Avalanche: Book Five in the Secret World Chronicle

by Lackey, Mercedes

  They were on the lowest inhabited level in Top Hold—Vickie’s space. You couldn’t call it an “apartment,” it looked more like a squatter’s setup in an abandoned warehouse. Vickie had cleared away her combat practice gear so that the center of the space could have tables set up in a rough square. Card tables, because that was all ECHO could scare up at short notice. Horrid, harsh fluorescent lighting glared down from the ceiling ten feet above the square of tables, leaving the rest of the room in shadow. It smelled of damp concrete, cheap Russian cigarettes, and ozone. In the center of the open space formed by the tables was a tiny Metisian holoprojector.

  Seated at the tables and standing in what little space remained was the combined leadership of the free world—what was left of it, at least. Generals, presidents, prime ministers, congressmen, and so on; they were all here, and more than a few of them still grumbling that they had to leave their aides and security teams outside. There were representatives from the United States, of course, as well as the United Kingdom, Germany, China, Russia, and India. There were more outside, watching via a televised feed, but the big players had all ensured that they had seats at the table first. This was the big “info dump”; after this, everyone would break off and brief their respective national teams, and get the gears turning.

  “In case one of you somehow missed the memo, Vix’s contact inside the Thulian forces gave us the hard location of what is described as ‘the World Ship,’ Our allies Amphitrite and Atlas—who used to be the Mountain—have gotten eyes on the thing, and this is an approximation of what it looks like—”

  The holoprojector lit up with a stretch of open ocean; floating on it were two shapes, shallow half-spheres joined together. Not impressive, until a line labeled “fifteen kilometers” appeared beside them. “This thing has been sitting in the middle of the Bermuda Triangle for…hell, for all I know, since about 1938. It’s been cloaked with Thulian stealth tech. That’s a lot of ocean, so as far as we know nothing ever ran into it, though this may be why shit keeps going missing in that area. Vix, take it from here.”

  Vickie stood up. There was nothing left of the diffident, unobtrusive little mage of only a few months ago. “Before you ask how A and A were able to get ‘eyes’ on this thing when it’s stealthed, they measured it by the displacement area in the ocean, and don’t ask me what the hell that means, she’s a goddess of the sea, and you don’t ask a thousand-foot-tall goddess too many questions. This is where the Thulians are staging everything from. It’s protected by a force field. They can sit out there until the end of the world and chuck stuff at us from there until we fold. They’ve got all the manufacturing capability they need. Amphitrite says they are ‘mining the seawater’ and, according to my source, they have some way to get an endless supply of manpower. The only way we can reach them is to take down the force field from the inside. My contact on the inside is going to open a door for us to insert a small team to do that—but to keep the Thulians from catching on, we need to mount an attack to distract them. Then once the field is down, the fake attack can turn into an invasion of our own.”

  There was a torrent of angry—and yes, frightened—babble at this point. Bella waited them out until the group settled again, and the most aggressive of the lot spoke up.

  It was, inevitably, General Johnston P. Raymond who shook his head and took to his feet. He was the replacement for Arthur Chang, and Bella liked him markedly less than his predecessor. She suspected the P stood for Peckerhead. “Let me see if I got this right,” he snarled. “You’ve got coordinates, a picture, some intel on a possible access point, and on that alone, you want the world to commit all available forces to a full-scale attack on the enemy, hoping that a small infiltration force will take out their main defense.”

  Angry muttering erupted from the assembled representatives, most of them nodding their agreement.

  The Indian representative held up a hand, almost apologetically. “How are we to protect our people, if we are going to pull off the best of our fighting men and women for this attack?” There was a chorus of agreement, and everyone looked to Bella.

  Bella remained surprisingly calm. “And just how are your forces holding up under the current attacks?” she asked simply. “How long can you continue to do so?”

  Natalya was not nearly as diplomatic. “Piss on that. We have been fighting on the front lines of this conflict—for all of you—for years now. Any time a band of nekulturny troopers turns up, you have come crying and begging for us to deal with it. And we have bled for you.” She angrily stamped out her latest cigarette. “The North American HQ? Our man found that information, decoded by ECHO. Ultima Thule? Again, us. Now it is time for you, all of you, to pull your own weight.”

  “As for the infil team…I think you already know of the ones we’ve chosen to be the primary attackers on the force field generator itself.” Bella nodded at the shadows to her right, and Sera and John stepped into the light.

  Another murmur arose from the crowd. Ever since the destruction of Ultima Thule, the governments of the world had been trying to claim John and Sera as their own. Many of the loudest voices for those demands and pleas were sitting at the table now, and Bella could feel the greed, fear and awe pouring off of some of them.

  “Can any of you think of a better spearhead for this assault?” Bella asked. She didn’t give anyone time to respond, or voice their case for why they needed to co-opt the Murdocks…again. “No? Then shut the hell up and sit down; we’re not done yet. Vickie?”

  “We’ve consulted with Amphitrite and Atlas. They will tow our initial attack force into place, on buoyant platforms developed by the Metisians and the Brits that have the same radar and sonar reflectivity as water.” An image appeared of the two giants walking along the seabed, pulling the platforms behind them, like kids with a huge cluster of balloons. “To be honest, since this is more of a show of force than an actual force, this first wave will be mostly metas, with light artillery support. We’ll make a lot of light and noise, but there’s no point in wearing ourselves out until they sortie. And we figure they will. We’re putting Red Saviour in charge of this force.”

  The ripple of shock and surprise at that announcement went through all of the assembled nations as well as the USA. The representative from Russia spoke up over the murmurs, not looking at Natalya. “Given her history within the CCCP, we would strongly suggest you reconsider such an assignment, especially in light of her standing with Prime Minister Batov. Not to mention the recent betrayal by her superior officer, Worker’s Champion.” Bella felt as much as saw Natalya tense, readying herself to launch across the table and probably strangle the man. “We suggest—”

  “There will be no argument on this,” Bella bellowed over the growing outrage. “Red Saviour is the only surviving commander of the Invasion, the attack on the North American base, the attack on Ultima Thule, the attack on Metis, and several direct attacks on CCCP HQ itself. She is the only military commander with enough personal experience with a mixed conventional and meta force to handle this. Bulwark will coordinate our suggestions for the leaders of forces under her, but she is going to have battlefield oversight. Bulwark will take your suggestions under advisement, but only Red Saviour has the long experience in handling the Thulians over the course of this war.”

  Bulwark stood up and made his suggestions. As Bella had suspected, his picks somewhat mollified those who had been objecting. Except for Peckerhead, but…nothing was going to mollify him except being named the battlefield commander. And pigs would fly before that happened.

  “As for Worker’s Champion,” Bella continued into the silence that ensued when Bulwark had finished speaking, “I’ll let Red Saviour speak for herself.”

  The Commissar took a moment to compose herself, lighting another cigarette and taking a quick drag from it. “When Boryets defected to the enemy, it wasn’t just a betrayal for me, or for Mother Russia. It was a betrayal of the world. No, tovarisch, you do not have to be worrying about me.
I will perform my duty, until the last. With any luck, that will include strangling the life out of the svinya myself.”

  “Let me make this perfectly clear, folks,” Bella said. “This is it. This is our shot. We’ve been on the defensive since the beginning, and despite all of our victories, all we’ve really been doing is bleeding, and surviving. Just. We don’t know when we’ll ever get another chance like this. We can end this—now. You’ve seen what they’ve got, the endless armaments and forces they seem to have at their disposal. And yet…no WMDs. I don’t for one second doubt they have them, and I shudder to think what a Thulian WMD could do. Haven’t any of you wondered if they’re just playing with us? If we just keep going like we’ve been doing, it’s only a matter of time before they tire of this, or arrive at whatever goal their sick twisted minds have concocted. They could end us anytime they want. And you all know it. They’ve been batting us around like a cat with a helpless, half-stunned mouse, and we’ve finally got a gun aimed right at their heads. Don’t you think it’s time we pulled the trigger? While we still can?”

  “Trust me,” Vickie added darkly, “it won’t be long before we can’t. You’ve heard rumors of ‘Overwatch’ by now. I am Overwatch, I created the system, I supervise it, and I coordinate it over the entire world, and there is no one who knows what’s going on with the metas of the world as well as I do. We’re losing metas now, a steady drain, and they are not being replaced. The metas we have left are exhausted, and you all know as well as anyone what happens to exhausted fighters. Once the metas start going down faster, your defenses are going to evaporate.”

  Somehow that managed to penetrate as nothing else had. Perhaps because they had all heard of the mysterious “Overwatch,” and her uncanny ability to deploy metas in the nick of time the world over. There were some feeble objections, quickly overcome, but the discussion was fundamentally over.

  As the assembled representatives filed out with their orders, some of them still muttering to themselves, Bella felt a wave of exhaustion and relief fall over her. She turned and gave Bull a weary smile.

  “You were right,” she whispered. “That was exactly the right way to deal with these pig-headed idiots.”

  “I know my kind,” Bull shrugged, and gently patted her back.

  John and Sera waited until the room had finished clearing out before they walked over. “I have to admit, I always wanted to step out of the shadows like that, all mysterious an’ shit.” John sighed, running a gloved hand through his hair. “A lotta unhappy folks just walked out of the room. Especially the military reps. They’re not used to being told ‘no.’”

  “No, they’re not,” Bella agreed, as Bull nodded. “And they are even more unhappy about the simple fact they’ve got no way to grab you. Even though it was supposed to be clandestine, I imagine everyone at the table is aware of how the US Government attempted that and how they ended up with egg on their faces.”

  “All the same, those people have long memories. If’n we can pull this off, things might get particularly interestin’ once we get back.”

  In more ways than one, Bella thought, regarding John and Sera thoughtfully. Although Sera was no longer a Seraphym…there was something a little uncanny and a bit frightening about the two of them when they were together. There was something of the same aura of great power and greater control about both of them that Seraphym had had on her own, and whenever either of them got upset, their eyes started to have a bit of that inhuman golden glow in their depths. I almost liked it better when JM was just a grunt and only the Seraphym was alien and inhuman. Now, well, there are times when the both of them are plunging into the Uncanny Valley.

  Powerful metas had existed…well, as long as anyone had known about metas, period. The ones that were as powerful as John and Sera, however, were all almost universally insane in one way or another. Megalomaniacal, delusional, schizophrenic, bipolar, or even just catatonic: there always seemed to be horrendous psychological consequences for a human being to have that much power. Yet…the Murdocks had been spared that torture. Granted, they had gone through their own sorts of hells to reach the level of power that they now had. But Vickie had cleared them magically, and Bella’s own telempathic scans had turned up nary a stray hair, figuratively speaking, in either of their minds. They were stable; either how they shared the power, or just their connection—their love for each other?—kept them in check, somehow. It still didn’t quiet her fears. Just what would happen when those two came back, without a Thulian menace to confront? What would they do with all of that power?

  Oh god, what am I doing? Here she was, thinking about the Murdocks, her friends, like she was…well, one of those generals that had shuffled out of the room. Calculating, assessing, weighing. Trying to figure out how to use them. She swallowed a lump of guilt. But…on the other hand…I’m a leader. There’s too much at stake. That’s how leaders think. How they have to think, I guess…

  But she didn’t have to like it.

  Natalya was the next to join them. She stalked up to the group, brusque as ever. Once upon a time, she could have had a life as a supermodel, what with her attitude and the way she walks. She was puffing on another cigarette, a cloud of smoke following her.

  “Old scared men do too much talking. If it were being up to them, we would debate color of casket to be buried in while svinya line us up against wall to be shot.” She looked around for somewhere to put out her cigarette. Finding none, she dropped it to the floor and crushed it with the heel of her boot. If she saw Bull’s look of annoyance, she ignored it, and a second later, Herb scuttled up with what looked like a little shovel and a bamboo whisk, brushed up the butt and detritus, and scuttled away again. “I do not have stomach for these…bureaucrats,” she said, spitting out the last word like a curse. “I never have.”

  “I would say that it gets easier with practice, but I would be lying,” Bella said, sighing.

  Nat fished a fresh cigarette out of her mostly empty pack. Murdock snapped his fingers and produced a lighter-sized flame. Nat initially flinched, then leaned forward to light the cigarette. At least I’m not the only one that’s still a little weirded out by the walking, talking nukes in the room. She turned to Bull, blowing out a cloud of smoke sideways. “I am surprised, tovarisch, that you chose to nominate me to lead the assault. I was being tempted to say something during the meeting, but decided it was wiser to present, how do you say…united front?”

  “I think it’s safe to say we don’t always see eye to eye on things, Commissar Saviour,” Bull said. “But the facts are the facts. You are the most experienced field commander we have, and despite our differences, the one I would trust most to lead us in this fight.”

  “I still wonder how the coalition will respond. To be mixing command structures…is difficult obstacle, even with a witch and her robotnik helping.”

  “They’re still soldiers,” Bull rumbled. “And soldiers know how to follow the chain of command. Each group has its own commander, but you have final say. We make sure the commanders know that, and their forces will fall in line.”

  “After everythin’ that’s happened these past couple of years, you’ve got more clout than you realize, Commissar,” John interjected. “We’ve had mixed forces before. Nothin’ on this scale, perhaps, but still… Folks remember Ultima Thule, an’ the North American HQ assault. Performance counts for a lot with ground pounders.”

  “And bear in mind,” Vickie said, still at her place at the table, “that no plan survives first contact with the enemy. Not intact at least.” She waved at the seats. “This is the point where I tell you what Eight and I have figured out is the infil team’s best composition, what we do, and how we get there. You ready to yell at me?”

  “I think I’ve reached my yelling quota for the year,” Bull said. “I’ve got a low growl reputation to uphold, after all.”

  “Did Comrade Bulwark just make joke?” Natalya asked.

  “Something we’re working on,” Bella shrugged.
“He needs some practice is all.”

  Vickie nodded as they came back to their seats, this time at the table where she had set up. Herb had already moved the holoprojector to the center. “All right. First off, the infil team will be coming in via unpowered submarine. As Atlas and Amphitrite tow the assault force into place, Atlas will also be carrying the submersible. With no engines on, and with Amphitrite filling the water around us with fish, we should be effectively masked.”

  Bull turned to Vickie, his eyebrow raised. “We?”

  John frowned and shared a look with Sera.

  “I’m going,” Vickie said flatly. “The chances are high that the infil team will need magic. And not only is this place we’re going a spaceship and not a city or a base built on the earth, it is specifically alien. I’m not sure I can work earth magic, or work through the earth. That leaves technomancy and some old-school spellcasting that I’m frankly rusty in. The closer I am physically to the team, the more likely it is I can pull this off. But there’s more to it than that. Penny’s going.”

  “She most certainly is not,” Bull said.

  “Sorry, Mistuh Bull, sir,” Penny spoke up, from where she had been sitting, completely ignored until now. “But I gotta. Mistuh Stone says so. He says some of his friends from the Lost Squadron are there, an’ the only way you can talk to ’em is if I’m there.”

  “I’m not a medium, Bull, I’m an extra-small.” Vickie deadpanned.

  “She’s a child,” Bulwark said with exaggerated patience. “Do I really need to debate the morals of taking a child with us on a mission?”

  “No, because there’s no debate happening. She’s going. Unless you want JM and Sera to have to search across two seven-and-a-half-kilometer half-spheres for the control room, she’s going. My contact doesn’t know where in the ship the damn thing is. Jacob Stone says the Lost Squadron knows the ship like the back of their ectoplasmic hands. Plus, they can watch for and alert us to trouble without being detected themselves. Penny will effectively be our eyes and our ears in there. We can’t do this any other way.” Vickie spread her hands. “I don’t intend her to go any further than the entrance, but she’s got to be there in order to summon and talk to the ghosts.”