.” He didn’t sound completely convinced, but appeared willing enough to go along and agree for the moment.
“Can we go to the park now?” Chug, forgotten until this moment, spoke up in Russian.
Bella’s face softened; she looked almost angelic. “I’ll take you, Chug,” she replied in the same language. “The nice man is hurt and needs to lie down. Later today, I promise.”
“Nyet, I forbid it.” Red Saviour brushed Bella’s offer aside with a wave of her cigarette. “He is no dog to walk around in grass. Chug can lift city bus—then eat it. Let Soviette accompany him.”
If Saviour intended to offend her, she didn’t succeed; Bella laughed. “And who do you think Jadwiga’s had in charge of him for the last four days? I’m only a medic, I can’t do surgery or prescribe. I haven’t taken him as far as the park yet, but he’s been doing a helluva job on urban renewal at my direction.”
“I am fearing babysitting bill from Echo. Are you not having job? But very well.” The Commissar’s harsh expression mellowed. “And spasibo.”
Bella kept her grin strictly internal. As she had suspected, Saviour had a soft spot for the strange, childlike creature. There was a story there…one day, she’d get it out of Jadwiga. “No babysitting bill, and no, I am still doing my Echo shifts. But since the invasion I only seem to need about three hours of sleep in twenty-four. What am I supposed to do, play video games?”
John interrupted. “Well, this has been enlightening, but I figure that I’m going to go pass out again for a while. Better on a hospital bed than the floor.” He nodded to Chug. “Nice meeting ya…Chug’s his name, right? Right. Wake me up when we’re headin’ out to survey the neighborhood.” With that he shambled back toward the infirmary.
Bella withdrew and put in a call to Vickie. It was short but sweet. “All right. All the ducks are in a row. Send that email, then get down here. The only way she’ll believe it, and respect us, is if we are right here to deal with her when she gets it.”
* * *
There were few places Red Saviour could escape the cacophony of Hensel’s construction workers. Hammering, bricks crashing down, the scream of steel being cut, and men shouting orders and retorts. The union men had made themselves at home in the CCCP headquarters. Some gave her and her comrades curious looks, as if they were the interlopers. The noise upset Chug in particular, who had curled himself into a nook in the basement like a hibernating bear.
Red Saviour had no such luxury. Matters had to be conducted. And besides, she was about to do some shouting herself. That intruding little capitalist sorcerer girl had sent her an email that made her blood boil. And now Red Saviour Senior was about to get it in the teeth. She growled as she accessed the secure voice connection to Moscow.
“No kindly greetings for your father, my Wolfling? Would you like to hear about my new girlfriend? You’d like her: she collects pistols.” Nikolai Shostakovich took on the usual bantering tone that he knew infuriated his daughter.
“I don’t care if you are dating the Premier’s concubine herself. You have lied to me.” Natalya had started out loud and ended in a shout. It was a good thing this conversation was in Russian, otherwise people in Peachtree Square would be talking about it in fifteen minutes.
She could almost hear his expansive shrug. “It is a politician’s job to lie. What lie in particular bothers you?”
“This packet you sent me. It is full of nonsense culled from a child’s primer on the Great Patriotic War. Did you think I paid no attention in school?”
“You were more interested in fisticuffs. But I thought the refresher would be helpful. You have much on your plate.”
“Don’t patronize me. You and Uncle Boryets have your tricks and I see through them: unload a ream of useless information so that I will lose interest in the matter and busy myself with petty thieves. Meanwhile, I am getting better intelligence from nekulturny models and the heir to Rasputin!”
There was a surprised pause. When her father resumed, his voice was not so smooth, not so controlled. “You…have something to do with a sorcerer?”
“As little as possible, but apparently she is more useful to me than my own flesh and blood. What do you know about the death of Hitler? What do you know about the way the Nazi metas disappeared? What do you really know about the Thule Society?”
“I know what you know. Hitler put a bullet into his head.”
“Then I know that you are a liar.” There. It was out. The first time she had ever dared say that to her father’s face. She felt a fire burning deep in her gut and had to clamp down her powers as her fists flared briefly.
Yet Nikolai didn’t rise to the challenge. In fact, he spoke in slow, kindly tones: “Something is upsetting you. Perhaps we should discuss this another time.”
“Don’t you dare end this call until you have told me the truth.”
Nikolai sighed. “It’s ancient history. Let it be.”
“Swastikas trampled through Red Square. That wasn’t ancient. What are you withholding, Papa? Why?”
“It was good to talk to you, Natalya.” He let the statement hang, the implication obvious. “I’m leaving the office now.” The line went dead.
Natalya looked down at the computer screen. The cursor blinked at the end of the line, an email to the secure account that the magician should in no way have had access to. That she could…told Saviour that she was going to be even more useful than the Russian had thought. But the contents…
Thule Society infiltrated Nazi metas circa 1942 and probably directed the course of the war from that point. Hitler assassinated by Ubermensch, witnessed by Himmler. Source: Rheinhold Karl Fritz, former SS commander, also known in occult circles as “Black Flame,” secretly a member of Himmler’s inner circle of occultists in opposition to the Thulians. According to Fritz, Red Saviour was not only aware of this, but enabled the assassination, as coordinated by Himmler. Fritz suggests Ubermensch then removed Himmler and brought in a Thulian psionicist to orchestrate suicides and wipe memories. My further intel suggests this has relevance to the current incursion.
Minutes passed, as weighty as hours, but her father did not call back. She tried to envision how her father, always a devoted patriot, could be party to any intrigue involving his dire enemies, the enemies of her people, but the concept was too appalling and abstract. Natalya had always thought of Nazi Germany as a monolithic monster, united in hateful purpose. How could Hitler’s own followers turn so dramatically against him at such a crucial time? This was as if FDR had been cut down by Yankee Doodle. Or the Emperor of Japan by Divine Wind.
The sorcerer feared Red Saviour, this she knew. Could she be attempting to undermine the solidarity of the CCCP by driving a wedge to divide its very heart in two?
She glared at the phone. “Come on, old man. Don’t make me wait.”
“NAT!” The bellow was not from the person she wanted to speak to right now.
“Go away! I am working.”
“This won’t wait.” The blue girl marched into Natalya’s office with that very sorcerer in tow. The sorcerer did not look happy to be there.
“You!” Red Saviour leapt to her feet, eliciting a satisfying cringe from Vickie. “Not satisfied to slander my father by email? Now you trespass in my headquarters?”
The girl was clutching a sheaf of papers to her chest; she closed her eyes and thrust them at Saviour.
“Oh, now you make your accusations with paper. My father is hero of Soviet Union—the Motherland. You have very much nerve to claim he colluded with Nazis.”
“He stopped the war,” Vickie squeaked.
“The Russian people stopped the war…with help from some allies. Wars are fought by nations, not by individuals.”
“No, he stopped the war right then. Before Hitler could use his A-bomb on Moscow.” Vickie’s eyes were still squeezed shut. And she said something in Russian that could only have been a direct quote from her father. It had all the right phrasing, all the right nuances.
And the right pragmatic feeling to it. “Esli ti vibiraesh mezdu adom ili diavolom, diavol—luchshii vibor.”
When you face hell or the devil, the devil is a better option.
Red Saviour gawked at her. “Where did you learn these things?”
The papers in Vickie’s hand shook so hard they rattled. “It’s in there. My secret sources. Occultists, magicians, on both sides of the former Iron Curtain. It never was more than a Paper Curtain for us. But…as Fritz said, it all seemed to be ancient history, hardly worth believing, not worth talking about…until swastikas poured out of the sky. And he already told all this to Echo, who patted him on the head and told him to go away.”
Natalya took the papers from Vickie’s hands and set them on her desk. “I’ll read them later.”
“Echo’s been holding out on you, Nat,” said Bella. “Vickie’s dug up a lot. It’s not just Red Saviour Senior who’s been keeping you in the dark. And, oh, it gets better, Nat.” Natalya could not help but see that Bella was not at all intimidated by Saviour’s fuming anger. “And I will bet a cookie that rat bastard Tesla has not bothered to tell you this part.”
“Shto?” Saviour’s eyes glittered. “There is more than my father allying himself with Nazis?”
“Da, and this is as recent as the headlines. Show her, Vic.”
The sorceress shoved more papers at her. Photographs of someone taking the armor off one of the troopers. Natalya’s eyes widened, and her jaw dropped a little.
“This is—shopping photos, surely—”
Bella snarled. “No. It’s real. About a third of those damn goose-stepping bastards are, were, aliens. As in, yes, not from this world. I know. I saw them. Without the suits. At Groom Lake. I just didn’t have the proof to show you.” Her lips twisted. “That would be why they tried to retrieve every suit and body they could and attempted to incinerate the rest. Now put that together with the Thulians infesting the Nazis in 1942 and what do you get? Explains the house painter’s A-bomb very nicely, doesn’t it? And it also explains fricking spaceships full of Schutzstaffle.”
With a practiced motion, Red Saviour extracted a cigarette from her pocket and lit up. She took several long pulls on the foul-smelling import, eyes closed, letting the information sink in. She had seen many bizarre, inexplicable things in her life, enough to eschew paranoiac explanations over common sense. Yet her father’s evasive behavior on the phone kept her skepticism at bay. The last exhalation was a smoke ring. At last she met both Americans’ eyes.
“Let us say that I believe what you have uncovered is being true…just for the moment. Why would you share this with me? Surely you are compromising classified information. Does Tesla excite so little loyalty in his employees?”
“My loyalty is to the human race. Which I happen to want to see survive.” Bella’s eyes actually glowed a little. “Politics and borders be damned. If FDR and Churchill could crawl into bed with that monster Stalin for the same reason, I can sure as hell leak what needs to be leaked to our allies.”
Red Saviour felt her stomach churn with outrage. “Stalin? Be careful which lines you are crossing, girl.”
Bella gave Vickie a significant look. “About that job. We need to see Tesla now, in the next hour or two at minimum. And we need to get into his appointment calendar without going through his secretary.”
Vickie ducked her head. “Right. Uh…Commissar? Do you want to watch over my shoulder? It could take…a while. Half an hour, maybe. My laptop and stuff are in the medic bay.”
“Nyet. Report to me when you are finished.” The look Saviour shot at her was marginally more friendly. Vickie only hoped that something would happen to turn that I-will-not-kill-you-yet glare into something…less lethal.
The Russian turned to Bella. “Now then, comrade. You were comparing me to Stalin?”
* * *
Telsa was certain that this morning Belladonna and the CCCP virago had not been on his appointment calendar. But suddenly they were in his trailer, crammed between a visit from the FBI liaison and a city planner. With them was a cringing blond girl with her arms full of file folders. She had an Echo uniform, so he didn’t give her more than a curious glance before settling on the two attention-grabbers.
Red Saviour wore what must be her dress uniform: a sharp military cut with epaulets and long gloves, and an anachronistic sickle and hammer emblazoned on her sleeve. She smirked at him as a wolf might at its noontime meal.
“Mr. Tesla. So good of you to see me. I cannot fault Southern hospitality.” Without being invited, she took a seat. “I am being sure you know your employees who accompany me.”
Belladonna grimaced. “For the record, I am an increasingly uncomfortable employee. And right now, you are not gonna like what we have to tell you.”
“I can only imagine,” Tesla said with a sigh. A gloom settled over him, the inevitability of confrontation.
Red Saviour put out a hand, into which Vickie placed a file folder. The Russian opened it, and after a dramatic pause, read out: “The Thulians are not of this world. We are the pawns of impossible creatures who move us on their chessboard with invisible hands. Tesla must know.”
Eisenfaust’s last words to Walter Slycke, retrieved by Belladonna Blue herself. He strove to control his expression. “That’s interesting.”
“What’s interesting,” Bella snapped, “is that you didn’t see fit to share it with the leader of the second largest, non-profit metahuman organization on the continent. In your own back yard. Or this—” She took another file from the blonde and slapped it down in front of him, open. It showed an autopsy of one of the aliens extricated from Thule trooper armor. “Or this!” Another file, this one dating back to World War II. He didn’t have time for more than a glance before it was the Russian’s turn.
“I’m hurt, comrade. So much to learn from each other, yet you never stopped by for tea.”
“It appears you have no trouble learning my secrets, Commissar. Should I be upset that you subverted two of my own to steal intel?”
Belladonna flushed a dark blue. “Steal? This is something you should have been sharing in the first place! Jeezus Cluny Frog, haven’t you figured out by now that the old rules don’t work anymore?” She waved her hand. “Your HQ is toast, two-thirds of your people are dead, and you have no idea where the goons that did it came from or where they went! They damn near got Slycke before we did, we’ve had three hit squads pop up since, and you can bet your last dime they are going to be back in force!”
Tesla glared at her as she emphasized her tirade with dramatic gestures and made a note to have her fired at once. The last thing he needed was a girl young enough to be his daughter second-guessing what was becoming an increasingly difficult balancing act.
Red Saviour’s eyes turned to cold steel as she watched him squirm. “What about the national intelligence agencies? FBI, NSA, CIA. You are keeping them in dark also?”
“We concluded that this intel was not critical to the current line of investigation to the whereabouts of the Thulian forces. It was the right decision. We didn’t want to cloud the water with paranoid chatter.” He pointed a finger at the blue girl. “Or, for that matter, get the tabloids in an uproar about ET throwing a seig heil at our doorstep. You have a lot of nerve to make that decision for the organization.”
Bella glared. “Does she look like a tabloid reporter? Wake up, Tesla, this is your ally! Unless you want to alienate her altogether, it’s time to play ball. Vic. Lay it on him.”
The blonde cleared her throat nervously. “In 1942, Goering was approached by a—creature—who penetrated into his office without passing his guards or his receptionist.” As she continued her story, Alex felt the hair on the back of his neck standing up. “…and in order to prevent the detonation of an alien-designed atomic weapon in Moscow, Red Saviour Senior colluded with Ubermensch to arrange for the metahuman to assassinate Hitler and his top officials in their bunker. But then Ubermensch disappeared. And so did most of the other Nazi metahumans. My sources say they were mostly subverted by the aliens we know as the Thule Society. Presumably…they went wherever those ships came from.” With a shaking, gloved hand, she put the folder on his desk and looked at the latest Red Saviour, who inclined her head in approval.
Tesla felt his heart sinking as Vickie confirmed what the intelligence agents of Metis had speculated upon for decades.
And in that moment, he realized that he had strayed from the principles on which Echo was founded. Not for the protection of borders, or property, or politics or secret agencies, but rather the protection of people. He had been keeping secrets from the wrong people.
He took a deep breath. “Neu Hyperborea.”
The women all stiffened. He leaned forward, hands spread to show that he was ready to talk.
“We know the name of the Thule capital, though not the location. I have agents working to uncover this information right now. You must understand, though, that it is not a simple matter of find the target and pull the trigger. The forces at work here are far, far more complex.”
“What is being complex about massacres?” Red Saviour snapped at him. “Those who brought death must meet with the same.”
“Shiva is both a creator and a destroyer. When she dances, there’s no telling which way the dance will turn.”
The Americans blinked at him. Red Saviour began to rise from her seat. “You are mocking me, Tesla, and I am not tolerating it. I will tear down the rest of your campus if you are concealing information that will save lives.” Her fists glowed slightly. So did the blue healer’s eyes. And…the little blonde sprouted a golden aura.
Metahumans did not frighten him. Tesla met her angry glare. “You’re in over your head.”
“No wonder you and my father got along so well. You are both chauvinist pigs who think you know better than rest of world.”
“Your father knows you’re unreliable, which is why he palmed you off on us. He expected that you’d amuse yourself with street fights and raids on crack houses. You should stay with what you know.”
“Her father is a reactionary old rat bastard who’s more interested in chasing women than actually thinking about the genie that got out of the bottle!” Belladonna snapped. “For better or worse, this Red Saviour has her priorities right!”
“Da. And this Red Saviour is the one who will be fighting alongside your operatives when next blitzkrieg hits. You cannot choose your allies, comrade. The proletariat must put aside differences to stand together against oppression. If you do not understand that, then you are not worthy of position.”
“Fire in the sky…” the blonde murmured, looking a little dazed. She shook her head. “Sir…you have an angel, a real angel, perched on the top of the Suntrust Tower right this minute. Ask any magician. They’ll tell you. The Seraphym is no metahuman, and no illusion. She’s the real thing. Haven’t you thought once about what that means? And if you don’t believe me, and you won’t believe your own Echo mages—ask Mercurye. Or try, anyway. He disappeared shortly after he talked to her. It’s in my intel.”
Tesla blinked. Who was this woman? She seemed to have the entire Echo database in her head.
Red Saviour’s harsh features softened. “So you see, comrade, this war will go on with or without you. I am willing to be your ally—your friend—if you will extend trust to receive trust. Was it not your own George Washington who said, ‘United we stand, divided we fall?’ ”
“I think that was Benjamin Franklin.…”
“No, Franklin said, ‘We must hang together or surely we will hang separately.’ ” The blonde seemed to have a good history book in her head too.
“Is not mattering. Sentiment is correct.” She offered a hand to Tesla. “My CCCP is wounded, but it is not broken. I will give you everything I am having to give. Let us face common enemy together.” Her eyes blazed with fervor.
Tesla hesitated. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. You may wish you’d stayed with drug dealers and street thugs.”
“Comrade, I survived massacre that now has been named for me. I am afraid of nothing else. What are you afraid of, besides failure?”
He grasped her hand. An uncertain grin spread across his face. “Point taken.” Then he turned to the two Echo operatives. “I’ll have to upgrade both of your clearances… hell, what you’re about to see and hear doesn’t even have a clearance. I don’t think more than three people have ever seen these documents.” He headed for the back wall, and a safe.
But that was when a single tone, like a deep, resonating wind chime, sounded from inside his desk. He froze, then shrugged. “Speak of the devil,” he said to himself, and returned to the desk, which had been shipped via very special courier indeed when he actually had an office again.
He gave the mouse from his computer three fast clicks and drew an “M” with it. Computer and desktop dropped. The Metis communication device rose to take its place. The mouse had read his fingerprint and DNA of course—it wouldn’t do for anyone to be able to get at the device just by an errant mouse click.
Two slender wires extended up, impossibly rigid, with a luminescent aura that stretched between them like slow-motion lightning blasting through the ocean. The crackles resolved into a human face, tanned and handsome and accustomed to petulance. A winged helmet topped blond curls, and the monitor showed the man’s bare shoulders. Mercurye peered into the aether.
“Alex?”
“Right here, and with friends. You can speak freely.”
“I think I recognize the blue chick. Okay, listen. Things are weird here in Metis, and getting weirder by the minute. I gotta tell you, Alex, there are at least a dozen Echo ops better suited to this spy crap than me.”
Tesla couldn’t help but smile. “You can’t always choose your allies. What have you got for me?”
Red Saviour leaned over. “What is this Metis?”
“Hold on, Rick.” Tesla took a deep breath. “Every piece of technology with an Echo stamp originated from Metis—think of it as a family-run business, and we’re the official dba. Metis has been working for world peace behind the scenes since the forties.”
“Guess again, chief.” Mercurye shook his head woefully. “Business ain’t so good.”
“What do you mean?”
Mercurye looked over his shoulder in an overt display of paranoia. “Your uncle’s running interference for me so we can talk, but I have to make it quick, so listen up.” He took a deep breath. “Metis is on the fence with this one. Most of them actually don’t want to get involved. They don’t want a war on their doorstep.”
“War? Is war now?” Red Saviour leaned forward despite Alex’s hand on her arm. “What do you know?”
“I can’t—damn it, there’s no time. Alex, you’re on your own. Don’t talk to anyone here but Nikola, and don’t spill your plans. They won’t help, no matter what I tell them. They won’t help!”
“What about Marconi? Can’t he and Nikola—”
“No good. This place is total Orwell—like some weird soulless utopia for scientists. All they care about is data, and keeping themselves safe.” Mercurye’s eyes glistened. “Christ, I don’t know what to do!”
Alex kept his voice calm. “You’re already doing it. Stay there and lobby for us—”
But Mercurye raised his hand for silence—a hand covered with blood. He glanced around and then back to the screen long enough to make contact, with eyes quivering with fear, fear greater than that of individual death: fear of helplessness.
Then in an inhumanly quick flash, he disappeared offscreen. The background, cement laced with pipework, reestablished itself. In seconds, jumpsuit-clad figures with glowing staves dashed past. Alex cut the connection. He sank back into his chair.
“That didn’t look good,” Belladonna said.
“Excuse me,” Red Saviour said. “I am correct in thinking you mentioned names Marconi and Nikola…Tesla?”
“Yes. They’re alive, but it doesn’t matter.” He buried his face in his hands. Everything he had counted on, everything he had thought was in his back pocket, had just been pulled out from under him. There would be no cavalry coming over the hill. Crushing despair pushed him down in his chair.
He couldn’t handle this. No way. He was just a CEO, for god’s sake! He wasn’t a—a general, he couldn’t see any way out of this but Armageddon. “Without Metis, we’re screwed.”
Red Saviour blew air out her lips. “Pssh. Save whining for old ladies. I am not knowing why this Metis is so important to fight against fashista, but my plans never included them. Is no different now.”
The world was crashing in on him—had been, in fact, since the attack, when he realized that the hidden forces at work had unsheathed their swords. It was the day that he and Metis had feared all along, and yet Metis had decided to withdraw. They were doomed, all of them. Was there any point in dragging this crazed woman down into his personal pit of hopelessness? She would arrive there soon enough on her own. “You don’t understand at all,” he muttered.
“I don’t need to. Is not my job to be hopeless.”
“Nor mine, sir.” Belladonna’s voice possessed a steely grit. “Whatever covert ops you and Metis have been performing to halt this threat doesn’t seem to have worked. The Thulians are still out there, ready to strike again. If Echo has to go down in flames fighting them, then that’s what we do. Fight until we can’t go on.”
Red Saviour nodded. “CCCP is no stranger to sacrifice. Is actually in commission.” She opened her palm as if cradling an invisible manual. “Your people are ready to give up lives, comrade. Are you ready to lead them?”
Alex blinked at her. “You make it sound easy.”
“Dying is no work at all—it finds you. Important thing is what you do before you go down.” She slammed the imaginary book shut. “A good leader makes each soldier’s sacrifice into a building block for victory.” Her lips stretched in a thin smile. “Russians are no strangers to hopeless battles. And yet, we win them.”
“Indeed.” He sighed. A madwoman was giving him advice, and it actually made sense, which meant his situation was worse than he thought.
And yet—they had hope, hope and determination. For the moment at least, that hope was filtering over to him. He stood on uncertain feet. “I suppose you’re right. I was leaning too much on Metis for guidance. I just assumed our interests and theirs had always intersected. I don’t see how any war against an organized, heavily-armed metahuman force can be won without Metis’s assistance—but now I guess we’ll found out.”
“We’ll do it the way outmanned and outgunned people have always done it, Tesla,” Bella said, her eyes blazing blue, her chin up. “Like the Yanks against the Brits in 1776, like the Russians in St. Petersburg against Napoleon, and again in Stalingrad against the Nazis. We’ll fight them hard, and we’ll fight them smart, we’ll make them fight on our ground, and on our terms.”
Alex knew better. He really knew better. And yet, at that moment, their determination, their sureness, swept him off his feet and, like a wave that buoyed him up rather than crashed down on him, seemed to give him strength. If there was a shore to be carried to—then these two, surely, would bring everyone there.
Belladonna looked like that Rosie the Riveter poster, and Saviour like one of the propaganda pieces on the wall of her own CCCP. They made him believe in them. He felt his own spine straightening with resolve.
“Now you are talking, tovarisch,” Red Saviour said, with her own eyes shining. “We win, or we die. Now. Let us be getting all cards on the house.”
“Table,” Bella murmured.
“Table then.” The Russian leaned over Tesla’s desk, and he was reminded again of how tall she was. “Now. Tell me what you have not been telling me before.” There was cold steel in her voice, and iron in her gaze. “Is time to stop running and take the battle to enemy.”