Collision: Book Four in the Secret World Chronicle - eARC

by Mercedes Lackey

  “No problem, Vix. If’n you need anythin’, y’know how to reach us. Just a call an’ a short flight away.” They stood up and headed for the window. She followed them. She got the feeling that they knew very well she was only paying lip-service to their words, but they didn’t seem inclined to press the point, and she…well, she just wanted to get back to things she could do something about.

  The more she worked, the less she had to feel.

  She closed and locked up the window after them, and stood there for a moment, staring at her living room without seeing it. Then she started as Sam Colt opened her link.

  “Overwatch Sam to Vix.”

  “Go Sam,” she said, jumping over the coffee table and sprinting for the Control Room, heart hammering. What could have happened now? Some horror weapon rising out of the rubble? Poison gas? Neurotoxins?

  “I think you need to hear this.”

  Her HUD switched on as she launched into her chair, and all her monitors lit up. “…found her wandering around in the ruins,” someone was saying as Sam Colt focused one of the eyes she had left behind on a search and rescue team. “Looks like she’s one of the infil team members. We’re sending her back to Atlanta as soon as we can get her on a plane, but she’s pretty disoriented. Can you ID her?”

  Sam zoomed the cam in on the woman on the stretcher, who was weakly protesting that she could walk on her own.

  Vickie gasped in disbelief.

  Filthy, bruised, uniform torn in several places, two black eyes, blond hair a snarled mess, she was still unmistakable.

  It was Scope.

  I need a little explanation here. I was not going to let my people go on a Metisian field trip without some backup. I got some of our Overwatch 1 contingent who were heading home to hand over their earpieces and throat mics to Bella, who in her turn handed them over to the three Metisian pilots we trusted and to Merc. Then I integrated Tesla and Marconi into the system. If for some reason the Metisians decided We Weren’t Worthy, I wanted a way to communicate and maybe get them all out of there before the excrement hit the rotating blade.

  Paranoid?

  If they’re really out to get you, you’re not paranoid.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Ablivion

  Mercedes Lackey, Dennis Lee, Cody Martin, Veronica Giguere

  The quarters that had been assigned to each of the delegates to Metis reminded Bella of the White Rooms at the end of 2001: A Space Odyssey. Everything was white; furniture, walls, floors and ceiling, with completely non-directional, soft light flooding everything. The only color was provided by the things they had brought with them. Except that, unlike the rooms in the movie, when you happened to lie down—or said “Lights out”—the rooms went to black, with a little lighted path that guided you to the bathroom.

  Bella was still trying to process actually being here. Vickie’s call was not helping that.

  “Wait what?” Bella said, clutching her hair with one hand. “It’s…”

  “It’s Scope,” Vickie replied in her ear. “It’s definitely Scope. They’re air-evacing her right back to Atlanta. The question is, what do you, Bull and Yank want to do with her when she gets there?”

  Thank God for Overwatch Conference calls… “Guys?” Bella said, staring at the plain white wall of the guest quarters she shared with Bulwark…who was getting yet another of the Metis-style medical treatment sessions that were working along with her own healing powers to accelerate his recovery past everyone’s expectations. “I…I’m still kind of in shock here but…how in hell did she survive getting a tower dropped on her if…”

  “Forget the tower,” Pride said. “You saw the specs on that modular bomb. She should have been vaporized the moment it hit, her and everything in a 50 yard radius. I don’t think we’re going to get any answers here, not until we examine her. Is she even injured?”

  “Nothing too bad,” Vickie said. “It all seems to be superficial cuts and bruises. She’s weak though, dazed, dehydrated, doesn’t seem to remember anything.”

  Bella glanced at Bull, who was flat on his back, shirtless, on a special treatment “bed” that had been brought in for him, replacing one of the two couches. Whatever it did, it seemed to replicate some of her own abilities, and add others. The Metisian physicians had explained it supplied additional nutrients directly through skin contact rather than IV. How the hell it managed that she had no idea. But it definitely was working as advertised. He certainly looked better, stronger, and he was back to his old stalwart pokerface. The novelty of having a lover she couldn’t read had worn off a bit. Sometimes, like right now, it was downright irritating. She wasn’t picking up anything from him. There was nothing to suggest he was elated or suspicious or even surprised about Scope’s return. He simply lay there, listening. She felt an irrational urge to bop him on the head, perhaps jar something resembling an emotion out of him.

  “I don’t like it,” she said flatly. “Unless she somehow manifested a whole new power and teleported herself out in the nick of time…”

  “Or someone else got her out,” Pride said. “Or she knew the layout of that tower beforehand, and managed to put some distance between herself and ground zero before it blew. Of course, for that to have happened, she’s had to keep some naughty secrets from us…”

  “I’m not sure I like where this line of thought is going,” Bull interrupted. “I get it. Her appearance is highly suspicious, but before we get to the wild accusations, we’ll need to talk to her.”

  “Bull, this is all about deciding what the hell we do with her when she gets here.” replied Vickie. “What if Harm wasn’t the only mole we had in the works? You want that walking around on the campus without a minder with all of you gone?”

  “I’m not suggesting any such thing,” Bull said. “I agree, she should be detained, but I want it made clear to her she is not, strictly speaking, a prisoner. We’re just not in a position to take any chances. Trust me, she’ll understand that.”

  “If it is, in fact, her,” he added as an afterthought. “I think it best to run all the physical tests you can on her before we get back. Play it up as your standard suite of physicals.”

  “Okay then, what do we do with her? Slap one of those wristbands you put on Red on her? Want me to come up with something?” Even over the comm, they could all hear Vickie’s voice hardening. “I’ve got some pretty interesting coercion spells in my arsenal.”

  “That’s not going to cut it,” Bella said. “She may not be a prisoner, but I want to be sure she’s secure. Like Bull said, we’re not taking any chances. Put her in Top Hold.”

  “Okay, relaying that to the welcoming committee. Also I don’t have full Overwatch sets but I can jury-rig a tag that I can slap on her that will track her every move in case she manages to make a break for it.”

  “It will do,” Bull said. He adjusted himself on his bed. “How is she, Victrix?”

  “I told you, she’s dazed with minor injuries, and…”

  “I mean how is she?”

  “Oh,” Vickie said. “Couldn’t tell you, seeing as I haven’t spoken to her yet. Remember, she’s not wired up with O2, and she lost or threw away her O1 mic and headset. From the reports, she’s not speaking much, she stares off in space a lot, but she seems agitated. She trembles a lot.”

  “Not surprising,” Pride said. “She’s been through a lot.”

  “There’s another explanation,” Bella said, and shared a sad look with Bulwark. “Scope would probably be jonesing about now.”

  Bull nodded. “Please keep her under observation, Victrix. I’ll need to have a long talk with her when we get back, after we look over her test results.”

  “I’ll see what I can jury-rig. I might be able to add a direct observational component to that tag. If I can, and I can feed it to tech rather than magic, you want me to add it to your Overwatch suite? Just the four of us.”

  “No,” Bella said, firmly. “Unless something goes kablooey, just keep an eye on her.
I have a feeling we’re going to have our hands full here.”

  A soft non-directional chime interrupted her. “It is time for the Council meeting with the Delegates,” said a pleasant (a little too pleasant) female voice with no discernable accent. “All delegates and guests should make their way to the Marconi Grand Foyer.”

  “Roger that. Will be monitoring and recording the discussion with the Metisians per orders. Victrix out.”

  “And on that note…” Bull sat up, and swung his legs over the side of his bed, reaching for his uniform tunic, which was draped on the platform next to him.

  “Hey hey, whoa whoa there, Mr. Stubborn Mule,” Bella said, trying to press him back down. “Did I say you were fit to get out of that thing?”

  “Bella,” Bulwark said, resting his hand gently on hers. “I’m fine. I should be there, and are you really going to wheel me around in this contraption?”

  “If that is what it will take to keep you from undoing everything Metis and I have done to you so far,” she snapped. “Fortunately, our hosts have provided us with something better.” She whistled, and what looked like a very comfortable, if somewhat skeletal, recliner on wheels obediently glided over to the side of the treatment bed.

  “Please, I’m hardly an invalid.”

  “About a week ago you were hardly alive,” she reminded him.

  Bulwark glared at the wheelchair, then back to Bella.

  “I know better than to get in that thing,” he rumbled. “But then, I also know even better than to argue with you when your eyes start to flash like that.”

  “Wise man,” Pride chuckled.

  Bull sat up again, pulled on his nanoweave uniform tunic, waved off Bella’s attempts to assist him, and eased himself into the wheelchair.

  “Shall we?” he asked, motioning to the door. Bella led the way, the wheelchair following her like an eager puppy.

  * * *

  “All delegates and guests should make their way to the Marconi Grand Foyer.” Ramona recognized Mabel’s saccharine politeness and made a face. She picked at a flake of metal on one knuckle while Pride finished his conversation with the voices between his ears. Tweaking her appearance took a bit of concentration and creativity, but Ramona enjoyed the effect it had on the Metisans as well as the newly-arrived Echo leadership. Mercurye waited at the door for them expectantly, as if showing up late for the meeting was one of the last things he wanted to do.

  “Well, looks like there’s one less empty cell waiting when we get back.” Pride leaned forward and let out a long breath. He did not have the appearance of a man willing to jump when Mabel beckoned. “Victrix said that Scope’s turned up in spite of the disaster at Ultima Thule. They’re going to keep an eye on her, but…”

  “But you think it’s suspicious,” Ramona finished. “Not finding a body would have made more sense.”

  Pride hesitated. “I’m not saying that she should have died, or that I’m not happy to see her whole. Losing anyone within the organization is never easy, and we’ve lost a lot of folks in the last few years. At the same time, the circumstances and the results just don’t add up.” He sighed heavily and pushed himself up from the pristine white couch. “And at this point, we can’t afford blind optimism.”

  “Not arguing with you, boss.” Ramona stretched and followed suit, her joints making metallic popping noises with the effort. Pride frowned, but she waved off his concern. “I’d like to believe that we can celebrate the little victories, but that’s just too convenient.”

  Mercurye stepped aside to let them pass before falling in beside Ramona. The wide passageway would have allowed another to join them with plenty of shoulder space to spare. “That battle can’t really fit the description of a little victory, can it? You had Chang there for the offensive, not to mention support from other affiliate organizations. The entire Thulian city crumbled, according to the reports that I got to see. That looks like a win for the good guys.”

  Ramona held back a smile, years of experience giving her the skills to temper her immediate emotions. Pride didn’t show any amusement at Merc’s words; on the contrary, they seemed to bother the usually easygoing metahuman. He narrowed his eyes and spoke tersely. “It was an enormous battle, and there were enormous casualties on both sides. It’s a little too recent for me to consider it a victory when we’re still contacting next of kin for the fallen.” He clasped his hands behind his back and took a few steps ahead of the other two, apparently ready to end the conversation there.

  Mercurye tried to catch up, but Ramona put a hand on his elbow. She held the speedster back a few paces to give Yankee Pride room for thought before they had to face the Metisans. Merc let out a long breath, the gesture deflating the poor guy like a kid’s punching doll. “Sorry,” he mumbled to the space between them. “I thought I was being helpful.”

  “I know. You’ve just been removed from a lot of it, and he’s been thrown in the thick of it.” Ramona slid her hand from his elbow to his palm and interlaced their fingers. “You’re probably the only person in Echo who isn’t creeped out by the whitewash around here.”

  That made Merc snort. “I’m used to it. That doesn’t mean that I’m not creeped out. I do like the clothes, though. Might be hard to give these up for nanoweave when they let us leave.”

  If, not when. Ramona had discussed her concerns about the Metisians’ detainment of Mercurye with Bella, Bull, and Pride as Vickie weighed in via Overwatch. Keeping someone in Metis afforded them a direct link to Tesla and Marconi that was not limited by the quantator, and the nature of war meant that they would need to rely more and more upon the collective experience and expertise of the two Elder Statesmen of the Science City. If that meant that she would have to stay in Metis, she wanted to be ready to break that news to Merc. In spite of the thought-speed message relay of Overwatch, Ramona figured that Arthur Chang would want the speedster closer to the battle than here. Then again…that wasn’t Chang’s call. Disposition of ECHO personnel was strictly up to Bella and Pride. So maybe they could both stay.

  And anyway, Vickie had made sure all three of the Metisian pilots that had struck up such a firm friendship with Rick had gotten Overwatch One sets. A commute via Metisian saucer was mere hours. They could work something out.

  “Your seats are waiting.” Mabel’s false cheer resonated just around the corner. Ramona ground her teeth together as they caught up to Pride. On the other hand…if I never saw Mabel again, I would consider myself lucky. Mabel eyed Mercurye with a hungry smile and gestured to the doors. “Yankee Pride and, ah, Steel Maiden are expected with the Echo delegation. Rick, if you would be a dear and escort me—”

  Both Pride and Ramona tensed, but it was Mercurye who interrupted Mabel with charm so magnetic it would have put Spin Doctor to shame. He held up the hand clasped with Ramona. “I would, but it seems I’m already tagged for escort duty. Maybe next summit?”

  Mercurye breezed past Mabel, tucking Ramona’s hand into the crook of his elbow. Behind them, Ramona heard Pride rumble a genteel offer as replacement. She choked back a laugh at Mabel’s offended refusal and waited for him to catch up to them. For his part, Yankee Pride didn’t appear the least bit bothered by the Metisan representative’s behavior.

  “Must be a societal quirk. Bless her heart,” he drawled loud enough for her to hear. “I guess we’ll find our seats on our own.”

  * * *

  Red Saviour was…unsettled. On the one hand, she was actually ahead in the little game of points she was playing in her mind with Worker’s Champion. And…that was thanks to Bella, who had surreptitiously given her hints of how to handle the old man. From being contemptuous of the ECHO leader, Natalya was finding herself in the slightly uncomfortable position of feeling grateful to her. Even of…wanting to follow her advice. Once in a while.

  On the other hand, she was where she had wanted to be, for months now, about to confront the Metisians…only to discover that she really didn’t want to be here after all. Their hosts had given th
em all materials to peruse about the Metisian society and it was…Marxian communism at its heart. Everything devoted to the good of the whole. Equal distribution of material goods. No one confined to a single role, unless that was something he preferred. All decisions requiring the consensus of all. Which should have made her elated. But this Marxian communism had resulted in an insular, arrogant society, sure of its superiority, cut off from the plight of the workers outside of Metis, and sure that it, and it alone, was wise enough to decide what might be dribbled down to the lesser masses.

  This room should have pleased her. This society was oddly spartan (at least when it came to obvious things that could be considered luxuries), nothing excessive, at least on the surface. No wasted energy; everything efficient and practical for use. But Metis didn’t please her, because of all of the hidden technology, so hidden as to seem magical. These wonders—the things like the miraculous “healing bed” that were so commonplace they could be wheeled into a bedroom!—could have truly led to freedom from capitalist oppression for the workers of the world. But the Metisians were hoarding them. It disgusted her. Especially when she thought about the comrades that had been lost…

  Those who have the ability to act, should. Those who do not, only support the actions of those who are evil. These Ivory Tower intellectuals are almost as culpable as the fascista themselves.

  Decision by consensus had also lost its attraction for her. Decision by consensus was what had enabled the Metisians to hide behind the white walls of their city, when they could have ended the conflict at the point of the first Invasion, or shortly thereafter. So many dead, so much loss…and every bit of it preventable.