Avalanche: Book Five in the Secret World Chronicle

by Lackey, Mercedes

  * * *

  Requiem

  Mercedes Lackey, Dennis Lee and Veronica Giguere

  How do you humans endure such helplessness and still remain sane? You must be so very strong…

  The gathering of ECHO personnel and government brass made Spin Doctor’s planned memorial a security and logistics nightmare. The catastrophe that had collapsed the MARTA tunnels in downtown Atlanta and made more ECHO funerals necessary had remained fresh in the minds of the public. Those who braved the crowds went through a multitude of security checkpoints, but they still came en masse to pay their respects to Dixie Belle. For hours, people from all walks of life filed into the Georgia Dome to walk past the simple coffin draped with an American flag, guarded by ECHO personnel in full dress uniform. Some paused for a brief moment while others simply shuffled past in respectful silence. More than a few small children accompanied parents or grandparents, following the adults’ somber lead.

  By the middle of the afternoon, the only empty seats in the megastadium were on the stage or in the areas reserved for government dignitaries. Ramona stayed close to the tunnel entrance, making sure that she had an eye on Pride at all times. President Shreeves would take his seat shortly before the ceremony began, but his people continued to survey their assigned areas and chat with their security coordinators. She hadn’t seen Spin Doctor since that morning, but the low buzz of chatter on Overwatch let her know that everything was still proceeding on schedule.

  At least the weather had cooperated for the memorial. The “old guard” of ECHO had come, their section guarded by several members of the CCCP. Soviette stood in dress uniform next to Chug, whose bulk made it impossible for anyone to even consider approaching the dignitaries. Six of the ECHO canines that reported to Leader of the Pack padded up and down the aisles, respectfully alert to any possible threat. A few shadows swooped across the sky, Corbie coordinating the aerial reconnaissance even as helicopters swung over the stadium in long looping patterns.

  No John Murdock or Seraphym. They had been sent after a frantic call from Venezuela, asking for their help in protecting a cadre of Metisians. The few metahumans in that country had barely repulsed one effort to take or kill them, and they did not think they were capable of handling a second. With their new supersonic flight, they could be there in mere hours, faster even than jet transport. They’d left shortly before Dixie Bell had been found dead.

  Ramona wished they were here. I’d feel a lot better seeing those fireballs in the sky.

  “It is a shame that she could not be here to see such a display, but I am certain that she knew of this city’s love for her.” The warm Russian baritone startled Ramona such that she felt the metal rise to the surface of her skin. She turned to see the older gentleman in a Cold War-era CCCP dress uniform standing close to the tunnel. He smiled, and she could see hints of the same wolfish expression that Natalya sometimes wore. “Then again, it is unlikely she would have wanted such grandeur for herself.”

  Ramona opened her mouth to speak, but Pride had overheard the comment. She watched him force his shoulders back before tucking the handwritten notes for the eulogy into his jacket pocket. “Unlikely, but she always did what was necessary. ‘Sacrifice before self,’ those were her words.”

  “A pity that she had to sacrifice so much.” The first Red Saviour bowed at the waist and offered his hand to Yankee Pride. “Please accept my nation’s condolences on the loss of such a remarkable woman.”

  Pride accepted the handshake and nodded, his words absent of the emotion that had overwhelmed him for much of the week. “Thank you, sir.”

  The Russian meta didn’t let go. “And my sympathies on your loss, Benjamin. Your mother and I may have not always been on the same sides of the negotiating table, but I remember her spirit fondly. The only pity was that she was not born Russian.” He winked before releasing the hand.

  Ramona breathed a small sigh of relief when Pride’s mouth quirked into the faintest of smiles. “White and blue complimented her red better than gold, sir.”

  “That they did.” He nodded at the tunnel. “I will take my seat before the memorial begins, but there are many good stories to share some day, if you would like.”

  They watched him walk out onto the field, Pride letting out a shaky breath. She patted him on the shoulder. “One more hour, maybe two. You will ride with Spin and me to Marietta National for the private ceremony, and we’ll fall apart after that. I promise a stupid sloppy drunkfest if that would dull any of the pain.”

  He wiped at his eyes. “Momma did like you, you know. She said you had something good, something smart. She’d definitely approve of that plan.”

  Ramona started to say something, but Spin’s voice slid into her ear. “Two minutes, ladies and gentlemen. The President’s detail is moving into position, after which Steel Maiden will position opposite the CCCP detail at the dais. We’ll have the color guard come in, followed by Reverend Freeman and Yankee Pride. We’re ready?”

  She waited for others to chime in first before giving her go-ahead. “Affirmative, Spin.”

  “Excellent. Ladies and gentlemen, only our very best for Miss Dixie Belle.”

  * * *

  The weather was not cooperating with the memorial. Instead of appropriately overcast skies and a biting mist of rain, a cool breeze accompanied warm sunshine that made the Georgia afternoon nothing less than pleasant. From where she stood, Ramona couldn’t see an empty seat in the entire stadium. The contrails from the aerial salute had faded to pale wisps while notable members of ECHO and the Atlanta community took their turns in Spin Doctor’s carefully orchestrated memorial service. Both Yankee Pride and Jamaican Blaze sat on the dais with the pastor of the church that Dixie Belle had attended every Sunday since her retirement from full service with ECHO. Bella sat on Pride’s left, blue hands folded in her lap and a calm expression on her face. Ramona had little doubt that Bella’s projective empathic power was the only reason that Willa Jean had managed to slow her tears to a trickle.

  The cameras panned across the assembled guests during the speeches, transmitting their reactions to the big screens circling the stadium and the television stations carrying the memorial on the live feeds. Knowing Spin’s planning, Ramona guessed that it was likely being livestreamed through any number of online sites. It would be impossible for anyone in Atlanta’s metro area to not see the memorial.

  Anything to keep a positive image of ECHO in the public’s mind, she thought. She took a deep breath and glanced at the groups of metahumans in the first few rows on the field. Some of the most stoic souls did little to hide their grief, while others maintained their composure with a quiet dignity she hadn’t thought possible. Motu and Matai wept openly, tears streaming down their cheeks when an elderly Samoan gentleman stood and told a story about his first encounter with Dixie. None of the assembled CCCP members openly wept, but Ramona caught Pavel sniffle once or twice. Had he ever met Dixie Belle? He was likely old enough, but she hadn’t thought to ask the Bear about his service during what they all called the Great Patriotic War. Perhaps one of these days…

  The feed to the screen flickered once, then returned to scanning the crowd. Although most of the metahumans wore formal dress uniforms or simple black suits, the civilians who had come to pay their respects had worn red, white, and blue. It made for a decidedly celebratory atmosphere in spite of the somber afternoon. She wasn’t sure if that was something else that Spin had communicated, but it definitely worked. Dixie would have liked it, she thought.

  The camera panned again, the image showing the twins again. Reverend Freeman had taken the podium for the last of the introductions while Yankee Pride wiped his eyes and smoothed the front of his suit. Spin had insisted that he give the eulogy, that it would demonstrate strength in the midst of a sorrowful event. Ramona worried that he wouldn’t manage more than a few words before breaking down, but eventually it had been two against one, and she agreed to stand nearby.

  She glanced at the t
wins, then back to the screen. The image above the field showed Motu with his arm around his brother’s shoulders. Forty feet away from where she stood, Motu leaned forward, his head bowed and elbows on his knees. Ramona swallowed and brought her hand up to wipe at her eyes. “Overwatch,” she murmured. “There’s a delay in the cameras. We might want to check—”

  Ramona straightened up as dots of black and gray appeared in the field of red, white, and blue within the Georgia Dome. Her HUD began to flicker in the lower left corner of her vision, and she immediately glanced at Bella. Her posture hadn’t changed, but she inclined her head toward Ramona. “Something’s in the grass,” Ramona murmured over the secure channel. “We’ve got over seventy-one thousand people in this stadium, and there’s something in the grass.”

  “I see it,” Bella breathed. “Overwatch?”

  No reply came over the proprietary channel. Ramona switched to the general channel used by most of ECHO. “Overwatch, please reply.”

  “Sam Colt, ma’am. Overwatch Two isn’t responding.”

  “We’ve got unknowns in the area among civilians. I need you to appropriate any and all security cameras within the Georgia Dome and a three-mile radius to see what you can learn about who’s crashing the memorial.” Ramona shifted away from the dais to get a better view of the stadium seating. She counted at least fifteen figures in black combat fatigues in one aisle. While she couldn’t see any weapons, her implants told her otherwise.

  “Ma’am, we’re experiencing an unknown interference with the cameras at the Georgia Dome. It appears that they’re using an iterative encryption algorithm, and we can’t get in as easily as we’d like. It’s going to take more than a few ticks.”

  More of the assembled metas had noticed what Ramona and Bella had seen in the stands. Even Yankee Pride, who had spent much of the first five minutes of his mother’s eulogy with his head bowed over the podium, had slowed his speech as more of the mercenaries filled the aisles of the stadium. Finally, he looked out over the crowd and took a deep breath.

  “Gentlemen,” he drawled in a tone equal parts anger and grief, “is there something that you need during this somber celebration of my mother’s life?”

  “Oh, they don’t need anything,” came the reply through the stadium’s speakers. Seconds later, the image of Dominic Verdigris appeared on every screen in the Georgia Dome. He stood in front of an enormous banner for the local football franchise inside what looked like an opulent suite. “On the other hand, I have a few requests to which you and your extended meta family will be only too happy to acquiesce.”

  * * *

  Given her novel metahuman ability, Ramona considered if she actually could spit nails if she got angry enough. This would be the ideal scenario, with Verdigris’ grinning countenance looming over the assembled masses gathered to pay their respects to Dixie Belle. Pride stood at the podium, gauntlets pulsing a brassy golden color.

  Bella stood behind him, eyes scanning the crowd while carrying on a rapid-fire conversation via Overwatch. “Total count of the armed mercenaries, boys? We need precise numbers and we need them now.”

  “Ma’am, we’ve managed to appropriate a third of the cameras in the field area and around the perimeter. Last count gives us nearly three hundred, but we can’t see anything on the inside.”

  “Any luck on interrupting the feed that’s projecting Verdigris to the masses?” Bella growled the name. “The sooner we get him off the air, the better.”

  Granting Bella’s wish wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Verdigris smiled and gestured to the tens of thousands of people below. “It seems only fitting that on a day when we celebrate everything that Dixie Belle did for ECHO and the good people of Atlanta, we should consider how those people who represent her legacy can serve those who came to honor her memory.” He clasped his hands in front of his face, the knuckle of a forefinger tapping thoughtfully against his nose. “I’m sure that you, her son, will appreciate this gesture.”

  “Today, I am asking the metahumans of ECHO to consider the ultimate sacrifice in order to save the people who have looked to them for protection. The individuals stationed at strategic locations throughout the stadium are here to provide a measure of persuasion.” The smirk returned, tugging the corners of his mouth into a wide smile.

  Pride gripped the sides of the podium. The aura from his gauntlets gave his face an angry glow. “And what makes you think that any meta here wouldn’t put themselves between your thugs and these innocents? It’s happened before, hasn’t it? You use your personal army to hold the city hostage and inflict pain to satisfy your own twisted agenda.”

  The image on the jumbotron smiled and wagged a finger at the assembly. “No fair changing the subject, Benjamin. We’re talking about the present situation and the lives of more than seventy thousand people. Given those numbers, it would behoove you to pay attention.”

  “Ma’am, it looks like the system is actively blocking our attempts. It’s gonna take a bit longer to find where this snake is hiding.”

  “We need this shut down yesterday, and we need control of the cameras,” Bella ground out between clenched teeth. “Keep him talking, Pride.”

  The gauntlets around his forearms pulsed. “All right, Mr. Verdigris. You have our undivided attention. The stage is yours.”

  The image on the screen feigned embarrassment. “Why, Yankee Pride. Such flattery. Now you’ve made me camera-shy. I can’t possibly think straight, knowing that all of Atlanta is staring.” The screen winked out although the speakers continued to broadcast his voice. “I’ll just have to trust that my melodious narrative will compel you to listen.”

  “Spit and horsehair, it’s disappeared! We nearly had it!”

  “We’re listening,” Pride snarled. “You have our undivided attention.”

  “How gracious of you. Now, as I said before, today is the day when the metahumans of ECHO will have the unparalleled opportunity to make the ultimate sacrifice to save the people of Atlanta. Should any of you refuse, each one of the uniformed individuals around the facility will execute a person every minute, making this funeral more than just a single-person remembrance.” Verdigris paused for effect. Ramona imagined him leaning back and steepling his fingers beneath his smarmy smile.

  “That’s at least three hundred civilians, based on what we could get before the cameras were compromised. Still working on getting that feed back, ma’am.”

  Pride continued to glare at the empty jumbotron screen. “And what is this ultimate sacrifice that you envision? Each one of the members of ECHO has placed themselves in harm’s way in order to preserve the safety of these people, or have you forgotten the events of the past few years?”

  “Oh, I’m certain that no one in this proud assembly could ever forget the day that an alien invasion targeted cities that were chock full of metahumans representing different organizations and government interests. There they were, minding their own business, enjoying a frosty beverage at the local watering hole while watching whatever sportsball team they support, when suddenly they were the bloody bystanders in a war that they couldn’t begin to fight or even comprehend.” The screen flickered to show footage from the very first Invasion, images from around the world when the Death Spheres and Kriegers tore through cities and decimated industry and commerce centers. Around the stadium, a low murmur provided the soundtrack for the otherwise silent film.

  “To be fair, the people of Atlanta have sacrificed plenty for metahuman security,” Verdigris offered, “which is why my proposal shouldn’t take too much contemplation. You see, I’m not asking you to die. Not all over, at least.” Another long pause gave those assembled time to whisper among each other. Ramona could see a few of the CCCP in attendance conferring among themselves, the rapid-fire chatter of Russian in her ear lending a second layer to the conversation. “You’ll get to keep that which makes you human.”

  “He can’t,” Bella said. “That can’t be possible. Gentlemen, where in the hell is my vi
deo feed and why can’t we get a location on this slimy parasite three minutes ago?”

  Ramona didn’t catch the Colt Brothers’ response. The whirring sound of the dome moving along the multiple tracks had caught the attention of the entire stadium, and the sky slowly disappeared as the steel and polymer construction slid into place. The post-Invasion modification had been a priority for the city to bring in more events, but Ramona found herself wishing for an open sky and a torrential downpour.

  “Provided that you agree to this noble sacrifice, this venue will slowly fill with a highly potent chemical, dispensed in a manner that, for obvious reasons, I will keep to myself. Patent pending, you know. This chemical will be completely harmless to those regular Joes and Janes, but it will quickly and effectively nullify the effects of metahuman genes that any of you possess. You’ll live,” Verdigris added. “Of course, if your non-meta bodies are unable to withstand the physical consequences of immediate genetic suppression, I can’t make any promises.”

  The jumbotron flickered, the image of a smoking downtown cityscape providing a backdrop to the challenge. It was impossible to ignore the bodies littering the street in the foreground. “So, your minute begins when I finish speaking, Yankee Pride. Everyone must agree, or it’s three hundred of these likely expendable normals to fill the morgues of Atlanta every minute. How do you feel about signing that many death sentences, Benjamin?”

  A dull roar grew to a shouting match, the assembly shouting at the field as the seconds ticked by. In contrast, Overwatch stayed silent. Ramona glanced at Pride, who had not moved from the podium. Nearby, Bella glared at the screen with a mixture of hate and resolve. A quick review of the other metas on the ground showed similar expressions, fear being nearly absent from them.

  There would be no discussion. There would be no vote.

  “We agree to your terms.” Pride’s voice boomed over the speaker, his response rendering the crowd silent. The armed mercenaries did not move from their posts. “We agree.”