Repercussions (Wearing the Cape Book 8)

by Marion G. Harmon

  Chapter Thirty

  Saint Michael, defender of man, stand with us in the day of battle.

  Saint Jude, giver of hope, be with us in our desperate hour.

  Saint Christopher, bearer of burdens, lift us when we fall.

  The Prayer for Heroes

  “Artemis is down!” Shell screamed in Sifu’s ear as an icon popped up on his helmet visor. “Take breachers and get there now!” Five doors and ten real-time seconds later Sifu blew the last door off with his shaped-charge knocker before dropping into hypertime a last time to check the room.

  Nothing moved in the machine-filled room. Three men lay messily dead, two in uniform and one instantly recognizable, in front of an empty platform. Artemis lay on her back. He cursed the air blue, dropping to his knees and out of hypertime.

  Fingers to the clean side of her neck. A pulse, then a choke and bubbling cough. A hand flipped up to push into the blood. “Dammit. Bitch— Shot me. Ascendant touched . . . She coughed again wetly. “Doctor gone?”

  “Nobody else here.”

  “Shit. Get us out of here.” One hand stayed on her neck, the other crept over her stomach dragging one of her weird Verne-tech guns. Sifu gathered the wounded vampire-girl up and followed orders, cursing the whole time.

  Locked with the structure, Sylvia couldn’t turn her head or even move her eyes but she’d positioned herself so most of her angle of vision took in the trees towards the impact zone. Mindfulness kept her focus on the lock; it wouldn’t do for her mind to wander and the lock to dissolve—not that restoring power to the base for only a second was likely to do anything, but you never knew. Meanwhile it was both scary and boring. Explosive combustion she guessed was dragon-flame rose over the trees. Which meant they were winning? Right?

  Movement in the trees caught her attention, and Oh. My. God. The green raced towards her, a tide of new-shooting and growing or healing trees, the churning the soil under twisting and thickening surface roots and then the green wall hit her to flow over her and the concrete lip like crashing waves over a rock. Don’t unlock don’t unlock don’t unlock don’t unlock!

  She couldn’t even close her eyes as the green entombed her.

  “Artemis is down Sifu’s extracting her!”

  Shell’s words froze Hope’s blood. “Kreiski?”

  “Shot her and ported out! Pellagrini’s dead!”

  Hope swallowed acid bile and forced herself to think. Kreiski’s turned and gone, Pellagrini’s dead, no force multiplier left for the Green Man and the rest, projectors smashed, RF army-involvement confirmed, Langer’s location unconfirmed, plan plan plan plan—

  “The Green Man’s attacking Sif!”

  Her eyes snapped to her right, to the woods beyond the hill. “They’re done in there! Pull everyone inside to a single position and hold it!”

  “On it! Sifu has Artemis at designated hold point!”

  Relief felt distant behind the icy wall of her combat-brain. Terraflore floundered below her, a titan of fire and scales sinking below an inexorable green tide Hope couldn’t clear fast enough. Ceres, the Green Man, had made the birch, aspen, and pine-covered hill her place of power, a trap they’d blown their way into.

  But she hadn’t attacked Terraflore until Joyeuse Guard’s assault was well underway. She should have been the first line of defense. Joyeuse Guard had achieved complete surprise. It didn’t make sense, unless—

  Ceres was hurt. Stunned by pain? Knocked out? The green was certainly recoiling from Terraflore’s blasts of dragonflame but the air was moist—rain had swept through recently and the green was far from dry so the fire wasn’t spreading beyond the titanic dragon’s ground-burns. She can be hurt but there’s too much of her, how can we—

  “Shell get Malmsturm out here now!” Hope dove for runners reaching for the jet as a Galatea popped out of the broken hull to unload a swarm of incendiary missiles on the advancing green. A swirl of sleeting ice rose from the breach they’d made and the hulking, bearded ice giant stood beside her, red-dripping axes ready.

  “The fight is below!” he rumbled, sides heaving and eyes practically sparkling. Dammit he’s probably been competing with Morrigan for kills. Hope poked him with Joyeuse, pointing up the hill at the thrashing trees.

  “We need the malmsturm—the true grind-storm! Kill! The! Hill!”

  Storm-grey eyes turned to her, disbelieving, and then the blue giant laughed. “Yes! The grind-storm! The very breath of coldest winter!” Dropping his bloody axes, he leaped and didn’t come down, rising into sleet, snow, a howl of wind that grew and grew as it strengthened until the earth vibrated and the sky disappeared into white and sleeting vortex-winds that could scour earth from stone.

  “Tell Kindrake to get Terraflore to hunker down!” Hope yelled—not that the dragon needed to hear that.

  “It’ll only last minutes!” Shell yelled back. “And then he’s done! He’ll be just Konrad!”

  “And the Green Man will be down again! Find Ceres! If we can’t find her, we evacuate before she can revive and—” Hope stopped, her cape whipping sideways in the hurricane-level wind. “She hated being inside. Remember Restormel? She grew the roof-garden, she’d absolutely hate being under this hill, surrounded by steel and concrete. She’s on the hill!” Hope launched herself into the storm. “Give me GPS! Where’s the top of the—”

  Langer came out of the storm, flying up from now-invisible ground but she felt him first, the cold of the grind-storm plunging into her bones.

  “Shell, he’s here! He’s here!” She fought to breathe under the weight.

  “Drop!”

  Hope dropped as a swarm of Shell’s rockets blasted through her position, seeking heat and ignoring hers. Explosions percussed her ears, almost unheard over the tearing winds, and the black armored bulk staggered in air above her. Ignoring her savage elation at the sight, Hope fixed her eyes on Langer as darkness beat at her brain—“—and loud they sang and loud they sang / they sang to wake the dead!”—and fell into the pit. Prepared, this time.

  She’d known despair before, knew what beat it, and Chakra had taught her how to fill her mind with her chosen thoughts, memories, and attached emotions—the only weapons a non-mentalist had against mental attack. She tightened her grip on Joyeuse and rose.

  “—and loud they sang and loud they sang—”

  Shelly called from the tree beside the playground, daring Hope to climb.

  “—and loud they sang and loud they sang—”

  Aaron and Josh and Toby buried her laughing beneath a huge pile of fragrant leaves.

  “—and loud they sang and loud they—”

  Her dad carried her off the playing field as she cried and cradled her throbbing knee.

  “—and loud they sang and loud—”

  Annabeth found her in the school library where she’d gone to cry by herself.

  “—and loud they sang and—”

  Kitsune tucked her cape about her as she stretched out in the café booth, running fingers through her hair.

  “—and loud they—”

  Love is patient, love is kind.

  She gripped Joyeuse with her full Atlas-strength.

  Love always protects, always trusts, always endures.

  The weight and cold receded, pushed by memory and words.

  Love never fails!

  Hope rose through the storm blotting out the world.

  Faith, hope, and love remain—

  Langer saw her and steadied, falling to meet her.

  --and the greatest of these is love!

  The enormous sword swept around and rang off Joyeuse. The shock of impact beat through her, and Joyeuse lit. The almost night darkness of the grind-storm turned to blinding white, illuminated by the opaline radiance burning in her hand and Langer hung in the light, a pit of black like a hole in the world. He was a wrongness that couldn’t exist.

  That wouldn’t exist.

  He fell on her again and Hope gripped Joyeuse with both hands, letti
ng his mass push her back and down. “What? Nothing to say?” She planted a two-footed kick against his armored chest that threw them apart.

  “Pellegrini wanted to rule the world! Ceres wants to save it!” She swung the burning star she held, battering his shield aside. His massive fist punched into her ribs, ringing on Vulcan’s armor as she let the blow carry her. “You just want to break it!” Up, swinging down, Joyeuse crashed into his shield again, warping it. His stupidly huge sword whistling above her head. She spun with the rebound, catching the edge of the shield and pushing it down to ring the bell of her weapon off his helmet.

  “Well buckle up! Because we—”

  Another sweep, this time against his sword at the cross-hilt. His metal fist spasmed open and it fell into the white around them. “—won’t—” Another hit to his helmet. “—let you!” She rained blow after blow on his head as they fell and then the ground smacked them hard. They bounced and rolled in shattered trees and ice and then the weight was gone, the cold no deeper than her skin.

  “We won’t—” came out as a whisper. She dragged in air. “We— Shell? I think he’s out.”

  “And I’m coming!” A Galatea dropped out of the weakening storm as Joyeuse dimmed, field kit in hand. Hope dropped to her knees beside Langer as her BF locked a ring around his neck and detonated it, fracturing the joint so she could pull off his helmet. Blood bubbled in his nose and came out of his ears, a sight Shell ignored as she snugged the somnolence-cap over his buzz cut and secured it. It barely fit over his large head.

  When the lights on the cap lit she brought out the shackles. “Windspeed’s dropping fast but the Green Man’s quiet, I’m sending Sifu up the hill—I think Ceres buried herself under a dome of twisted trees. I’m also going to go dig Sif out of the wood she’s buried under, and the rest of us are pushing in from the breach again—the dudes in the base are giving crap resistance now.”

  “Don’t let any of them get away. Jacky?”

  “I’m with her with a full field kit. Her body armor stopped most of the shots but one got her in the neck, oh the irony. Managed to mostly miss everything important, shredded her esophagus a bit, I’ve intubated and stopped the bleeding, put her out with a cap.” She patted Langer’s head. “Works better than drugs.”

  Hope got to her feet, Joyeuse hanging loose in her hand. “I’ll go down there, help with the finish.” The last gust died and the blue sky broke open above them, letting the sun in on a world of shattered and iced trees. Nothing moved. Below them on the hill, Terraflore unfolded like a rock formation standing up, shaking off his ice covering and breaking his frozen bonds to stretch halfway to the sky. Hope smiled at the sight. “Take him with you for Ceres. Yell if you need me.”

  She went down the hill.

  Epilogue

  Hope flew them all out, easily strong enough to lift the inflatable platform they extracted from the jet’s hold. Covered and equipped with flight-grips, it had been designed for helicopter and Atlas-Type lift, even streamlined for a little speed. Flying south, Hope took them across the Russian Federation’s disputed border with Kazakhstan before sunset. Coming in low and slow, conscious of the base’s surface-to-air missile battery despite their radio’d welcome, she brought them down in the Heroes Without Borders base outside Kokshetau.

  A team of medics rushed the platform the instant it touched down. Shell’d let them know what injuries to expect—Jacky needed serious treatment as soon as possible, and so did a couple of the prisoners they’d taken. A stocky man in military BDU pants and a white leather jacket with a blue-and-red cross touched each of them before waving the carrying attendants off to the tents, followed by one of Shell’s Galateas. He approached Hope.

  “Pararescue, call me Chris.” He shook her hand, weathered features crinkling. “US Army reservist with the 910th when it mobilizes abroad, this is my first HWB tour. Artemis is going to be fine—we’ve got great surgeons with tons of battle-trauma experience here.”

  “You’re sure? She’s a regenerator, but she’s been temporarily depowered.”

  “It’s one of my gifts—my ‘life-sense.’ Pretty common among healer-types. You guys got her stable enough she’s barely a Priority 3. Nobody here’s a Priority 2.”

  The hard knot of anxiety that had ridden in Hope’s chest for the past hours, despite Shell’s assurances, finally loosened. “We left the most badly injured with their own medic when we called it in to the Russian Federation. The RF military should have had an airborn-recovery team out to them before we got here.”

  “They did,” Shell confirmed. “And the RF’s not happy we speed-demolished everything useful after salvaging the base hard-drives. The diplomatic games have officially begun.”

  Chris couldn’t hear Shell, but he nodded at Hope’s information. “So, nobody on your team’s walking wounded? No patch-and-fly jobs you need us to look at before your ride gets here? When does your ride get here?”

  Taking her helmet off, Hope massaged her scalp. “We’ve got a few nicks and punctures but we came prepared for that and we’re good.” Sif might need a little therapy—Hope wondered if her brief but suspenseful entombment might leave the cape from Maine with claustrophobia. “And we have US Army airlift coming from Xinjiang tomorrow. They have a defense agreement with the League, so there’s a base there.”

  From there they’d go their separate ways: Kukkuu, Morrigan, and Malmsturm, back to Europe, the rest of them eastward to Japan and then home. Where Eric will go back to jail. He’d been amazing and it didn’t seem right.

  “Good.” Pararescue shook her hand again, cutting her wandering short as she blinked. “No offense, but from the little I know the prisoners you have with you are shit-magnets. Not what we want in an HWB haven. We’d deal with it, but . . .”

  “I know.” She shook her head to clear it. She was more tired than she’d thought. “Neutrality and aid. Can’t deliver the aid without the neutrality. Thank you.”

  “Field aids will feed you and settle you in, head over to the green tents. Good luck.” He turned and strode away, and Hope looked at everyone around her. “You heard him, everyone. There’s hots and cots waiting for us. Galatea’s got our prisoners, and I’ll join you in a few.”

  Hope watched them go (Ozma and Grendel walking shoulder-to-shoulder, a sight that made her smile), then turned and walked across the open field to stand in shadow. She breathed in the crisp night air. Kokshetau wasn’t a big city, and a hill blocked most of it from line-of-sight of the base, so with almost no light-pollution to Hope’s super-vision the Milky Way shone in a broad arc above the horizon. She took a minute to just enjoy it. “Shell?”

  And she was there, dressed in a grass skirt and a top of floral leis. “I vote for getting off in Hawaii. It’s going to be a circus back home.”

  Hope managed to keep her face straight. “Both of you promise not to wear that there, and maybe we finish our vacation on Kaua’i after cleanup’s done. When we’ve buried our dead. Updates?”

  “Outside of the cyberattack lead-in, Tokyo escaped the attack completely. After Brussels, Defensenet disconnected Japan’s Big Damn Weapon Systems from external control so that attack got blocked. Touches Cloud let me know the EU is matching the bounties the US put on the perpetrators of the Chicago and Brussels attacks, which is great since we’re not getting our deposit on the jet back. I’ve decrypted enough from the hard-drives we took to know where to find the cyberkinetic who hit the cities and the lab that brewed the Berserker Virus—and now Touches Clouds knows so our job there is done. Also, Eric just refused a beer. Your dad’s talking to your mom right now and everyone back home’s good. Kitsune says since it will be a couple days till you get back he’ll just stalk your mom. You gotta like a boyfriend who’s not clingy.”

  “And I’ve got to love an omniscient BF.”

  Shell frowned and shook her skirt, making the dry grass swish. “Hardly that. Shelly and I really should have seen a lot of this coming. But Joyeuse Guard’s first mission was a succ
ess. Most of the team were one-timers, but we might have a solid lineup out of this. Unless you want to go back? To the Sentinels? I’m sure after all this there’s going to be some serious restructuring of the CAI-State relationship, so it could happen.”

  Hope’s breath caught, but she shook her head. “I don’t think we can. It . . . doesn’t fit anymore? Things are changing. I don’t think we can be a city-team that moonlights. And then there’s Ozma. I signed up to be half of the Army of Oz and that’s going to get exciting now. We’ll work on it.”

  “And Joyeuse? And Michael?”

  Hope held her hand out and the battle maul filled it, settling in her grip. It hadn’t lit again, in the final action in the base, but she’d found that if she dropped or threw it and wanted it back it came. It didn’t fly back, it was just there in her hand, one more miracle-property of the thing. “I’ve decided he believes what he told me. And I believe that he’s good. I believe that in this world anyone can burn a miracle bush and I can’t believe anything just on that. But I can hope.”

  For once Shell ignored the tired pun. “We’re going to need a lot of that. Things are changing. Getting more dangerous.”

  “So we’ll get more dangerous. Everyone worked together on this. We’ll work together again. Now I’m going to go find out what the hots here taste like. And what the cots feel like. Coming?” With a last look at the stars, Hope turned and headed for the tents where she could hear her friends.

  Appendix: The Post-Event World

  For anyone concerned that Repercussions could be the final book in the Wearing the Cape series . . . no. There’s a long way to go, yet. However, Repercussions does mark “the end of the beginning” in some ways. It completes Astra’s first big career arc, taking her from a newbie sidekick to a seasoned leader in three short years of her life. It also completes her arc from teenager to full adult. This doesn’t mean there won’t be more happening in Chicago and with familiar characters, but her situation has changed and the situations of associated characters are changing quickly.