“Is Bea Arthur! Best pin-up! Come, see!” He laughed but didn’t get up. Ramona held her breath and waited for him to say something more. When she heard another cough, she continued down the hallway toward the closet that held the quantator.
Vickie’s magic had locked the closet for most of the CCCP, but it still allowed Ramona to enter and pull up a chair in front of the desk. She froze as the chair creaked under her heavier frame. She had already endured the embarrassment of a broken bed frame as well as bent doorknobs and cracked doorjambs. Having the chair break mid-conversation with Mercurye would be a level of mortifying she hadn’t encountered since middle school.
Ramona felt her stomach twist and knot. She recognized it as hunger and attacked the first sandwich. Her metabolism had accelerated since the accident, requiring her to eat every three hours. She had asked Soviette if she could manage an IV, but Ramona’s skin would not allow a needle to pass through the first layers. Both the Russian doctor and Bella had warned her that a metahuman metabolism required more calories, and that she needed to eat to heal from the accident.
“Paging Mr. Tesla,” she said around a mouthful of sandwich. “Mr. Tesla, you’re wanted in the lobby. Paging Mr. Tesla.”
The blue electric field hummed around the slender antennae that extended from the desk. The image shuddered and flickered to show a different but equally familiar wireframe face. Mr. Marconi’s expression registered nothing short of surprise when he recognized Ramona sitting at the desk.
“Signorina Ferrari? The reports, we received much of the information that was transmitted on the regular channels. The official reports all said that you were dead!” Marconi’s eyes narrowed as he appeared to inspect her from head to toe. “But you are just too skinny. This is not good, Signorina.”
“I’m supposed to be dead, sir,” Ramona chirped. She chose to ignore the skinny comment. “Ramona Ferrari is dead, thanks to Dominic Verdigris and his flunkies. It’s been an interesting experience, and I’ve not been able to talk with you and Mr. Tesla until now.”
“You should not be concerned with the feelings of two old men. Your beau has been beside himself with the news.” Marconi scowled at her. “And you wait until now to make this known?”
Ramona scowled back. “Security. Trust me, I nearly died. I’m not lying about that part, and we lost plenty of others. And that was just Dominic Verdigris trying to thin out the people he suspected of being malcontents. Attacks are happening on a more regular basis, Thulian attacks that are becoming more strategic. We’ve been a little busy, sir.”
Marconi pursed his lips and studied her while she bit off a corner of her sandwich. “Well, you are quite alive, dear lady. The rest of this can be discussed later, after I reassure Nicola that you have not gone the way of his nephew. I have the feeling he will be as displeased with this charade as I am. For now, though…”
The image faded and the blue field shifted to show the little white room where the Metisans kept Mercurye.
* * *
“So, I wake up with the Russians and Parker staring at me like I’m at the bottom of a petri dish, and my tongue feels like someone’s coated it with the stuff they use for dental fillings. Whatever she did to bring me back from the edge meant that she had to activate some meta-gene, and mine decided to go all heavy metal.” Ramona sat back and offered a half smile to the image in the quantator. Mercurye stared back, eyes red-rimmed without actually crying and an expression of utter disbelief on his face for most of her retelling. “It’s got some interesting combat abilities, although I’m not completely cleared for active duty. They’ve already given me a call-sign though. Steel Maiden.”
Mercurye passed a hand over his face and looked away from the screen. He hadn’t said much beyond a few half-sentences and a string of sailor-worthy swearing at the mention of Verdigris, and Ramona’s story had seemed to drain the rest of the anger from him. He dropped his chin to his chest and heaved a huge sigh. “So you’re alive, but since you’re meta, they’re going to put you on active patrol. I guess that makes sense, but how much training are you going to get?”
That question wasn’t one that Ramona expected. She frowned at him. “Training? I went through years of training as an ECHO detective, Rick. I didn’t spend a decade as a glorified paper-pusher while Alex was running things. I probably went through more firearms training than you did, come to think of it.”
“Training to manage the mutation,” he corrected, still not looking at her. “Training to make it work for you in combat, training so it doesn’t control you when you don’t want it to. And the psych evaluations…”
“Have already been done by two doctors,” she finished. Ramona hadn’t expected this sullen form of coddling, but she couldn’t fault him for being angry. They had purposely kept the Metisians in the dark about the survivors of the accident, just in case those communications has somehow been compromised. “Look, I’m sorry you’re upset…”
“Upset?” He whipped around to glare at her. “Upset doesn’t even begin to describe it. I’m stuck here, unable to do anything but listen to those two argue about how the Metisians won’t make a decision. When they heard about what happened at Five Corners, they kept putting things to votes! Votes!” Rick’s voice echoed off the walls, exasperation in his words. “They’re still voting!”
“Even your spaceship friends?”
He stopped and stared at her. “Who?”
“The pilots of that spaceship. You said they came to see you every so often. Purple hair, kind of grabby. One of them watched Next Generation because she had a crush on Riker?” Ramona saw him start to smile, finally. “Yeah, them. So they come over to watch TV with you?”
“Well, yeah. Trina mostly. She’s nice enough,” he said. “Why?”
Ramona took a deep breath. “What does she think of this whole voting thing?”
Rick snorted at the question. “She’s one of the ones trying to convince them to send more help and get involved. They actually saw what happened down here, and they know that we need more help. There’s more technology up here that she thinks could be shared without too many repercussions, but…”
“But,” Ramona prompted. “What’s the catch?”
“Prime directive,” he answered. “That’s half the argument.”
She sat back and stared at the fuzzy blue outline surrounding the clear image. “You’re kidding me. That’s just… you’re kidding me, right?”
“I wish. They call it something else and they have a bunch of other arguments about interference and influence, but a lot of the argument comes down to that. Influencing a ‘lesser’ species and civilization can be reason enough to not aid them in a time of war.” Ramona started to open her mouth, but Rick must have seen it and rushed ahead. “Plenty of people here see that the war could come to them, but not enough believe that argument.”
“Well, we’ll just have to make them believe. Violate the Prime Directive first, as it were.” She did her best Red Saviour grin; it had the desired effect as Rick leaned back from the screen with an uneasy smile. “You think Trina would be willing to pick me up sometime soon? Smuggle me up there?”
His eyes widened. “You… really? You’re going to come here and talk to them?”
“You get me a ride, and I’ll be there on behalf of ECHO. I talked Tesla into a magic solution,” she answered with a hint of pride. “And if not, maybe I can at least get you home.”
He let out a huge sigh, his shoulders sagging with the motion. “Home. Home would be amazing. Home would be color and sunlight and seasons and a chili cheese burger at the Varsity.”
“With a frosted orange,” Ramona teased.
“Chocolate shake.”
“Chocolate shake, then.” She ran both hands through her hair and leaned back. Eyes closed, Ramona thought through the plan out loud. “So, you talk to your contact and see what she can do about getting me a ride from here to there. Bella’s given me permission to negotiate on her behalf, but we have to figure
out what I can say that will get the Metisians to pull their enlightened heads out of their equally enlightened asses.”
“Do the Thulians know that Metis has been sponsoring ECHO? All the technology and intelligence,” Rick offered. “They have to know about the transport that got me here, and they have to wonder about where the body of their buddy Eisenfaust went.”
Ramona pursed her lips. Did the Thulians have the intelligence to put two and two together? That hair-raising escapade at the diner had proven that they could track specific individuals, and they had been gunning for Alex Tesla. They hadn’t managed to track the quantator, and Ramona suspected that they didn’t know about that communication device. Given the history between the Thulians and the metas that had returned from the times of Nazi Germany, she figured that there must be some shared knowledge about the early days of ECHO and its founders. “If Metis is still ahead, they’re not that far ahead,” she said. “They won’t be able to stay ahead if the Thulians keep picking at the defenses down here. Sooner or later, they’re going to seek out better targets, and that’s going to include Metis.”
The figure on the other side of the quantator shook his head. “We’ve tried the defense strategy, remember? They don’t think it’s bad enough to get involved.”
“But they think it’s bad enough to indefinitely detain a metahuman who managed to accompany a body on an alien transport ship?” Ramona narrowed her eyes. “Did they ever give you a reason as to why you had to stay up there, or were they just looking for eye candy?”
Rick’s cheeks flushed pink; whether it was from anger or embarrassment, Ramona couldn’t tell. “I… well, no. No, they didn’t, other than it was safer and that they couldn’t let me go until they made a decision as to what to do with me.”
“Sounds a like a bullshit answer to me,” she snorted. “I think I can do better. You figure out a way to talk to your contacts there, see if they’re up for a trip. I’ll be back tomorrow to iron out the details. In the meantime, I need to get fitted for a suit.”
“A suit?” For the first time, Rick seemed to study her more closely. “Because you went meta? But they can size nanoweave pretty easily. It’s just the color you can’t change.”
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when I get there.” Ramona winked at him and leaned forward. “Same time tomorrow. Don’t let anyone talk you out of it, okay?”
“Like they could.”
* * *
The next thirty-six hours went by in a blur of hurried subterfuge. Bella had returned to the CCCP headquarters with a fastidious Ukrainian gentleman dressed in a suit that he declared was aubergine when Ramona had tried to compliment the purple hue. Bella had introduced him as ECHO’s personal tailor, a metahuman who made threads ‘speak’ to each other much the same way she did with cells and neurochemicals. The three of them had taken over one of the offices as a fitting room for the evening. In less than six hours, Sergei had finished a silicone-reinforced version of the nanoweave suit, complete with a corset-like piece—the silicone-reinforcement—that hugged Ramona’s torso and provided both protection and support. He had declared it finished before asking Bella for a name.
“A name?” Bella eyed Ramona cautiously. “We’re, uh, still working on that part.”
“Steel Maiden,” Ramona quipped dryly, flashing both hands with forefingers and pinkies extended. “I like the one Spin gave me, so let’s keep it. So metal, dude!”
Bella had dissolved into a fit of giggles at that, but it satisfied Sergei and he jotted the name in a small notebook that he tucked into his jacket. He slipped out of the office, leaving the two women to discuss the final stage of the plan. Ramona waited until she heard the doors open and shut in the hallway before tugging on the sleeves and the underbust. She hadn’t thought it was possible to feel both completely covered yet exposed at the same time, but skintight silicone-nanoweave somehow made that possible. “Now that I’ve got an appropriate travel wardrobe, it’s time to travel. I guess we should make the call, huh?”
Vickie chirped a reply. “They’re hee-eere. It’s not the right time of year for reindeer, but it’s something on the roof. Something big.”
Ramona and Bella shared a look of surprise. “I didn’t think they’d show up that quickly. When I talked to Rick earlier today, he had said he was going to bring it up.”
“Guess it was brought up, approved, and put into motion.” Bella tilted her head toward the stairwell. “You got your toothbrush?”
“No. I’ll pick one up when I get there.” The two women climbed the back stairs to the roof, Ramona feeling the hairs on the back of her neck standing straight up as they pushed open the access door. The stars high above Atlanta shone bright, with the exception of a large blob of black that hummed and vibrated dangerously close to the rooftop. Ramona clutched at Bella’s forearm as blue lines reminiscent of the quantator crisscrossed the sky.
“Jebus Cluny …”
“Grown-up swear words, ma’am. This one rates at least a ‘holy shit,’ don’t you think?” Ramona swallowed hard and watched the thin column of light pool on the rooftop. A ramp snaked through the light to grip the gravel-covered surface. “Victrix, are you sure you’ll be able to keep an eye on me?”
“Magic’s magic, across the street or halfway across the universe.” Of the three of them, the technomancer’s voice held the most calm.
A lone figure descended the spiraling ramp at a jog, dark purple hair swinging in a perfect chin bob. It stopped a few steps from the rooftop and waved frantically at the two women. “Well? One of you has to be Ramona Ferrari, because anyone else would be screaming. Please come aboard so we can close the aperture and depart!”
Bella nudged Ramona with her elbow. “That’s your cue.”
“Sounds like it.” Ramona released the thin blue arm and exhaled slowly. “Here goes everything.” She rolled her shoulders back and crossed to the light-filled staircase. As she stepped on the ramp, Ramona felt her entire body hum and resonate, and she realized that the translucent surface beneath her feet was bringing her up to the purple haired figure. For a brief moment, she considered leaping back to the ground and asking Bella to find someone else to speak to Metis. By the time she realized that her new abilities would help her body accommodate the shock, Ramona stood face to face with the smiling Metisian pilot.
“Oh, brilliant. You managed to come up here the first time. Mercurye said that you wouldn’t hesitate, but I admit that I had my doubts.” The pilot beamed at her, showing perfectly straight teeth in a smile out of a chewing gum commercial. “It’s so delightful to be proven wrong. Are you ready to go?”
The whirlwind commentary and unfailingly polite address caught Ramona off guard. She bobbed her head in agreement, unable to find words to reply. The smile was so… bright. “Brilliant,” the pilot repeated. “Have a seat. I can’t wait to see his face when you finally arrive.”
* * *
Ramona couldn’t decide if the trip to Metis involved legitimate dimensional travel or if this genius race could break a half dozen rules regarding the space-time continuum and just apologize afterward. She arrived at the hangar in Metis, only to be hurried down a long white hallway and through a thin gelatinous barrier that clung to her skin. The pilot abandoned her just before the barrier, offering only a whispered ‘good luck’ and a shove through the blue field. Ramona gasped at the alien sensation and gagged as her skin rejected the unwelcome coating by creating a thin shell of its own. The blue goo slid to the floor and she brought her hands up to her face to clear her vision.
The room, Ramona realized, was dark. She couldn’t make out any walls or a ceiling, and the veil of blue disappeared in a electric zip that left the tang of ozone in its wake. Left in this expanse, Ramona wondered if she should expect the floor to give way and give her the opportunity to float. She tested the floor with one foot. The tap seemed solid enough. She tried with the other foot, and the entire floor hummed in response.
“Well, shit.” The vibratio
ns carried into her teeth. “Should have stayed still.”
The vibrations intensified, the air around Ramona humming with energy. She blinked up to see tiny blue lines filling the space beneath what she hoped was the ceiling. The outline contained more and more details with each second, until Ramona realized that she stared straight into the larger-than-life-sized countenance of Marconi.
It grinned at her. Ramona was thankful for that much; she wasn’t sure if she would have contained her bladder if the huge face had demonstrated anything but approval. She chanced a smile in return. “Buongiorno, Signore Marconi. I must say, you’re a bit taller in person.”
The wireframe laughed, a somewhat terrifying sight in the otherwise empty space. “Indeed, Ms. Ferrari. This is a surprise, although I should have expected it. Nicola, he will be surprised as well.” The room hummed a second time, and Ramona was only slightly less surprised to find a second, more severe image hovering over the floor in blue wireframe. Unlike Marconi, Tesla did not appear amused at her presence.
“I see that you have found a way to leave the Russians,” Tesla remarked, his tone dry and his words clipped. “You secured your own transport here?”
“I make friends easily.” Ramona shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s a gift.”
“One of several, it seems.” Marconi squinted, leaning uncomfortably close to her arm. “This is amazing. Nicola, did you notice—”
“Of course I noticed,” Tesla snapped. “The manifestation of the meta ability is not easily ignored, especially in a case like this.” The head swiveled to eye Ramona. “And this was a function of your accident? The events occurring after the unlocking of the charter?”
“Yes.” Her voice did not waver. “The healer triggered the healing response, but the rest happened by accident when she took the chance that something else might get triggered as well. If she hadn’t, I wouldn’t be standing here.”
Collision: Book Four in the Secret World Chronicle - eARC Page 27