Avalanche: Book Five in the Secret World Chronicle

by Lackey, Mercedes

  “The Commissar says there is no more reason for the child to be in the ship, ladies,” Eight said. “It is time to exfil.”

  Penny perked up next to her, her small face scrunching into a frown that was less concentration and more frustration. There had to be one of the spirits there, although Mel couldn’t see them. She sidled up to Penny and purposely brushed her forearm against her shoulder. That got Penny’s attention and she glanced up at her with a worry-filled frown.

  “Miz Blanc says the way we came in is all overgrown with those creepy hairs and slime. She doesn’t think we’re gonna be able to walk through it to get out.” Penny turned her head again, listening to their invisible ally. “But she’s pretty sure that she can help us find another way out, around the slimy room.”

  The chatter from the various combat locations filled Mel’s ears, albeit in a low rumble of activity. “Out only works if it can get us to the submarine. We all agreed that having you jump in water wasn’t gonna be part of anybody’s plan.”

  Penny nodded vigorously, her lips pressed together in a thin line. “An’ I don’t think that’s what she thinks we should do either, but she’s saying there’s lots of different ways around and through this place. And…” She scowled. “I’m tryin’ to understand all that she’s sayin’, but she talks even funnier French than my mama did.”

  Mel winced. That could be a liability if they had to wait for the translation, and they couldn’t call Victrix back to Jell-O the ghost like she’d done with Riley. “Well, have her slow down. I’m sure we can—”

  A wet chill passed through the illusionist’s body, coupled with the sensation of needing to sneeze. Mel shuddered, unsure of what had happened until she saw a petite figure with what appeared to be a jetpack and stubby, folded-in wings attached to her back. White-blonde hair and a pearlescent gray jumpsuit made Mel think she was staring at another Metisian, but the gauzy edges to her appearance convinced her that this was one of her own illusions. The figure’s lips continued to move, but it took a few seconds for the voice to materialize within the semblance of the body.

  “It’s not ‘funny,’ it is proper Parisian French. Mon Dieu, ce n’est pas ma faute que vous ne comprendrez pas des mots.” The petite pilot arched an eyebrow at Mel, who stared at her in disbelief. “Oui? You are also not able to understand the words I am saying?”

  “No, ma’am. I mean, yes, I understand you just fine, either way you want to say it. You’ve been here with Penny, right?”

  “Oui. You should thank Lily for her bit of mischief. She prides herself on her more unusual tactics.” The Frenchwoman nodded to Mel’s right. Another gauzy patch had started to solidify, this one in brown fabric with neat rows of patches. Cyrillic letters and patches marked the new woman as a Soviet pilot, but her round face and soft peroxide curls appeared at odds with the severe uniform. She beamed at Mel and hurried around to stand at Penny’s other side.

  “I told you, she was more kindred than not. We have luck on our side tonight,” Lily chirped. “So, you will follow me while Jeanne scouts ahead, and we will all see Comrade Stone’s gifted little devushka to safety, da?”

  “You kin see ’em?” Penny breathed, sounding excited. “What do they look like to you, Miz Mel?”

  Mel considered the pair flanking their young charge. The Frenchwoman strode confidently alongside them while the young Russian had linked her arm with Penny’s and was chattering excitedly in her ear. “Like us, really. They look just like us.”

  * * *

  Liquid fire arced over the front line of metahumans facing off against another wave of Kriegers. Some of the air-capable troops had taken to the sky, drawing fire away from the floating platforms. Ramona couldn’t stop cringing every time one of the rail guns let loose another rapid-fire salvo. She served as a shield for Mercurye, who manned one of the rocket launchers with the custom thermite payloads. Up and down the line of floating platforms, other pairs maintained a steady offensive against the never-ending wave of metal giants. They moved through the opaque shield that surrounded the floating city, the buzz and snap as each one appeared reminiscent of a transformer exploding.

  The thermite rounds had no effect on the shield. Nothing that the combined forces used could penetrate it. Anything that didn’t come from within the city met a sudden and violent end upon immediate contact. Ramona had seen artillery shells explode on contact and rain down slivers of jagged metal dust, so she had resorted to standing over Mercurye and forcing him to fire from a kneeling position. Those who had their own armor kept positions somewhat in the open, but the shower of shrapnel had forced others to retreat to secondary platforms. Ramona did her best to focus on Mercurye and the few square feet that they occupied, but every Thulian monstrosity that collapsed in flames was replaced by another soldier in minutes.

  One of the rail guns found its mark with a Sphere already canting sideways with flaming metal on its underside. The thrashing tentacles caught the edge of an automated turret and split the foundation while the wall of water had some of the closer troops struggling to stay upright on their platforms. Ramona bent her knees and braced herself against the deck, even as Mercurye kept firing. A fresh wave of Kriegers began to pass through the shield, but the fuzz around them faded before they stepped over the threshhold. Suddenly, she could see what lay beyond the recent line of troopers: a forest of dull scarlet, with a jagged rise of mountainous terrain behind it.

  Mercurye’s next shot went wide, the thermite round passing between two of the soldiers. Rather than vaporize above the floating city, the dull silver shell whizzed into the alien trees and covered them with molten metal.

  Seconds later, she could see the flames. “Holy shit! You see that? Eight, somebody—”

  “Yes, Steel Maiden. Confirmed that the exterior shields are down. Others fighting on the perimeter have experienced similar success.” Eight relayed a pattern of recent hits past the edge of the shield to her HUD, a thermal overlay showing the ever-growing field of flame. “Continue the assault until the next orders are relayed.”

  * * *

  The explosions in the city had become nigh constant, and Untermensch was surprised he could hear any of it over the sound of automatic weapons fire. The building he was hiding behind was wracked with another blast; a squad of Thulian troopers in power armor, supported by two dozen unarmored—but still very well armed—soldiers, had set up a makeshift barricade in the street ahead. Actinic energy blasts passed RPG warheads and bullets in the air. The invaders are now on the defensive, and we have become the raiders. He smiled to himself, but the thought was cut off when one of the troopers found its mark; Unter heard the cries of his fellow humans from across the street as their position was obliterated.

  The landing on the “beach” had been the easy part; with concerted fire and relentless artillery strikes, the few lines of Thulians had folded, retreating back into the jungle. The red foliage had already begun to die from the unfiltered light of the sun, wilting and sloughing to the ground. With no concealment or cover, combined with being harried by attack helicopters and the advancing army, only a few Thulians made it to the edge of the city. From there, things became conventional again for the human attackers. They had been moving through the city, supporting a platoon of tanks. The plan had been to strike fast, strike deep, and prevent the enemy from mounting a meaningful defense. As almost always happened, that had gone completely to shit from the first moment. The lead tank had been utterly destroyed by a Death Sphere, and a second one in the column damaged enough to count as a mobility kill; the crew, shaken and only lightly injured, had joined the rest of the ground forces. The other two tanks in the platoon had split off, taking a share of the infantry with them.

  “Georgi!” The Commissar had taken cover behind the same building as he had; she was coordinating the offensive, and had ignored the pleas from the other commanders to stay on one of the landing craft in order to lead from the front. The rest of his comrades from the CCCP were out here as well: Pavel
, Mamona, Thea, Proletariat, and even Soviette. All of them save for Jadwiga were part of RPG teams, tasked with taking down armored troopers with the specialized warheads or their metahuman abilities. Jadwiga was their combat medic; at the moment, she was attending to one of the tankers. “You and Pavel, get elevated in this building!”

  He nodded once, then looked to Bear. “Front entrance is covered by the fascista,” he said.

  “So, we are making own side door!” Bear trotted down the narrow alleyway, picking a spot of wall away from the rest of the CCCP. “Fire in all of the holes!” He charged his gauntlets for a moment, then loosed a short blast of plasma. The concrete-like material of the wall collapsed inwards, exposing an empty room. Further down the alley, a squad of Russian soldiers ran to join the main force.

  “You men! With us! We’re moving to the roof,” Unter shouted to them in Russian. Without a word, they formed up along the wall, ready to follow him. He didn’t hesitate; bringing up his rifle, he dashed into the room, making sure that he didn’t slip on any of the rubble on the floor. What followed was three tense minutes of room clearing. Unter, with his nanoweave armor and limited healing abilities, led the way. The building appeared to have been abandoned in a hurry; furniture was overturned, drinks had been left half finished on desks, and the like. From what they found, it seemed that this building had been residential in nature; probably managerial and officers’ quarters. In one room, Unter actually found a Thulian. He almost shot the creature before he noticed it was already dead—a self-inflicted gunshot to its head, from a genuine Luger laying on the floor near the body. It reminded Georgi of Nazi officers during the Great Patriotic War, who killed themselves rather than be taken prisoner by Soviet forces. He spat on the body, then continued onward.

  The group soon found a stairwell and quickly made their way to the roof. It was clear of any enemies. Unter turned to the others, slinging his rifle. “Form a line at the edge of the wall, and stay hidden! Wait for me to take the first shot, then open up on them. Go!” The soldiers obeyed immediately, moving into position with well-honed precision. Georgi nodded in satisfaction, then surveyed the area. From the briefing, he knew that the World Ship was shaped much like a giant clam, both halves opened up, with gently curving sides. From the ground, it hadn’t been too noticeable, but from the rooftop he was sickeningly aware of the curvature. Looking across the street, he could see the rooftops of buildings blocks away…from a somewhat top-down perspective. Despite this, the gravity was still pulling him straight down, instead of towards the saddle of the curve. He fought back a brief feeling of vertigo before spotting movement on a rooftop two blocks over; some fascisti had had the same idea as the Commissar and were setting up an ambush from above. Unter relayed their position, then went back to the task at hand.

  Untermensch stowed his rifle near the lip of the roof’s wall, then carefully peered over the edge. The armored troopers were still up and firing, using the barricade to shield themselves from RPGs, ducking in and out of cover to fire their arm cannons. Satisfied, he called over his shoulder to Pavel. “Old Bear, break out the warheads. I’ll fire, you reload. Have the men concentrate on any armor I score a direct hit on, then alternate to the unarmored troopers.”

  “Da, Georgi.”

  Unter readied the RPG tube, retrieving it from his pack, shouldering it, and waited. He watched as Pavel carefully removed a warhead from his pack, twisting it into the front of the tube, and then pulling the safety pin for the impact fuze. He stepped to the side, then roughly patted Unter’s head with his mechanical hand. “Backblast—clear!” He knew that the soldiers were along the wall already, but it paid to be careful when dealing with explosives. He took a breath, then stood up and aimed down into the street. He immediately sighted in on the furthest suit of armor and pulled the trigger. The warhead shot out of the tube on a plume of gunpowder before the rocket engines kicked; it hit the Thulian armor in the shoulder, and the entire suit was almost immediately engulfed in napalmlike flames. The Russian soldiers all popped up from their positions simultaneously, and began raking the entire Thulian barricade with rifle and machine gun fire, focusing particularly on the armored trooper that Unter had ignited.

  At that moment, Georgi felt a pang of grief. This would be much easier with the Murdocks. He had heard of their passing over the comms, right after the shields had gone down. Even the Commissar had been affected; she had gone silent for several long moments before giving the order to launch the assault. John had been a comrade and, albeit a strange one, had never shied away from doing his duty. Georgi had liked him, and even his wife, after a fashion. There wasn’t time to mourn them, unfortunately. Unter brushed the thoughts from his mind with a lingering pride that his comrade had completed his mission, so that the rest of them might do the same.

  The rooftop squad continued this pattern, with Unter and Bear hitting a trooper with the RPG and the soldiers finishing the job, until the Thulians on the ground got wise to the game. They split their fire between the Commissar’s position and Unter’s; even though Unter had the high ground, he and the rest of the squad were effectively pinned. Before he could radio to the Commissar with a status update, an attack helicopter obliterated the Thulian position with fire from its chin-mounted chain gun and rockets. What I would have given for air support like this in Stalingrad…

  “Georgi, regroup on the street. We are moving forward,” was the only acknowledgment the Commissar gave. She is juggling an entire battle; cannot be expecting a pat on the head for doing one’s job every other second. Unter began to move…and then stopped. Something made him look back to the street one last time.

  With many of the structures in the World Ship burning, much of the street was obscured by smoke. The smoke in this area had cleared somewhat for a moment, allowing Georgi an unobstructed view. At the end of the street two blocks away, a mixed force of Thulian troopers and Supernaut-armored soldiers marched towards the Commissar. At the front of the formation was Worker’s Champion.

  * * *

  Thanks to mage-sight, she saw Red, like a possessing spirit, imposed over the Doppelgaenger. But even if she hadn’t been able to see him, Vickie would have known it was him. It was his eyes. She had never told him, but she had always been able to see through any of his disguises. His eyes were always an odd mix of sardonic and scarred yet deeply compassionate. Except for that one frightening moment when he had rescued her from Bela when they had been flat and expressionless. No one else had those eyes. They were inherently Red’s.

  “How…?” she literally felt her jaw drop, and her face go blank. “I felt you die! How is this even possible?”

  “It’s…” Red started, and sighed, his body drooping, his face falling into one hand. “It’s kind of complicated. You want the long or the short version?” Vickie watched as the fingers on Doppelgaenger’s hand parted, and Red peeked out from under them. “You look great, by the way.”

  “Short version. The clock is ticking.” It wasn’t what she wanted, what she wanted was to fling herself at him and alternately berate and kiss him, but…

  “Would you believe…the power of love?” he said.

  She blinked slowly, trying to make those words into something that actually equated to an explanation, and stared at him. “Okay, long answer then.”

  He started to speak, stammering something about power, about how he had not been able to let go, and gave up. “It’s…gah…I don’t know how to explain it. I don’t have the words.”

  “Since when do you not have words!” Vickie exploded. “The entire frickin’ world is outside making one last desperate move against these bastards, Sera and John have probably immolated themselves taking down the ship’s shields, Bella and Bull have to stop an endless army, and I was just about to take off your head, limbs and cut out your heart! You don’t have the words? Find them! We don’t have time for this!”

  He took a long, deep breath. “I promised to come back to you. So I did.” He reached inside himself…which wa
s disconcerting and weird and a little nauseating to watch, and pulled out…his claw. The polished, chipped claw that had hung around her neck for so long, which Doppelgaenger had “eaten.” He held it out to her; she touched it, and his hand with it…and understood, with mathematical clarity, what had happened. She looked up at him, so full of wonder that…now she didn’t have any words.

  When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, amazed. She had thought that she had been overwhelmed with joy when they’d finally kissed. But that was—nothing, compared to this moment. All she could do was hold onto his hand and tremble with the strength of it.

  “You couldn’t move on,” she said.

  “Nope.”

  “Your promise…it was a geas.”

  “Yep.”

  “And what little was left of you, held on…powered by…by…” She held up the claw and looked at it, shocked.

  “The fact that I am too stupid and stubborn to give up once I’ve made a promise,” he smirked.

  “And by the pure, unadulterated love made manifest and stored in this shared, linked talisman?” she said, waving the claw.

  “Yeah, that too. Love claw. Yeah.”

  “But that couldn’t have been enough to bring you back,” Vickie said, shaking her head. “You would have been next to nothing, a glimmer, a shadow of yourself.”

  “Thankfully,” Red nodded, and pointed at his head. “Or she would have felt me rooting around in here. I needed time, to leech whatever strength I could while she slept. Strength to recuperate, and to hide. I think the union took a lot more out of her than she’d figured, ’cause she had to sleep a lot, and that sleep didn’t really bring her much rest. After those first few nights, while she was out, I found I could take control and so I got to work. Was weird. But I learned quite a bit, kept an eye on you guys and sent you as much as I could. Warned you when her Masters sent her after you, God, that was close, and I…I was…” He paused for a moment, so overwhelmed with emotion and memory that he shuddered. When he continued, his voice was soft, pensive. “She knows a lot about magic, did you know that? She and Bela had set up a lot of arcane traps and countermeasures on this ship. Took a while, but I think I got them all. Just in time, too. Jack would have gotten pinched bad if I hadn’t.”