Collision: Book Four in the Secret World Chronicle - eARC

by Mercedes Lackey

  “It’s not just for our benefit,” Victrix pointed out. “If you get into trouble we can pinpoint you and have a good chance of extracting you even if you are unconscious.” Her little chin firmed in an expression that was remarkably like Belladonna’s. “Unlike Verdigris, we take care of our own, even when they become inconvenient.”

  “As Harmony became inconvenient to Dom?” Khanjar said, after a moment. She pondered. “You have a point. A very good point.” She thought a little more, but really, what choice did she have? It was this, or…

  Or be reborn as a toad. I think not.

  “I accept,” she said, and then spent a very interesting fifteen minutes as the little magician implanted a camera in her left eye, a microphone in the roof of her mouth and a speaker and a sound-pickup in her ear. It was remarkably painless, all but the part where the camera-thing crawled around to the optic nerve. And that wasn’t painful, just uncomfortable, and rather unnerving.

  Then Victrix walked her through the activation procedure. Interestingly, she called the system “Kali.” Khanjar found that amusing, appropriate and convenient. “You can’t turn it off, of course,” Victrix said, matter-of-factly. “All you can really do is alert me by saying ‘Kali, listen’ to the fact that there is something you want to say to us, or to have us overhear. The rest of the time it will be on constant record.”

  Khanjar just shrugged.

  “Dom and I have not been sharing much for several weeks now,” she said with indifference. “I cannot say this matters to me, since he has not been taking any other partners. He goes through stages like this, where he devotes every waking moment to his projects. I don’t expect this to change until the Thulian matter has been decided once and for all.”

  “Diplomatically put,” Bella said dryly. “All right then, consider the bargain made.” She stood up and reached over the desk with her hand extended. A little surprised by the gesture, Khanjar took it and shook it. The empath’s handshake was firm…and surprisingly strong. The handshake of a truly honest person, Khanjar reflected, amused. But she noticed that Belladonna did not release her hold on the pistol, though she transferred it to her left hand. Khanjar had no doubt that the empath was an equally good shot with either hand.

  “Now, for my errand,” Khanjar said delicately.

  “Well you can say that you know that Steel Maiden is the liaison between ECHO and CCCP,” Belladonna said, sitting back down. Victrix retreated to behind Parker’s chair. “What else, Vix?”

  “Projector: Steel Maiden,” the little mage said, and a half-height holographic image of the lady in question, sprang up on the desk. It rotated. “Quick, answer without thinking. Does that look like Ramona Ferrari?”

  “No,” Khanjar answered, as ordered.

  “Good. Hold that a moment. Bells?”

  The empath’s eyes narrowed and Khanjar felt a strange tickling sensation inside her skull for just a moment. She felt her eyes widen and she sprang to her feet. “What did you do?” she cried in alarm, fumbling for a weapon she wasn’t wearing.

  “Nothing unethical, sit down.” The tone was that of an order, and to her shock, Khanjar felt herself obeying. The ECHO head continued. “I just grew a neural connection for you. Your very first response to that question will be, from now on, ‘No, Steel Maiden does not look like Ramona Ferrari.’ Not the best psion or the best lie detector will get anything other than that out of you.”

  “But—is it?” Khanjar asked. She was both appalled that Belladonna would do that to her, and…oddly comforted.

  Belladonna shrugged. “Look for yourself.”

  Khanjar examined the hologram closely. And, truly, the more she looked at it, the less it looked like the presumably-dead detective. Still…

  “I…cannot be sure,” she admitted.

  “Good. We want doubt planted in Verdigris’s mind. ‘No it doesn’t’ and ‘But I can’t be sure,’ in equal measure.” Khanjar noted that Belladonna was caressing the gun in her hand, a little. She doubted it was an unconscious gesture. “Now you can say you have seen her and investigated. That’s what we want. You and us. The more distractions he has, the better it is for our side.”

  Khanjar nodded. The day that Dom made an enemy out of this woman was a very bad day for him, and he doesn’t even realize it. The thought made her oddly satisfied.

  “Now, is there anything more we can do for you?” Belladonna said, when Khanjar had been silent for several moments.

  “This has been very satisfactory,” Khanjar said, getting to her feet again. “Even if we are—what is the Western saying?—strange bedfellows.”

  “If we all survive this, I hope you’ll consider coming over to us permanently,” Parker replied, also getting to her feet. “ECHO could use someone of your talents. I can promise you there would be a vast improvement in your karmic balance.”

  Khanjar considered that for a moment. “I suspect my karmic balance may be in need of that,” she said, thoughtfully. “I’ll consider the offer, certainly.” If my bank balance is sufficiently weighted…it might be well to do just that.

  As the little magician cleared out of the way, Khanjar jumped and caught the edge of the ceiling panel, and pulled herself back up inside. Best to leave the way she had come in.

  The last she saw of the two ECHO Ops was of them watching her thoughtfully from below as she closed the panel again.

  But that was not quite the last she heard from them.

  “And remember. Kali is always watching,” said a voice in her ear. “Always.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Eskimo

  Mercedes Lackey and Veronica Giguere

  The recent conversation with Sera had given Ramona Ferrari a lot to consider during her days at the CCCP headquarters. She spent much of her time doing paperwork, filling out forms stamped with the stylized hammer and sickle. Although she had felt odd writing requests in triplicate with the portrait of Marx scowling at her, Ramona had settled into a bit of a rhythm, managing Red Saviour’s requests with a monotone “Da, Commissar” that walked the line between boredom and disrespect. The severe woman didn’t argue with the detective’s efficiency, and Ramona didn’t argue with Natalya’s demands for office supplies.

  The Commissar didn’t scare Ramona, which was something in and of itself. Most of the non-CCCP metahumans who encountered Natalya gave her plenty of space and didn’t attempt to argue with her. Ramona had no problem pointing out the mistakes and fallacies in Natalya’s arguments, but she did have the decency to do it when they were in the presence of a select few. Soviette and Bella were those select few, and Ramona had realized that Bella savored those moments where one of them could go toe-to-toe with Red Saviour.

  At the moment, Bella stood with her arms folded across her chest, her blue lips pressed in a thin smile while Soviette held a hand to her own forehead in frustration. For her part, Ramona maintained a calm expression and tone as Red Saviour shook the upper half of a nanoweave suit inches from her face.

  “This is CCCP standard uniform! This will go under the black and red if you are to be engaging in combat, and as you are no longer on medical leave, you will be engaging in combat exercises!” Red Saviour pointed a finger at Soviette. “She says you are no longer in infirmary. If you are not infirm, you will engage in duties other than paperwork!”

  “Commissar, I’m not wearing that nanoweave. It’s not an option,” Ramona began for the sixth time. “My current physiology won’t let me.”

  “You are no bigger than Chug, and we have standard uniform for him! Is not to be a fashion show on streets of Atlanta!” Red Saviour fumed and narrowed her eyes. “Is not ECHO and pin up calendar time!”

  Bella smothered a laugh. The noise prompted Saviour to fix her with a murderous glare, which only caused Bella to laugh even harder. A quick glance to Soviette told Ramona that she had gone from being frustrated to amused, the corners of her eyes crinkling even as tears streamed down Bella’s face.

  “Does this amuse you, blue girl?
Is the demand for CCCP uniform and safety some kind of joke to ECHO now?” Red Saviour offered her own fierce wolfish grin in warning. “You find me funny?”

  “Hysterical,” Bella choked out. “Nat, this isn’t about your uniform. This is about safety and support.” The blue meta made a visible effort to restrain herself. “Bear will never be able to take his eyes off her boobs. You really want him drooling and shooting randomly in combat?”

  Ramona had managed to keep a straight face in spite of the laughter. She cleared her throat and brought up both hands to gesture to her chest. “What Bella and Sovie are trying to tell you is that the nanoweave also isn’t going to provide adequate combat support for someone of my proportions. The three of you don’t have to contend with gravity in quite the same way that I do.”

  Natalya opened her mouth as if to argue again, but she stopped as Ramona continued to hold her hands level with her chest. “I need more than nanoweave or spandex up top, Commissar. Something that can provide protection without any metal alloy. Otherwise, that’s going to disappear pretty quickly.” In the weeks following her “death” and recuperation, Ramona had learned that any unprotected metal or metal covered with a layer of anything thin, like paint, could be absorbed into her skin. She had taken to wearing gloves while doing paperwork to ensure that staples didn’t disappear. “Without that, I can’t go on patrol.”

  Bella nodded in agreement. “She’s right. Dolly’s got it worse in the top-heavy department, but at least her skin won’t eat her underwires. If you want her out with the rest of the comrades, she’ll have to wear something better than standard-issue CCCP.” She studied Ramona’s figure for a moment, her blue lips pursed in thought. “Something natural, maybe we could infuse it with nanoweave for structure. Kind of like a nanoweave mesh in between two layers. If we compact it enough, it could act like metal.”

  “Da. Would need a lot of support,” Soviette offered. She stepped closer to Ramona and pulled at the baggy coveralls. “Here and here, especially in high combat situations.”

  Natalya scowled. “Mutation is metal, da? Why can you not to be making these supports on your own?”

  Ramona scowled back at the commissar. “It’s not that simple. I’m still trying to figure out what to do. I haven’t gotten to metal bikini level, yet. And even if I do, is patrol really the best option? Is that all we’re going to do, wait until the next wave of Spheres and Kriegers descends upon the city? Sit and wait to react?”

  “Is something better to do? You and blue girl are planning attack on metal alien svinyas over talks of fashion?” Natalya sniffed and crossed her arms. “More attack, less fashion. Keep talking.”

  The veiled bit of support from the Commissar was encouraging, and Ramona focused on Bella as she continued. “I’m serious. There’s been some progress made in figuring out what they are, who’s controlling them, how they attack, but we still don’t have any more help. We’re still no closer to getting the Metisans to help us.”

  Bella considered this and nodded. “They’re a true democracy. They have to have the real majority in order to support us, but even then, we can’t be sure of the kind of support.”

  Ramona pursed her lips thoughtfully. In any organization, strong lines of communication maintained some semblance of order when everything else crumbled. Leaders could change and locations could shift, but as long as someone kept the path of communication open and informative, life went on. It was why Overwatch was the backbone of the real ECHO and how they had managed to retain so much during the loss of Alex Tesla and the rise and fall of Dominic Verdigris. Everyone on the ground remained informed to some extent; some knew more than others, but the lines of communication stayed open and people knew the names and voices they could trust for the truth.

  Because they hadn’t been able to trust the Metisans, the leaders of ECHO had kept them out of the loop. They kept the talking heads informed, but Ramona knew that Tesla and even Marconi filtered the news that they passed to their caretakers and allies in the alien city. To make sure that Metis knew the whole story and what was at stake, they had to hear it from those who were in the thick of the fight and who understood the real odds against the Thulians.

  “Eskimos,” Ramona muttered, tapping her forefinger against her lower lip.

  Bella caught both the word and gesture, and both eyebrows shot upward in surprise. “The iciest,” she agreed in a heartbeat, “but I don’t think we’re there yet. We’ve got other options to speak with the Metisans. That’s why we have the quantator and the blue heads and even Mercurye.”

  “And none of them really understand the scope of what’s going on down here. Sure, Mercurye has seen the Kriegers and Death Spheres, but how long has he been stuck up there? How much news are they getting that isn’t filtered through Tesla and Marconi?” Ramona glanced from Bella to the Commissar and Soviette. “Who else goes into that room to speak with them besides me on a semi-regular basis?”

  Red Saviour wrinkled her nose at the question. “Is not more important than patrols and support of other initiatives. I have no desire to sit for tea and conversation with scared old men.”

  Ramona couldn’t help but beam at the words. “Exactly,” she said, triumphant. “It’s a conversation with scared old men. They’re adorable, they’re smart, but they’re lousy ambassadors for what needs to be done. They can’t speak for you, Bella. They’re not going to have the best interests of ECHO in mind when they present our case.”

  “They don’t get it,” Bella said, nodding slowly. “They can’t. They’ve lost that human element, and they’re terrified of mortality. Honestly, it makes me wonder if that isn’t the main problem. They’ve had a good long taste of immortality and they are afraid to lose it.”

  “Exactly. We can only trust them so much, because they’re not going to argue for something that could threaten their existence.” The former detective flashed a wolfish grin that prompted the Commissar to snort in surprise. “Whereas I’ve already faced my end and come back with some interesting abilities. I’m fully invested in the cause, I know that we need real help, and I’m not afraid to go into whatever passes for their boardroom and make the case.”

  Bella had nodded throughout Ramona’s little speech, her lips twisting in concentration while her eyes focused on the far wall. From the way the corner of her mouth twitched, Ramona wondered if Vickie was weighing in on the conversation from Overwatch. She glanced to the Commissar and found Natalya grinning back at her in what appeared to be enthusiastic approval. Soviette’s expression wasn’t as harsh, but she allowed a small nod of solidarity as Bella continued her private conversation with herself and whoever chimed in via her comm.

  “You can’t afford to send anyone else,” Ramona added. “You need everyone else in the core group; Pride still needs to be your face, Bull needs to be right there in the mix, and I think we can all agree that the Djinni should not be allowed in any kind of public relations capacity. For all intents and purposes, I’m dead. No one’s expecting me to show up anywhere. Steel Maiden doesn’t need to be seen again now that I’ve made my appearance, and I can actually play bait a lot better if I am nowhere to be found.”

  “Maybe, but the question is, how do you get to Metis? We can’t get you there,” Bella pointed out.

  Ramona drew a deep breath. “But if I find a way? If I buy my own ticket, so to speak, do I have your approval to speak on ECHO’s behalf to get the Metisians in our corner and willing to help us?”

  Bella glanced to Natalya. “You think she should go, don’t you?”

  “It would pain me to lose such efficient paperwork girl, but others will replace.” The Commissar’s eyes lit up in delight. “Would send this one to negotiate with Moscow, but Moscow would crumble too easily.”

  “Wow.” High praise from Natalya was rare, and Bella didn’t hide her surprise. “That settles it, then. You find a way, you can go, but you tell me first, you got it?”

  Ramona bobbed her head in agreement. “Got it. Give me half a
day and I’ll know for sure. In the meantime, can we figure out a better clothing solution? If I’m going to head into the thick of battle, I’m going to need a real solution that won’t be more than a cloth sausage casing, y’know?”

  “Oh, I’ve got ideas.” Bella’s expression demonstrated her own wolflike grin, a testament to just how much the Commissar had rubbed off on the young metahuman leader. She grabbed one of the nanoweave suits and headed for the office door. “Sergei & Carson aren’t officially part of ECHO, but they do a lot of custom solutions. I’ll see what they can pull together for you.” She left the room, chuckling to herself the entire way.

  “You go nowhere until you eat.” Soviette wagged a delicate finger at her patient and kept her voice stern. “You are getting too skinny, and you need to support your new metabolism. If you are wanting to speak with anyone else, you will eat first, da?”

  “And if you are not to be choosing wisely, will send Pavel to share his canned ravioli and stories of Great Patriotic War.” Natalya’s smile was full of teeth and fierce delight. She rubbed her hands together. “Or will make you both share Waffle House.”

  * * *

  Ramona crept through the hallway of the CCCP headquarters on her way to the room that held the quantator. She had made herself a pair of peanut butter sandwiches in the hope that would satisfy Soviette’s requirement for eating, but the stern doctor had declared it a ‘snack’ and made Ramona promise to eat more later. That was…a big change from the life she had once led. But pictures didn’t lie, and those pictures of Steel Maiden on the Harper’s website had proven beyond a doubt that the “new” Ramona Ferrari was not going to have worry about weight ever again. Or—at least, not weight in the sense that normals thought about it. She had a different sort of “weight problem” now, one she shared with Bulwark. With plate in hand, Ramona approached the lounge that held the ancient television that Soviet Bear commandeered for much of the time when he didn’t patrol. The theme from Golden Girls blared. Ramona heard a dirty chuckle, followed by a wolf whistle that ended in a rusty cough. She did her best to creep down the hallway, but her footsteps fell heavy and she heard the thick voice call from the other room.