—a burning city. Atlanta? He thought he recognized the shattered stubs of buildings—
—row after row of people harnessed somehow into machinery, howling in pain, their bodies…controlling something?—
—darkness and the whine of machines—
“John!”
—a landscape of ashes and burning rain and the smell of death—
“John!”
—fire, everything on fire, as if some monstrous thing was using the planet for a furnace—
“JOHN!”
He could feel himself being drawn into the Futures, felt the edges of his sanity start to unravel with each image, montages of pain and the world ending, everyone and everything dead and gone or worse. It felt as if his blood was boiling and his lungs were on fire, and it was all building up in his head, about to lose it—
“John, stop! Not through me. Not any longer. This is all I can see. You must find another way. Think of another way. Create another way!”
Back in the Now, John felt himself breathe again. All of the Futures cleared, and he felt the madness recede. He took his time, trying to find his center, to get level again. They couldn’t keep ramming their heads against this problem; if they continued, well…it all ended, in one of the ways that Sera had seen. They needed something new, something different that they hadn’t done before. Something that didn’t include them.
There was a blinding flash in John’s mind, and thunder in his ears. And he saw.
The connection broke, and John was back in the apartment with Sera. Vickie was still busy in her workroom, juggling a dozen different tasks at once. He noticed that he was cold; his uniform had soaked through with sweat. Vickie’s giant gray familiar was sitting a short distance away, regarding John and Sera oddly. Once John had taken a moment to compose himself, he let go of Sera’s hands and looked into her eyes.
“You found it,” she breathed. “You found an answer. Tell me!”
“Not an it. But maybe the answer. We need to find someone that was like me, before you and I found each other. A man. A young man who was in the Program. We need to find Zach Marlowe.”
CHAPTER TWO
* * *
Reply Hazy, Try Again
Veronica Giguere and Mercedes Lackey
There was, of course, another problem. We’d gotten Tesla and Marconi out in living “lifeboats,” in the form of Ramona and Rick. But now that they were out…what were we going to actually do with them?
The Metisian craft rocked back and forth as it dove beneath the cloud cover that gave the Atlanta suburbs their perpetual pale gray skies. The airspace surrounding the metropolis had no sign of the gleaming battle Spheres favored by the Thulians. Instead, the destruction corridors cut clear swaths of misery through the I-285 conduit that ringed the city. The circle broken, the population limped along between alien assaults that continued to cripple a city too stubborn to not rebuild.
Trina navigated the ever-busy skies surrounding the airport, her attention focused on the flight path rather than her remaining passengers. The three dozen citizens of Metis who had joined Ramona and Mercurye on the escape ship had listened to Vickie’s detailed instructions regarding the various Peruvian embassies. Given the proximity of the Earth-side site to the picturesque South American country, it had made perfect sense for the Metisians to claim Peruvian citizenship. Passports and a few well-placed calls to others able to manage the situation with the utmost discretion had placed the refugees in several countries, and now the only remaining Metisian brought the ship to land in a relatively deserted area marked by aging train tracks.
Trina sagged against the controls, her orchid hair limp against her forehead and cheeks. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and danced shaking fingers over the holographic display. The viewscreen blinked to show the rest of the landscape, a few broken trees and some woefully neglected shrubbery. A MARTA sign lay in the distance, the metal pocked and warped. Graffiti decorated some of the larger walls, and Ramona recognized a few crude representations of burning Kriegers and cracked Spheres. A warning, or maybe an affirmation that meant the people here wouldn’t go down without a fight, and they knew that their attackers had not won the war.
“These are the coordinates that Victrix sent?” Ramona asked, careful to conceal concern or accusation from her voice. The little Metisian woman had done so much already, and she worried that Trina might not make it to the closest consulate for her own needs. She forced a smile to her face. “Seems pretty out of the way.”
Mercurye didn’t hide his emotions so easily. It couldn’t have been easy, managing two consciousnesses while running for one’s life from the destruction of the most advanced civilization that any of them had ever seen. Ramona knew that the only reason she had managed to keep hold of her own sanity was her brief yet memorable experience of mind-riding with Nikola Tesla when they invoked the ECHO charter. The fussy scientist had spent several hours wondering when he would be able to leave, whether or not he could trust Ramona to keep him safe without the techno-shaman’s prowess, and if residing in the consciousness of a woman would have any ill effects on his own personality. Rather than argue any of those fits of irrationality, she had simply summoned the memory of Alex Tesla, a walk-in refrigerator, a strong right hook, and a bag of Tater Tots.
The resulting quiet had provided her time to think about what had happened at Metis, as well as go through the reports that she could access via Overwatch. It wasn’t pleasure reading, but Ramona needed to know where they stood and what would happen next, even if she couldn’t be there with the rest of the ECHO core.
The handsome speedster sat cross-legged in the center of the floor, his eyes wide as he stared out the viewport, his lips moving in silent speech. Long scratches covered his exposed skin, metahuman metabolism already having healed the smallest of cuts and scrapes. His upturned hands trembled atop his knees. Ramona guessed that Marconi had not found any measure of peace in sharing headspace, and that the soundless words came courtesy of an hours-long conversation between the host and the hastily invited guest.
“Mercurye?” He didn’t respond to his callsign. She repeated his name, but he remained transfixed on the wide window that overlooked the forgotten MARTA station. Perhaps his civilian name would do it. “Rick? Hey, Rick. We landed, it’s time to head out. Want a hand up?”
She extended a metal-scarred hand to him, palm up. Rick Poitier looked at it, seeming to study the seams where metal met flesh. His gaze traveled up her wrist and arm, finally meeting her face. She smiled, and he swallowed hard. “We ran. Ran away. We ran away from the rest of them, Ramona.”
Guilt. Oh, this was something with which she was all too familiar. Ramona crouched down, one knee against the floor and her fingers lightly brushing the fabric over his calf. “We did what Victrix told us to do. We got Misters Marconi and Tesla out safely, and we made it back. We ran because those were the orders that we got.”
“But we ran,” he repeated. His body began to shake, and Ramona shifted to kneel behind him. She wrapped her arms around the speedster, knowing that her newfound mass and strength would be able to withstand the veritable buzz of his tremors. Given all that had happened, it would be ridiculous to think that they would avoid some kind of shock or trauma.
“They’re safe because we ran,” Ramona reassured him. She glanced up at Trina, who had slid to the floor and now sat with her knees drawn to her chest. “She’s safe because we ran. All of those people who got placed, they’re safe because we ran.”
“But not everyone got out. You never saw the whole city. The laboratories, the museums, the oratoriums…” The young woman’s eyes filled with tears and she dropped her forehead to rest against her knees. Her pristine white jumpsuit had rips streaked with blood and soot, and tears soon wet the stained fabric.
Ramona waited for another outburst, but Trina didn’t have the energy to do more than weep. Stretching an arm out, Ramona motioned for the much smaller pilot to join them. Trina fell
into a grateful heap against her shoulder and sobbed into the nanoweave.
I am not the voice of solace. Snark and sarcasm, sure, but I’m not the sensitive type. Ramona shifted to accommodate both of her charges and tried to think of what Bella would do in this kind of situation. As she struggled to find the right words, she felt the other consciousness steady itself in something she could best describe as resolve.
“There are times when escape is the wisest course of action.” Tesla’s crisp tone echoed in the space between her eyes, as if their conversation was a bit too close for comfort. She didn’t think that anyone else would be able to hear him and opened her mouth to say as much, but Marconi’s lilting tone answered her as if he sat next to Mercurye.
“True, true. When the resources no longer exist, staying for one’s pride becomes an exercise in foolishness. Signorina Ferrari is, again, correct in her assessment.” Although Ramona could not longer see the man’s blueframe countenance, she could imagine the genteel incline of his head toward her.
Curiosity got the better of her. “Victrix, I can hear them both. Can you?”
The mage’s voice croaked a reply. “I can. Anyone else on Overwatch can, but it will go through your frequency since we can’t put a subvocal device on them.” A pause, something that Ramona figured to be a yawn. “I could try to make something happen, perhaps—”
“No. You’ve done more than enough, Vic. Get some rest, have Bella spell you for a few hours.” Ramona glanced to Trina. The poor thing had fallen asleep against her shoulder, tears still wet on her cheeks. “Any objection to our pilot staying with us for a while to rest? We’ve got a good parking spot.”
“No objection. Maps are accessible in your heads-up. Make sure that she leaves in twelve hours. The consulate is expecting her by the end of the day. If she’s not there, they’ll start asking questions and I’m running out of answers. Oh, and ask her to get me a stash of those Metisian memory tiles; I’ll see if I can replicate them somehow to give the Odd Couple a new home. Have her leave them in the bunker.”
Ramona bobbed her head, an instinctive reaction. “All right. I know you can find us if we head off the map, so we’ll keep it quiet.” She patted Mercurye on the shoulder and placed a hand on his elbow. “Come on. Time to move so we can get some rest. You’re coming too,” she said to Trina. “No one’s staying behind.”
It took her a bit more effort than she expected, but she managed to coax them both to a standing position and convince Trina that a cloaked Metisian saucer would not be found in the wilds of East Lake. With the map and passcodes in her heads-up display, Ramona led them down a small path and toward an access tunnel marked for a train line that was never built.
Long before the Thulians had arrived by overnight express all over the world, ECHO had prepared for a time when its metahumans and civilian operatives might need to find shelter away from its headquarters. Ramona led the pair between two concrete viaducts that had carried the trains on the East-West route. She shuddered as pinpricks of metal rose up over her skin. Summoning the courage to take the subway would take a while, and just looking at the tracks made her queasy. She lowered her head and tightened her grip, eyes focused on the ground. The HUD showed her the way, taking them down a strip of metal and concrete that ended at a rusted metal door.
The overlay flickered to superimpose a keypad in a red outline at eye level. Next to it, an “e” etched in the metal and bounded by a square caught the edges of the light. Ramona wrinkled her nose and waited for the HUD to give her an answer. Instead, the answer came from next to her.
“Try two-seven-one-eight-two-eight.” Mercurye flicked a finger toward the scratched “e.” “If it’s asking you for a code, try that.”
Stunned, Ramona entered in the numbers. The grid went from red to yellow, but the door didn’t open. “I don’t think it worked. I still see the entry.”
“If you can still see it, that’s a good thing.” He screwed his eyes shut, forehead furrowed in concentration. “Next is one-zero-eight-one-zero-nine.”
She had no idea where he was getting these numbers, but she jabbed at the air against the holographic keypad. Yellow became green, but the door didn’t open. “I don’t think it’s opening.”
“Two more,” he answered. “Uh, type in six-six-two-six-one-zero-three-four.”
The keypad glowed blue. “And now?”
Mercurye managed to smile at her in spite of his exhaustion. “Zero.”
Ramona sensed a strange surge of approval from the other consciousness as she jabbed the bottom of the hologram. The grid disappeared, and concrete blocks to the left of the door shifted just enough to reveal a dimly lit hallway. Ramona sighed with relief and shifted her arm around Trina’s waist. “That’s a hell of a code.”
He shrugged. “Physics.”
She didn’t know what to make of that, but she didn’t have the energy to ask. With the promise of shelter and a few hours’ sleep, Ramona decided that questions could wait for later.
* * *
Trina took off after eight hours of sleep and a protein bar. She assured Ramona that she would be able to find the Peruvian embassy and make contact with the appropriate people. She asked several times if the other two wanted to come with her somewhere safe, but Ramona maintained that she and Mercurye needed to stay put, per standing orders. Trina had offered them both tearful goodbyes, and then it was just the two of them in the secure bunker.
Two plus two, Ramona thought as Tesla’s jumbled emotions rattled around between her own concerns and considerations. She stretched out on a cot and laced her fingers behind her head. If she relaxed herself physically, maybe that would get the fussy scientist to stop pacing through her brainspace. “You’re safe, sir. You too, Mr. Marconi. Neither of us are going anywhere until we get official word from ECHO.”
“But they could come back.” Mercurye held his head in both hands, fingertips massaging his temples. With time to rest, the two consciousnesses had not stopped in their concern regarding their futures. Ramona had tuned them out, but Mercurye hadn’t managed that much. “They destroyed Metis, they could find us no problem.”
“Your young beau makes an excellent point,” Marconi chimed in via her Overwatch rig. “We underestimated them, and they have reduced a shining beacon of scientific innovation to a mound of ash. What is to keep them from doing the same wherever we go?”
“More importantly, what will keep them from finding either of you?” Tesla’s voice grated on her nerves. She did not need a cantankerous academic echoing her own self-doubts. “If you succumb to them, we are lost. Every moment we remain with the pair of you, we risk death or possible absorption into your own selves.”
She made a face, doing her best to project frustration at Tesla’s consciousness. “Miss Victrix is a well-trained techno-shaman who has taken every precaution thus far to ensure your safety. I’m pretty sure that she’s not going to move you until she’s certain there is a secure location for all of your blue-wireframe antics.” She chuckled as she felt Tesla’s annoyance ripple over her own thoughts. “For now, we are sticking to ECHO protocol and remaining here.”
Mercurye sagged a little more, his head swaying from side to side. “For how long?”
“For as long as necessary.” Eyes closed, she wiggled free of her shoes and pointed her toes. “At the very least, we stay here until the higher-ups find a solution. Take a nap, enjoy the quiet. All we can do is wait.”
Ramona let out an enormous yawn that ended with a satisfying crack. She had every intent to take her own advice and tune out Mr. Tesla’s worried murmuring. For a few minutes, she enjoyed the silence in the stone bunker. The air had a cool damp quality that lent itself to a good snooze, and her body had yet to fully recover from the battle in Metis. She inhaled deeply and felt her muscles start to sag against the reinforced mesh of the cot.
Something crashed into a wall and Marconi yelped in a very undignified manner. She cracked open an eye to see Mercurye with his fist in the cen
ter of a small impact crater in the concrete. Blood trickled over his knuckles, his teeth clenched in frustration. The speedster had not otherwise moved from his cross-legged seat. He glared at her, his nostrils flaring with each breath. “No. I’m done waiting. I’ve been waiting on ECHO for too long, and I’m not going to wait here while somebody with a computer and a fancy title decides when it’s good enough for me to leave!”
Ramona sighed and swung her legs around. She could feel the chill concrete through her socks. “Rick, come over and sit with me. It’s ECHO-issue, I think it’ll hold the both of us.”
He narrowed his eyes, fist still locked against the wall. Blood mingled with the rest of the stains on his dirty gray pants. He forced the words out through clenched teeth. “If I get up from here, I’m walking out that door, Ramona. I’m not staying in another box, especially if I have to listen to some scared old man muttering in my ear day and night. I’m tired of waiting.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. If Rick was looking for some measure of coddling or sympathy, they should have kept Trina for a little while longer. “That makes two of us. I’m pretty sure that punching walls and making empty threats isn’t going to hurry things up, though. Most of the strategists and decision-makers were there in Metis. They fought alongside the Metisians, worked to evacuate them to Earth, and gave everything they could to try and take down the Thulians.”
“So why aren’t we with them?”
“Because we’re temporary hosts for the two most important entities rescued from Metis! That scared old man who keeps muttering in your ear and the fussy perfectionist who keeps grumbling at me might be the difference in us beating back the Thulians when they decide to try and finish what they started!” She leaned forward, her voice only a few decibels short of a full-fledged yell. “Because the rest of them trust us to keep them safe for as long as possible, until they’re certain they have a better solution for them, and deep down, you know that.”
Avalanche: Book Five in the Secret World Chronicle Page 5
