She wanted this farce to be over as quickly as possible, so that she could return to her people in Atlanta and get back to doing something that actually mattered.
She wished Boryets had not been invited. She should have been sufficient to represent Russia’s interests. After all, was that not the supposed, overt reason she had been sent to Atlanta in the first place? But it seemed that the Metisians were aware that in reality she had been disgraced and in exile. The only reason she was here in the first place was because Belladonna had not only argued strongly for her attendance, but had hinted that she and Bulwark would rethink their own attendance if the Metisians did not include CCCP. Strangely, Boryets had not objected. For some reason that vexed her all the more. Intrigue and games; the sheen on the memories she held of him from her youth had tarnished considerably, and she saw him more and more for the politician he had become. More like the Metisians than he probably knew, he was a manipulator, not a creature of action anymore.
Well, just look at the way he had manipulated the Metisians themselves into allowing a coterie of his precious Supernauts to be included as “special security!” She wondered very strongly how he had managed that. None of the other delegates had been allowed such a large group of attendants. The one concession that Boryets seemed to have made was to leave the majority of the Supernauts outside of the proceedings.
Bluster and show. I have more in common with my blue capitalist sestra than I do with the man who was my mentor.
Well, at least she had her bolshoi brat at her side. Molotok; she could count on Moji and he could count on her. And he was more comfortable with people like the Metisians than she was. Honestly, he was comfortable with everyone he met; good looks to match any Hollywood leading man, but with a decidedly Russian cast to his jaw and his eyes, he was always quick to smile and offer a laconic joke. Moji had always been the more public-friendly of the two of them, which certainly didn’t hurt him where the fairer sex was concerned. This held true even in Metis, where Natalya had spied more than a few Metisian women eyeing her comrade appraisingly.
The other three of her contingent, she was not as certain of. Rusalka had proven to be a sturdy enough comrade, but she was of the same generation as Boryets, both of them fighting together in the Great Patriotic War. Ties like that didn’t wither so easily, and Natalya kept the elementalist at arm’s length. Flins and Marowit, the last two of their contingent, made her uneasy. For that matter, they seemed to make everyone uneasy, especially Chug. Their performance during the battle for Ultima Thule had been satisfactory, if disturbing, but in the wake of the fight, it was her unease that persisted. This didn’t seem to bother the pair a whit. They largely stayed at the back of the group, Marowit occasionally whispering something to Flins, who would only nod in response, his face utterly blank.
Perhaps I should have asked for Murdock and his woman. But…not possible. There had been whispers and…less than diplomatic statements uttered about those two by many in the leadership council. Objectively, she understood. It wasn’t every day that metahumans manifested that level of power, with little to no warning. There had been calls to take them into custody immediately after the fighting, to at least interrogate them, even to turn them over to the US military. The memory of what had happened with The Mountain was still very clear in all of their minds. Natalya had immediately shut down all such talk—at least out in the open—by stating it was a CCCP matter, and would be resolved by her and no one else. Again, there had been no objection from Boryets, and Bella had thrown in her, and consequently ECHO’s, support for Natalya. That had relieved some fears held by the generals; perhaps they were just glad that the responsibility would fall on someone else’s shoulders if the pair turned malicious. But Bella’s support did little to quiet her own doubts. Murdock had been a sturdy comrade in the past, a reliable operator. But, with all of the drastic changes he and his strange woman had undergone…the couple were an unknown quantity, now. Were they going to be tools, weapons that she could wield…or time bombs, waiting to destroy her and those nearby?
“Victrix to Saviour.”
“Da, witch girl. I am listening.”
“Got the results of the Murdock exam. Clean bill of health, he’s not crazy. He’s pretty much the same guy you recruited, but more…stable, actually, if that’s even possible. He’s not going to crack, no matter what. He might be the first completely sane Op4, ever.”
“And the woman?”
There was an odd chuckle. “Has a personal message for you. Ya to, shto ya, Natalya Shostakovaya. Pomnyu Rabochiye Ray, i schitayut.”
I am what I am, Natalya Shostokovaya. Remember Workers Paradise, and believe.
That caused her breath to catch for a moment. She did her best to hide it, though. “Da, fine. We’ll talk more of them later. Must be going through tedious meetings so egg-shaped heads are having time to make long speeches.”
As if to underscore that, a soft chime punctuated the end of her sentence. “It is time for the Council meeting with the Delegates. All delegates and guests should make their way to the Marconi Grand Foyer.”
The door to her room slid open, and Molotok gestured to her from the hallway. “Come, sestra. I think smoking section is this way.”
Natalya elbowed Moji in the ribs as she walked past him, eliciting an amused chuckle and mock pain as he rubbed the spot. The Metisians had absolutely forbidden her from lighting up, but had provided her with a cigarette-shaped device they said would satisfy her cravings without “endangering those around her.” She had turned her nose up at it, muttering that she would rather wait than pretend to smoke. By now, however, her cravings were in such force she was starting to consider using it, and actually had it in the breast pocket of her uniform.
Natalya marched at the front, following a lightly scintillating pattern of lights that marked their path. Molotok, Rusalka, Flins and Marowit all fell in behind her. Here and there along their path they would see Metisians going about their lives, all wearing the same white outfits and talking quietly. At some point they were joined by Worker’s Champion and a quartet of Supernaut soldiers, all utterly silent as they followed. She wanted to turn and confront Boryets, to scream and shout and curse at him and all of the other old fools who had helped plunge the world into ruin, but she kept herself in check—barely. Now was the time to maintain composure, to show that he and the rest of the dinosaurs in Moscow were wrong about her.
The door opened before they reached it, to reveal a—what else?—rectangle of white light. It seemed that the Metisians thought that the future had to be white…even though the inhabitants of Metis itself were a mix of every possible race she had been able to identify. They entered the Assembly Chamber as it was called, and once past the door, the light dimmed to a pleasant, over-all glow. As if anything here in this city was ever anything but bathed in a pleasant, over-all glow…Natalya felt herself craving the harsh sodium streetlights and dirty streets of Moscow more than ever, for the first time in what seemed years. Even Atlanta was preferable to this. At least Atlanta was real.
It was a predictably circular chamber, with a dais in the middle, and successively higher levels of white tables with comfortable white chairs behind them. Each of those tables sported both a blue light and white sign with blue lettering, identifying at least the nationality of those who were sitting at the table. Her eyes went to the tiers above, and spotted Russia: Supernauts on the third tier. So where was CCCP? She felt increasingly uneasy as she scanned tier after tier and saw nothing…
“Earth to Nat. You’re down here, ground floor, table next to ECHO.” Startled by Ramona Ferrari’s voice in her ear, her gaze snapped down to the tables in front of the dais, and the one occupied by Belladonna, Bulwark, Yankee Pride, Mercurye, with Ramona on the end. Catching her eye, Ramona nodded to the empty table immediately next to her.
She immediately stalked over there, her mind and body screaming for nicotine as she plopped down in the centermost chair, a chair which disconcertingly mo
lded itself to her, cradling her rather than allowing her to sit. Molotok took the seat to her right, with Rusalka on her left. Flins and Marowit chose to stand in the back; Natalya was conscious that she didn’t enjoy the feeling of having the pair behind her.
“Marconi and Tesla insisted on having you up front.” That was Belladonna. “Mind you, I was going to have you share our table if they hadn’t.”
Natalya started to speak, then clamped her jaw shut. She looked over to where Belladonna sat, muttered to herself, and then stood up abruptly. She stomped over to the ECHO table, stopping in front of Bella’s position at it. “Blue girl…sestra…thank you. I still am thinking this is unnecessary farce, and cannot be out of this bright children’s model soon enough, but…thank you. For believing and standing by. You are truly a sturdy comrade, and will always be counted as such.”
Bella blinked, but recovered quickly. “We don’t always see eye to eye, Commissar, but at least we never try to deliberately sabotage each other. Or punch each other. I was mad as hops when you sent your people out looking for Ultima Thule, but believe me I understand why you did it. I can’t think of anything harder for someone who is used to action…” she glanced at Bulwark “…than to sit back and wait. Sometimes it’s intolerable, not having anything to hit.”
“You are having good point. Hand to hand practice, once back in Atlanta? CCCP HQ has adequate gym facilities. Few leaks, most lights work.”
Bella smiled, and hid it behind her hand. “You’d win unless I cheated. But I’d appreciate some Systema lessons.”
Bulwark barely cracked a smile. “You could use some Systema lessons,” he rumbled.
“Is settled. Let us finish this…exercise, so that we may return all the sooner, da?” She nodded curtly, then went back to her seat. Moji arched an eyebrow, waiting until she was seated before he spoke.
“That was different. You didn’t even break anything.”
“Shut up, brat, or I shall start here.” She could have been annoyed, but instead felt a smile of her own creep its way into her lips. It is good to have friends, not just comrades. Borzhei moi, I’m turning soft and American!
The last of the delegates filed into the chamber with its mirrored ceiling. They barely took up the first five tiers. There was room for thousands of people here…concrete proof that the Metisians did operate by consensus. The very last person to walk in was Arthur Chang, in full military regalia. While it would have been expected for a representative from the State Department or the President’s cabinet to act as representative, there had been some sort of…agreement worked out with the President. Metis had insisted on his presence; that had settled the matter, in the end. He remained impassive as he made his way to his seat, at the table next to ECHO’s. He looked eminently calm and capable; Natalya found herself liking the man, for his strategic expertise and the care he showered his troops with, if nothing else. Once he was seated, the light chatter that had filled the chamber fell to a hush.
The two Metisians who had been standing to one side of the dais took the three steps up to it. There was already a table with a pair of plain white cubes on it. Once the two Metisians, a man and a woman, took their places on either side of the table, the two cubes glowed, and suddenly there were two projected men, one in front of each cube, joining them. It was clear that these were projections, because they were slightly transparent. The one on Natalya’s right was shorter than the other, but she recognized them both from the wire-frame versions of their heads that had appeared when she went to speak with them via the Quantator currently residing in the secure room of CCCP headquarters. Tesla and Marconi, of course.
“Those of you who are unfamiliar with faces of history will not recognize our two…incorporeal associates,” said the male Metisian, in a white suit that looked to Natalya as if it had been stolen from a state-sponsored science fiction film of the 1970s. “May I present to you, Nikolai Tesla, and Enrico Guglielmo Marconi.” Each man nodded slightly at the sound of his name. Virtually everyone except those at the ECHO and CCCP tables gasped as the implications began to dawn on them. “Together they are the founders of what came to be known as Metis, where you find yourselves now, a city and a society based on science for the greatest possible good.”
A murmur began, which Natalya predicted would become a roar if something was not done about it. The speaker stilled the sound with a raised hand. “When you return to your rooms, you will find documents waiting which should answer every one of the questions which are occurring to you now. And if you have other questions, you have been given access to the Universal Terminals through which you may ask whatever you please.”
Ah, but will you answer those questions? Nat thought to herself. While she trusted Tesla and Marconi—insofar as she could trust any of these people—she did not trust the openness and honesty of these Metisians. Her government, past and present, was no saint on the world stage. But she found that people, professing to be working in the best interests of everyone, often were able to justify the worst atrocities and evils to themselves. She saw no reason why these Metisians would be any different, so far. The monopoly they had on their technology, and the immense power that granted them in relation to every other force on the planet…it gave her pause to think what they might do, with the power vacuum created by the Thulians and their weakening of even the strongest nations on the planet. A technocracy would be no better than slavery by oligarchs or fascists.
Art of War was the first to realize what the blue light was for…or perhaps was the first of those who had figured it out to decide to use it. He waved his hand over the top of it, and it went from a dim glow to a bright one.
“General Chang?” the Metisian said, acknowledging him.
“Thank you for the introduction to Masters Tesla and Marconi,” Chang said smoothly. “But who might you and your companion be?”
The man smiled. “We are the delegated representatives of Metis, although every citizen is currently monitoring this conference,” he replied. “I am Citizen Raymond Freiberg, and my fellow delegate is Citizen Mable Aldante. She and I represent the opposing factions within Metis, insofar as our involvement with the rest of the world is concerned. I am in favor, and she is in opposition.”
“Thank you for that clarification, Citizen Raymond,” Chang said gravely. “I am relieved to discover I am not going to have to refer to you by, say, two sets of numbers.”
There was a ripple of quiet laughter through the congregation, but it quickly subsided.
“But Citizens, gentlemen, ladies, the question I think that is paramount here is this. You elected to reveal yourselves and come to our aid at Ultima Thule—and believe me we are grateful. But just exactly how much more are you going to supply to us now? You have to face facts; there are probably tens of thousands of you, and billions of us. The proverbial cat is out of the bag. I don’t think you can go back into hiding again.” He steepled his fingers just under his face. “I am sure that while some governments would be inclined to just quietly sit back and let you be, the majority are going to assume that if you are not forthcoming in sharing what you have, then you will be as much a threat as the Thulians. If not now, then in the future.” There were shouts of agreement and some decidedly less agreeable shouting. Mabel looked triumphant, and cast a glance at Raymond as if to say “I told you so.”
But Chang wasn’t done. He raised his hand and the shouts quieted. “This is something that no government, especially the United States government, can abide. We need to know your intentions, and establish a means for disseminating the technology and the scientific grounding so that the world might protect itself against any future aggressors like the Thulians.”
Natalya felt herself holding her breath. Art of War had beaten her to the punch with his questions, and she decided it was probably for the best. She would have certainly been less diplomatic with her tone and wording; it seemed that his ability for strategy not only extended to the battlefield, but also to wars of words. The assembled cr
owd erupted once Arthur had finished speaking again, each delegate wishing to have their say heard first. Natalya noticed that Belladonna and Worker’s Champion each held back; Bella conferring with Bulwark, while Boryets simply watched.
“Gentlemen! Ladies!” Marconi boomed, voice amplified, over the growing tumult. “Is your very presence here not an indication that Metis has every intention of sharing our knowledge? If we had wanted to keep our wisdom to ourselves, would we have brought you here in the first place? In our vehicles? Vehicles which your own weapons’ systems were unable to detect until we allowed them to?”
Telsa nodded, as the voices subsided. “We could easily have made our appearance, dealt with the Thulians, and vanished, and you would have been none the wiser. Instead, you are here as our guests. Please calm your fears. Emotionalism will not win you allies among us, and you will have to convince every Metisian among us in order to achieve your goals. We are a true democracy.”
Nat snorted a little. Tesla twitched an eyebrow in her direction, but continued on. “Each and every vote will be held where you can see it, and it will be your task, as representatives of your various governments, to convince us that you are prepared to use what we hold wisely.” He raised his voice a little. “Furthermore, there will be no playing of favorites. What one receives, all will receive. You may wish to take that into consideration.”
The room exploded into shouting again at that. Natalya decided to tune out as much of it as possible, as different nations loudly argued their cases for receiving the lion’s share of technology due to their contributions during the war against the Kriegers. Herself, Art of War, Belladonna, and Worker’s Champion were part of a small contingent that remained largely silent, allowing the more self-important delegates to blow as much hot air as they liked. The need for a cigarette grew more and more urgent as the puerile conjecture carried on.
Collision: Book Four in the Secret World Chronicle - eARC Page 65