Invasion: Book One of the Secret World Chronicle-ARC

by Mercedes Lackey

  He tried to get up, that is. This woman was also stronger than she looked. Or he was weaker than he thought. She gently but firmly shoved him back down on the bed and held him there.

  “Since I just lied my ass off for you, buddy, the least you can do is glue your ass to this bed and heal,” she said, more good humor showing in her eyes than appeared in her voice. “I’m Bella. I am a telepath and an empath and I did not scan you, or at least, no more than I can help. But I needed to give Nat a reason to keep you here, and I don’t think she would have accepted the one I got.”

  John was having the feeling that events were rushing past him faster than he could keep up with them. All he could think of to do was to ask the question that occurred to him with her last sentence. “An’ what would that reason be?”

  “That an angel told me to heal you, save you, keep you here and keep you safe.” The absolutely sober expression she wore made the words hit him like a gut punch.

  This Bella—she had seen the angel too? And talked to her? But if another person had seen her, did that make her—real?

  “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out you’re in trouble, laddie-buck,” the medic continued. “The angel seemed to think you’d fit in with this motley crew here. Now, Nat and Sovie both reacted to those scars of yours, as if they had seen something like them. Add to that you survived a gut stab that would have put John Q. Public on a slab, that you have been keeping a profile so low you’re looking up at ants’ bellies, and that someone seriously wanted you out of the way, I can add two and two as well as anyone. Scars plus all the rest of it says high dollar implants to me, and that says government program. The fact that you aren’t running around either with Echo or some Army goon squad tells me you’ve escaped them, and you don’t want them to know you’re still around.”

  He was ice-cold inside. Even if she hadn’t read his mind, she was good. Smart. He was in no shape to kill her and run; he didn’t want to kill her anyway, and he couldn’t run right now…

  So he just kept quiet.

  “Here’s my point, cowboy,” she continued quietly. “Someone out there, someone absolutely extraordinary, wants you as alive as whoever you were running from wanted you dead. And if I were to assess your situation, there is one thing that stands out. I don’t think you can run and bury yourself again. So that means you have two choices. You can get friends and allies, or you can run and die like a lone wolf—a ‘nekulturny running dog,’ as the parlance around here goes.” She shrugged, but her eyes were compassionate and understanding. “There would be worse people you could take up with than CCCP. They share a lot of points of philosophy with you, if you are what you say you are. And they are extraordinarily loyal to their own.” Now she took her hand away. “So for right now I am going to leave you and let you think that over. I need to—make a quick inventory of the supplies.”

  He nodded although he got a sense that she was going to do more than that. And when she left him alone with his thoughts, he found himself turning what she had said over and over and finding very few flaws in it.

  And that…was terrifying.

  Chapter Fifteen:

  When Push Comes To Shove

  Mercedes Lackey, Steve Libbey and Cody Martin

  “…so I’m not exactly persona non grata, but I am also not the most welcome face at Echo right now,” Belladonna shrugged.

  “For doing what needed to be done?” Saviour snorted. “This is sounding familiar to me.”

  Bella kept any comments to herself. “Well, they can’t fire me, not when they’re sending out recruiters to pull in petty metacriminals and giving them a chance to reform, redeem themselves, and join the happy family. We’re stuck with each other.”

  Bella was loitering here for a reason, hoping to be able to bring up the subject of John Murdock. She’d been visited by the enigmatic Seraphym twice now since the man had dragged himself to the CCCP headquarters. Both times Seraphym had made it emphatically clear that John was somehow important, that he was in danger still…and that he needed to be with CCCP. Why? Well, angels weren’t prone to giving reasons. And you know, you just don’t march up to one and demand an explanation either. Well, Saviour might, but…

  A man’s gruff voice interrupted. “So, where’s the chow hall in this joint? Hospital food ain’t my normal board.”

  Well, speak of the devil, just the subject I wanted to bring up. Bella looked up to see Murdock standing in the doorframe. He looked groggy, clutching bandages at his side and rubbing sand out of his eyes. “Anyone there? I heard talkin’.”

  “We are in meeting. You are leaving room now.” Red Saviour’s tone was dismissive, and brooked no dissent.

  “Thanks for the hospitality, but I’m not really feelin’ up to taking orders. Didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

  “Commissar, I asked him to talk to you. Murdock, a little respect for the Commissar, if you please.” Bella tried to radiate calm, the way Jadwiga did.

  Red Saviour shrugged and fastened a glare on Murdock. “Very well, you are talking to me.”

  He shrugged as well, still holding his side. “Well, chow hall seems to be out of the question. With your leave, I’d like to get my stuff and scoot, unless there’s any more business for me here.”

  Bella cast her eyes up to the ceiling. “Give me strength,” she muttered. She turned towards Saviour, her expression now one of respectful conciliation. “Commissar, with all due respect…you’re undermanned here and the only ‘trusty native guide’ you have is me. And I belong to Echo. I suggest you consider offering Murdock a place here, with the CCCP, as an ally at least. Someone with eyes on the street.” There was a faint look of distaste on Murdock’s face when she mentioned Echo. Good.

  Then Bella turned to Murdock. She raised one eyebrow. “You think like these people. You have a lot in common. I suggest you consider hooking up here. Take advantage of common goals.”

  John looked plainly skeptical, but held his tongue. Red Saviour’s face took on the identical expression. She folded her arms and scowled deeper.

  “You ask me for very much trust, Comrade Bella. CCCP is Russian organization, led by Russian, for Russians. And Moscow has promised me sturdy Russian backup as soon as paperwork clears”—she waved a hand in the air—“which, I am admitting, could be next year.”

  “Which means you need people now, Saviour. Especially given what we have just been discussing.” Bella’s expression turned grim. “Neither you nor I think that the frickin’ Space Nazis got scared and ran away. Three pop-ups say otherwise.” And I haven’t told you everything yet…

  “Da. The lessons of Great Patriotic War are not so quickly forgotten in my country as they are here. This is why all-powerful Supernaut force guards Mother Russia.” She snorted in contempt. “Meanwhile, I am running nekulturny soup kitchen for homeless capitalists.” The Commissar leaned forward. “Comrade Murdock. What can you offer me to justify my trust? I am wanting to hear from your mouth, not blue girl’s.”

  “Largely depends, for starters, on whatcha need, and second, what you folks can provide for me and mine.”

  “Yours? You are having family? No pets, no childrens, that is rule.”

  “No family; folks died in this last attack, as far as I know. I’m watching a neighborhood that’s sorta isolated from the rest of the city. If I’m gonna sign on with y’all, I’m gonna need assurances that they won’t be left out in the cold.”

  “You walked here; it can’t be that far. Whose store centers it?” Bella, having worked with the Hog Farmers, knew most of the cut-off areas like the back of her hand.

  “The one at the corner of Elm and Lee. Run by an old fella named Jonas. He’s been the one that’s been helping me organize the neighborhood, get folks working together to pull through this mess.”

  Bella turned to the map pinned on the office wall and tapped her finger on an area that had been outlined in pale pink marker. “Here, Saviour. That one of yours?”

  “I have made
overtures to locals, but I am, as you say, small staffed. I cannot send Chug out to do, er, sane human being’s work. He frightens children.” Red Saviour pursed her lips. “He frightens armies, too. But let us ask him in person. Chug!” Her shout made the room jump. “Davay, davay!”

  As if he had been eavesdropping, the stony creature lumbered into the room, brushing both shoulders against the doorframe. “Hullo, Commissar.”

  Red Saviour snapped her fingers at him as if she were summoning a dog to her side. In Russian, she said, “This American is interested in staying with us. Do you like him?”

  Chug fidgeted. “I dunno.”

  “Take a long look at him,” she continued. “Do you think he could be your friend? Perhaps join you at the park for a stroll with the squirrels?”

  “I like the squirrels,” Chug said, perking up. “I think they would like him, too.”

  “Aha.” Red Saviour switched to English. “You have passed the squirrel test, comrade. Do not ask what that means. I want you to brief me on situation in College Park.”

  John scratched his head, sighing. He walked in front of the map, making a V with his fingers around the pin Bella had placed in it. “The Park got cut off from the surrounding area by two destruction corridors that followed a couple of roads on the periphery. Power is still out in about a quarter of it, so folks have jury-rigged it or have generators going. Clean water is being brought in where city water ain’t workin’, and some of the hydrants still work, but it’s a hassle. There’s a community garden that we’ve started up, but it’ll take some time before it produces even a percentage of what folks need, and there are a couple dozen lawn gardens. We got the street toughs wrangled into protecting most of those. Everything else is being given on good faith by the stores in the area, by what Hog Farm is bringing in, or what’s been scavenged. It’s in bad shape, but the folks are making do as best they can with what they have.” He turned back to face Saviour. “Crime isn’t a real problem, but it won’t stay that way.”

  “No incursions by the Rebs?” A slow, devious smile had begun to spread on Red Saviour’s face.

  “None so far. Small-time crap by local thugs looking to take advantage…and a few high-paid outsiders. Anybody that’s caused trouble hasn’t lasted long enough to keep on causin’ trouble.”

  Red Saviour stepped up to the map. She traced a line from the destruction corridors to Echo headquarters, then to her own. “I am sensing power vacuum. Reb activity in our district has escalated in last two weeks, with more extortings and hate attackings. This, I am thinking, is being prelude to push into new territory. Right in backyard of Echo but they are doing nothing because Rebs are not metahuman.”

  “Scum are scum, but Echo has their set of priorities. Poor folks don’t necessarily rate all that high.”

  She nodded. “We can prepare them for siege. People’s Blade is knowing these streets well enough. Perhaps you will show me yours?”

  “That’s workable. Do ya really think that the Rebs would push towards my neighborhood that soon? What kinda numbers are we talking about?”

  “I believe Americans are capable of all manners of idiocy, at all scales.” At that moment, Red Saviour looked just like a frowny, crotchety old man. “Our best guess, two hundred foot soldiers.”

  John shook his head. “Way outta my league, especially if they’re armed the way rumors paint them to be. So, what’s the deal? I show ya the situation, and we go from there?”

  “You show me situation, da. Then I decide what we shall do, and then we are executing plan.” She rolled her eyes. “I am sure I am receiving many advices from American comrades.”

  “You can cut down on how much unsolicited interference you get by deciding now on who you talk to, Commissar,” Bella pointed out.

  “Shto? I am not understanding you.”

  “You can say ‘I only interface via blue girl’ and make it stick. That controls what they can get out of you and I control what you get out of them, including grief. You take Murdock here for your community interface; Murdock, you do the same. They never get a chance to try and pull anything out of you, because he’s your face-man.”

  Red Saviour barked out a laugh. “And I thought Americans were simple-minded. This is being as convoluted as Moscow bureaucracy. Is first time I have felt at home in overheated hellhole.” She reached into her pocket for a Proletarskie cigarette and lit up. Great, pungent clouds of tobacco smoke wafted to the ceiling. “This is plan I can follow. Comrade Murdock, does it meet with your approval?”

  “Ain’t any harm in it, so far as I can see. It’ll work.” He didn’t sound completely convinced, but appeared willing enough to go along and agree for the moment.

  “Can we go to the park now?” Chug, forgotten until this moment, spoke up in Russian.

  Bella’s face softened; she looked almost angelic. “I’ll take you, Chug,” she replied in the same language. “The nice man is hurt and needs to lie down. Later today, I promise.”

  “Nyet, I forbid it.” Red Saviour brushed Bella’s offer aside with a wave of her cigarette. “He is no dog to walk around in grass. Chug can lift city bus—then eat it. Let Soviette accompany him.”

  If Saviour intended to offend her, she didn’t succeed; Bella laughed. “And who do you think Jadwiga’s had in charge of him for the last four days? I’m only a medic, I can’t do surgery or prescribe. I haven’t taken him as far as the park yet, but he’s been doing a helluva job on urban renewal at my direction.”

  “I am fearing babysitting bill from Echo. Are you not having job? But very well.” The Commissar’s harsh expression mellowed. “And spasibo.”

  Bella kept her grin strictly internal. As she had suspected, Saviour had a soft spot for the strange, childlike creature. There was a story there…one day, she’d get it out of Jadwiga. “No babysitting bill, and no, I am still doing my Echo shifts. But since the invasion I only seem to need about three hours of sleep in twenty-four. What am I supposed to do, play video games?”

  John interrupted. “Well, this has been enlightening, but I figure that I’m going to go pass out again for a while. Better on a hospital bed than the floor.” He nodded to Chug. “Nice meeting ya…Chug’s his name, right? Right. Wake me up when we’re headin’ out to survey the neighborhood.” With that he shambled back toward the infirmary.

  Bella withdrew and put in a call to Vickie. It was short but sweet. “All right. All the ducks are in a row. Send that email, then get down here. The only way she’ll believe it, and respect us, is if we are right here to deal with her when she gets it.”

  * * *

  There were few places Red Saviour could escape the cacophony of Hensel’s construction workers. Hammering, bricks crashing down, the scream of steel being cut, and men shouting orders and retorts. The union men had made themselves at home in the CCCP headquarters. Some gave her and her comrades curious looks, as if they were the interlopers. The noise upset Chug in particular, who had curled himself into a nook in the basement like a hibernating bear.

  Red Saviour had no such luxury. Matters had to be conducted. And besides, she was about to do some shouting herself. That intruding little capitalist sorcerer girl had sent her an email that made her blood boil. And now Red Saviour Senior was about to get it in the teeth. She growled as she accessed the secure voice connection to Moscow.

  “No kindly greetings for your father, my Wolfling? Would you like to hear about my new girlfriend? You’d like her: she collects pistols.” Nikolai Shostakovich took on the usual bantering tone that he knew infuriated his daughter.

  “I don’t care if you are dating the Premier’s concubine herself. You have lied to me.” Natalya had started out loud and ended in a shout. It was a good thing this conversation was in Russian, otherwise people in Peachtree Square would be talking about it in fifteen minutes.

  She could almost hear his expansive shrug. “It is a politician’s job to lie. What lie in particular bothers you?”

  “This packet you sent me. It i
s full of nonsense culled from a child’s primer on the Great Patriotic War. Did you think I paid no attention in school?”

  “You were more interested in fisticuffs. But I thought the refresher would be helpful. You have much on your plate.”

  “Don’t patronize me. You and Uncle Boryets have your tricks and I see through them: unload a ream of useless information so that I will lose interest in the matter and busy myself with petty thieves. Meanwhile, I am getting better intelligence from nekulturny models and the heir to Rasputin!”

  There was a surprised pause. When her father resumed, his voice was not so smooth, not so controlled. “You…have something to do with a sorcerer?”

  “As little as possible, but apparently she is more useful to me than my own flesh and blood. What do you know about the death of Hitler? What do you know about the way the Nazi metas disappeared? What do you really know about the Thule Society?”

  “I know what you know. Hitler put a bullet into his head.”

  “Then I know that you are a liar.” There. It was out. The first time she had ever dared say that to her father’s face. She felt a fire burning deep in her gut and had to clamp down her powers as her fists flared briefly.

  Yet Nikolai didn’t rise to the challenge. In fact, he spoke in slow, kindly tones: “Something is upsetting you. Perhaps we should discuss this another time.”

  “Don’t you dare end this call until you have told me the truth.”

  Nikolai sighed. “It’s ancient history. Let it be.”

  “Swastikas trampled through Red Square. That wasn’t ancient. What are you withholding, Papa? Why?”

  “It was good to talk to you, Natalya.” He let the statement hang, the implication obvious. “I’m leaving the office now.” The line went dead.

  Natalya looked down at the computer screen. The cursor blinked at the end of the line, an email to the secure account that the magician should in no way have had access to. That she could…told Saviour that she was going to be even more useful than the Russian had thought. But the contents…