Revolution: Book Three of the Secret World Chronicle - eARC

by Mercedes Lackey

  How can I ask her to give up everything she has ever known? Is life that important to me?

  Long after Sera had closed her eyes to rest in his arms, John lay awake, thinking and fearing.

  Fire On The Mountain

  Mercedes Lackey, Dennis Lee, Cody Martin

  As fast as I could get parts, plans, and bullying to techs on the ground, there was a copy of Overwatch Mark One Point One (without the magic part) in every ECHO comm-room. I even sent cases of parts and the plans to Saviour Senior in Moscow, though with that supreme tinkerer, Petrograd, gone in the Invasion I had no idea if he’d ever implement it. One Point One was pure tech, ECHOtech headset, HUD, and pinhole camera mounted in a helmet—because the days of jaunting around helmetless with your hair flying in the wind were over. Unless you were one of the handful of truly invulnerable, a headshot from a Krieger, or even a good sniper, would take you out. The Kriegers had plenty of energy weapons and Blacksnake had plenty of snipers… So helmets for all, thankyouverymuch. That made it trivial to integrate Overwatch into them. Some ECHO Ops used the HUDs, some didn’t; all the HUDs were external retinal projectors and not everyone liked them. My newly-recruited operators couldn’t hack security, ATM, and traffic cameras as fast as I could, but most of them were hackers I personally tracked down and recruited, including the totally awesome Captain Hackatron of Texas, and they’d learn. They’d never be me, but they would, gods willing, never have to be me. Some of them would be better, much better, at the hack than me on a pure skill level, because I cheated with magic. Overwatch One Point One was a crippled version of the first, but it was also far less of a kludge; a smoothly integrated, fully tech system with easily replaced parts. Including the operator. And let me say, the Colt brothers turned out to be supernaturally good at being Overwatch Sentinels. So good they even got callsigns; Sentinel Alpha and Sentinel Omega.

  Another advantage was that now if anyone talked about Overwatch…I was no longer “it.” I was now one herring hiding in the shoal.

  Yes. I am that paranoid.

  We did keep one little thing. I was still “Overwatch,” or sometimes “Overwatch One.” Everyone else was a “Sentinel” in the “Overwatch Network.” So the herring still had a red tail. But it was better than being the only prey-fish in an ocean full of sharks.

  I rushed this through as fast as Bella could sign the orders. Because when our ass-saving, face-saving, “Yes ECHO is doing all it can to defeat the Kriegers” intel finally came through from Tesla and Marconi, I wanted the Network to be in place.

  It was. Not one moment too soon, either.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, we have our miracle.”

  That was how Bella had put it, in a joint meeting of her Advisory Council; even Red Saviour was an unofficial part of it, listening and commenting via Vickie’s Overwatch. They had their miracle, something to make it clear to the world that ECHO was not weak, not ineffective, and not sitting on its collective hands. Something to prove that not even the loss of Alex Tesla and the machinations of Dominic Verdigris could blunt their edge.

  Something to prove that they were more than willing to take the fight to the Thulians. Just in time too; after the all-too-brief honeymoon, the US military and the press were starting to make impatient noises.

  “We have our miracle. Tesla and Marconi have given us the location of the Krieger North American HQ. It’s payback time.”

  “Testing,” said Vickie. John blinked a little, jarred out of the memory. The new implants made it sound as if she was standing right next to him. He’d been using them for some time, but he still had not become used to them.

  Not everyone had the implants, of course, just the Infiltration team and the commanders for the ground teams, along with a select few in other areas. The rest had to make do with earbuds and throat mics and HUDs in their helmets. At ground commander, RS had both. As a former member of the world’s most technologically advanced military, John was always wowed and in favor of more gee-whiz fun things that made his job easier. But he still liked to have at least a rudimentary understanding of the tech, too; this new stuff, particularly anything dealing with magic, gave him the creeps. Results counted, though, so he accepted it. The HUD was particularly weird. Some sort of tiny device that fed information into the optic nerve inside his eyes. What he saw, floating between his eyes and the rest of the world, looked just like standard HUD projections, like stuff from the Future Warrior project that was all the rage for awhile.

  John fidgeted in his control harness. He had been—back when the universe made a modicum of sense—a patient man, and had understood that it was a required trait for being a member of the Special Operations community. Right now, he just wanted to get on with things, take the fight to the enemy and do something that had an impact. Not like I have all the time in the world to do so, anymore. He shifted again, trying to brush off his imminent mortality. “Are we still on schedule, Vic?”

  “That’s a Rog. Countdown is on your HUD. Want some music?” She sounded quite calm as if she didn’t know she was talking to a dying man. Or a walking dead man. Maybe that was her way of keeping him sane.

  “Naw. Just keep me updated.” He glanced at the first team leader, an accomplished ECHO meta named Bulwark. John didn’t like Bulwark very much, and he was sure that the feeling was more than mutual. Bulwark, while just as professional as John, was a company man. To him, John was probably dubious. John had all the moves and the manners of the military, but an unknown background and on top of that, was part of the CCCP…

  Then again, the ECHO operative was riding herd on Red Djinni. Compared to the Djinni, John probably looked like a Boy Scout.

  He wished, with a profound ache, that Sera was here…but she said she had to stay in Atlanta. She didn’t tell him why, and he didn’t ask. Maybe it was to keep that rat-bastard Verdigris from trying anything while most of ECHO was out here. Verd still had Fei Li. It wouldn’t be out of character for him to put a hit on Bella if he thought he could get away with it. Sera had filled him with that strength and energy of hers before he left, and to most people he was passing as his normal self. But he felt fragile, like a thin glass bottle holding white-hot plasma.

  Mamona piped up from the back of the cramped crew compartment, sandwiched between Motu and Matai. “What happens if they figure us out?”

  “Simple, comrade; they blow us out of the sky.” John flashed a wolfish smile over his shoulder.

  “They won’t figure you out as long as everything works right.” That was Vickie. “And I have contingencies on my contingencies.”

  The “death machine” they were riding in had been recovered several months previously from Lake Michigan, one of the captured Thulian Orbs that a mysterious “Doctor Dusk” had brought down undamaged. This “Doctor Dusk” character hadn’t been sighted before or since the Invasion; for an unregistered metahuman, he would’ve had to be something else to take out a Thulian orb all on his lonesome, and without damaging it to boot. Bulwark was the only one that was granted clearance to get minimal training for the craft. John wasn’t very happy about that, since he’d still rather have cross-training for the rest of the team. No telling what would happen once they were on-site; having another trained pilot for one of these gizmos might save their hides. But orders were orders and it was too late for it now.

  “CCCP is in place. ECHO Squad One is in place. ECHO Squad Two is moving in. Hammer is online and downrange. Air support is on station.”

  John unhooked himself from his chair. “Equipment check, everyone. Smoke ’em if you got ’em, and get your kit ready. Once everything starts, there’s no turning back.” John crouch-walked through the cabin, being careful not to step on anyone. The conditions in the Thulian vessel were extremely cramped; they had eight people in a space built for five. He function checked weapons, made sure everyone had extra ammunition, quizzed them on passwords and callsigns, and inspected to see if anyone had any gear improperly secured; noise discipline was going to be tantamount for thi
s mission.

  Satisfied that everyone was ready, he took his place next to Bulwark. “We’re ready to go, Vic. Just give the command.” The death machine was located in one of the western peaks, in relation to the Thulian HQ. It gave a commanding view of the entire valley where the battle was to take place, as well as the whole of the HQ’s exterior. Bulwark and John, with the help of Gamayun, had consulted the Commissar personally about their positioning, using terrain maps and satellite pictures to get an accurate idea of the elevation changes.

  It was inhospitable country. There was a reason why the Park Service strongly recommended no one go off the trails in the Superstition Mountains, and a reason why the BLM flat out forbade prospecting. Right now, out there, the temperature was 110 in the shade. Sure as hell glad I’m gonna be inside for my part of the fight. Hope everybody packed enough H2O.

  “ECHO Squad Two is in place. ECHO Squads Three and Four are moving in. Hammer is on-station and holding.”

  John held his breath. This was it. The seconds ticked off, and time moved by at a crawl.

  “ECHO Squads Three and Four are in place. Hold for Commissar Red Saviour.”

  The Commissar’s voice made him jump a little. He was used to having a disembodied Vickie in his head. Not so Red Saviour. “Final Check. Being sound off. Giving Go or No Go.”

  “ECHO Four, Go.” “ECHO Three, Go.” “ECHO Two, that’s a go.” “Air Support, we’re on-station. Go.” Bulwark cleared his throat. “Infil, Go.” “ECHO One, Go Commissar.” “Squad Red, Ready.” A new voice, with the clipped tones of a military scientist chimed in. “Hammer, Go.”

  Saviour’s voice was just as cool. “All Squads, confirmed Go status. Molotok, you are clear for launch.” “Molotok.” That was Russian for “Hammer.” Figured for Saviour to say it in Russian.

  There was a long pause. John kept his gaze focused on the entrance for the Nazi HQ. If everything went according to plan, the favor that Vickie had somehow called in—or used blackmail to get—from some high-ranking muckety-muck in the Air Force Space Agency would hit the entrance dead on.

  Seconds passed. John was beginning to suspect that there was a problem, or that those in charge hadn’t understood the Commissar, when the biggest explosion he had ever personally seen erupted a mere two-hundred yards away. Danger goddamned close! It was two-thousand yards to the east of the Thulian HQ, and nearly on top of the death machine he was inside. His teeth rattled inside of his head, and he saw spots. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that everyone inside was alive, albeit shook up. More tense waiting. Here’s hopin’ that they don’t drop the next one right on top of us.

  It happened sooner than John thought it would; to reorient something in parking orbit miles above the Earth, calibrate it so that it could strike a target the size of a Buick…it was math that was beyond John. But the NASA and DARPA eggheads had done it. A solid tungsten rod, half the size of a telephone pole with a baby guidance computer and some stabilizing fins, smashed into the top of the Thulian HQ. John realized a moment later that the first round that had almost hit them was merely a ranging shot; nowhere near the full power of what was coming. It hit the stone facade at orbital velocity; the sheer energy released was on scale with a tactical nuclear device, or some of the largest conventional bombs ever detonated. Debris and superheated dust exploded outward, forming the iconic Cold War mushroom cloud even though there was nothing nuclear about it. John could see some sort of energy shield rippling in the very belly of the explosion. It was awesome; a testament to the preparations of a generation that feared Soviet dominance of space, a true space-age weapon. It struck him as ironic that it was now being used to serve a coalition force that was partially composed of hard-liners. “That’ll get their attention.”

  “Am being glad was never used as planned,” Saviour said dryly over the freq. “Davay, davay! ECHO One, Comrades, deploy!”

  The side of the mountain that hid the Thulians had evaporated, exposing the entrance. As if they had heard John, the hangar door split open, orange and malevolent light spilling out through the smoke and dust. Almost immediately, Thulian troopers and death machines began to pour out, like ants from a disturbed nest.

  Bulwark spoke up. “We’re waiting until the second wave comes. Then we make our move.”

  “Roger Infil.” That was Vickie. “I’ve got Saviour on her own freq now. Fewer voices in your ear, the better. CCCP and ECHO One moving in to intercept now. Air Support on the way; they’re gonna lay thermite bombs and boost-napalm in Arc-light right behind the first wave.”

  * * *

  It was very easy to be detached when you were hundreds of miles away from a furnace-hot valley that was about to get a lot hotter. Vickie tried not to be too detached. This wasn’t a video game.

  “Air Support ETA, 90 seconds, Commissar.”

  The Thulians, despite having their visages hidden behind armor and death machine viewports, looked pissed. They moved with a purpose; their supposedly secret North American headquarters had just been attacked with one of the most powerful weapons in the history of Earth, discounting nukes and Op4 metahumans. They charged ahead in attack columns, with additional SS troops attached to the death machines.

  ECHO One, comprised of fast-movers and shooters, went out to engage them. She recognized one of the metahumans; Speed Fiend, with a passenger. She’d taken note of him for being connected with Johnny, during the fight between the whole of the CCCP and the Rebs on the outskirts of Atlanta. Parker, the meta’s Christian name, was speeding ahead of the rest of his squad; a very serious-looking ECHO Op2 with a grenade launcher was riding shotgun with him. “Parker,” that was ironic, considering he was doing everything but park right now. Equally ironic that was Bella’s last name.

  “Back it down, Speed. ECHO One, davay the hell up and close ranks.” She switched to Russian and the CCCP freq. “Povernite napravo, piat’sot metrov. Begite kak esli bi vi shli pod ognem, potomu cho vi popadete pod obstrel esli vi ne potoropites!” Nothing like telling them that they would be on fire if they didn’t move like they were already in flames to get them motivated.

  She switched to the Air Tac comm freq. This was like touch-typing now, she could switch freqs and cameras without even thinking about where her fingers should go.

  Vickie scooted a stealthed “eye” the last couple feet to where she wanted the strafing run to start, and another to the end and painted the spots with laser-dots “Angel Flight, you are go for primary bombardment. T-Bird, you are go for follow-on bombardment.” The Air Force Thunderbirds were not the only aerobatic team that had practiced combat against simulated metahuman targets before the Invasion. The T-birds had gotten all the press coverage, given they were clearing out Vegas where there were a zillion cameras not counting cell phones. The Blue Angels had been itching to prove they were better than their fellow airmen ever since.

  Now they were getting their chance in their six hardened F/A 18 Hornets, followed by the six Thunderbirds in their F16 “Vipers” (as the crews called them) literally coming in at Mach One at least.

  The first jet crested the ridge. The Mach One shock-wave rippled across the battlefield. It was dwarfed by the inferno the jets laid down. And at Mach One, with the expert pilots of the Angels and Thunderbirds at the stick, not even the Thulians could move in time to track on them. They laid down their rockets and incendiary cannon fire, putting a slash of hell across the landscape that cut the first wave off from behind, then climbed vertically in what must have been nearly 9-gee climbs. Sadly, the two “eyes” were the first casualties. Ah well. More where they came from. She had a crateload of them out there, and an awful lot fit into a crate. One of the things that Verd had kindly left behind when he rabbited were the blueprints and manufacturing instructions.

  “Angel Flight and T-birds returning to base for re-arm.”

  She was already flying more of her “eyes” over the battlefield, looking for trouble-spots.

  “Copy that. Godspeed and get back here as fast
as you can.”

  “Roger. Save some for us.”

  All that practice with bigger and bigger teams was paying off. She was in a kind of zen-state where it was possible to keep track of everything in all of her monitors. Well, almost all. Infil Team was holding off till the second wave, so she could ignore them for now.

  Cut off by the gash of fire across their escape route, the Thulians headed for the logical place for defensive entrenchment until the swath of thermite and boost-napalm burned out. Of course they did. They knew this land, and they knew the best places to dig in.

  However, as familiar with the lay of the land as they might be, they were not the only ones smart enough to figure out where the good defensive positions would be.

  As ECHO One and CCCP raced toward them, the Nazis hit the concealed thermite mines that had been planted there in the predawn hours by some very select ECHO metas…

  A second swath of fire exploded up on the ridge. Even though she was expecting it, she jumped, her heart racing.

  * * *

  Verdigris stared glumly at the view from his spycam. It showed a vaguely human-shaped swath of light hovering motionless just above the office that he knew held the new ECHO Chief Bella Dawn Parker.

  It was the Seraphym—just high enough off the ground to put her out of range of a sneak attack from Fei Li. Not that he thought a sneak attack would succeed. Her presence was just a great big fat warning sign. No Trespassing, Violators Will Be Ashed. She knew that, and she knew he knew, and he knew she knew he knew.

  Feh.

  “I could overcome her.” That was Fei Le, who was lounging in one of Verdigris’ best chairs, feet up on the desk. “If you doubt I could take her alone, then between us, your bodyguard and I could.”