Hero

by Robert J. Crane

  “She chose to fight because you pushed her,” Lethe said, throwing a little heat of her own. “You sent that little snake Krall after her, twisted the fact that she’d made preparations to fight before she even arrived here, before she learned the truth about us, into evidence of her treachery. Now she’s demolishing your bought-and-paid-for army and surviving your idiot fearless leader’s attempts to kill her, and rather than thrusting out an olive branch and realizing in this war of bulldozers, she’s going to flatten everything you hold dear, your dumb ass is doubling down on pride. Well, I’ve had about enough of pride, Father,” Lethe said, turning to leave. “I’ve—”

  She didn’t even realize General Krall had entered the room, let alone that the diminutive general had snuck up behind her and was waiting when she turned. Lethe flinched in surprise, but the general struck before she could react—

  The first punch hit Lethe in the throat; the second in the side of the head. It was fierce, too, stars flashing in front of her eyes, causing her legs to buckle beneath her.

  “I don’t expect you to understand the things that I do for this family,” Hades said, from somewhere out of the darkness that was swirling behind Lethe’s eyes. Another blow flattened her, dropping her to her face, cold concrete floor touching her lips, the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. “Soon, you will see. Soon, the vision will become clear … you know, after the concussion passes. But until then, daughter … I think it best if you take a little nap …”

  The last hit put her out, into sweet darkness, and Lethe let go of her worries about her father and her granddaughter, slipping into the embrace of unconsciousness without another word.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY

  Passerini

  “… And we’ve got an AC-130 gunship, a flight of Raptors just past the border,” Passerini said, reading from his prepared notes, “and a little farther out, B-1B Lancers, a couple B-2 Spirits close at hand, with their tanker support. I’ve got a front-rank element of F-35As, too, if we can get the damned things to fly long enough to pose an actual threat—”

  “Enough of the mumbo-jumbo,” President Gondry cut in, clear anger breaking through over the open line. “What does it all mean?”

  “It means if we can get past that metal-bender at the Revelen border,” Passerini said, “I can level a decent portion of the country in a matter of hours. But that’s not all there is to winning a war.”

  “What the hell do you mean?” Gondry was starting to snap with impatience.

  “Well, if you want a real war … we need troops on the ground,” Passerini said. Had Gondry completely ignored him during previous briefings? They’d covered all this logistics and planning stuff ad nauseam for multiple scenarios. “They’ll have to come up from Germany through Poland, at which point they’ll need to traverse Russian territory, and even assuming we get the nod from the Russians for that, we’re not set up to do it effectively.”

  “What about invading through Canta Morgana?” Gondry asked. “Put troops on shore there, march them to the capitol.”

  Passerini let out a slow, careful breath, and saw Graves shaking his head out of the corner of his eye. “An amphibious assault through Canta Morgana is an option, sir … but it’s going to take weeks. We’ll need to get a Marine MEU into place and—”

  “How long, Mr. Secretary?” Gondry asked, apparently just done with it all.

  “For a real invasion … weeks, sir,” Passerini said.

  “You are truly useless,” Gondry said. “We spend all this money on the damned military, and in our actual hour of need, where are you? Nowhere. Nowhere useful, anyway. I want that country taken over right the hell now. I want Sienna Nealon dragged out to face justice. Why the hell can’t you deliver this? Send in your special forces, why don’t you?”

  “Well, sir, we do have special forces at the ready, within striking distance of the border,” Passerini said, “but they’re not going to be of absolute utility against the entire conventional forces structure of Revelen. They have two remaining divisions—”

  “I don’t understand,” Gondry said, “she’s at war with them now, too, yes? Maybe we can just bypass this war business entirely. Let’s make a deal with Revelen and get her ass back here for trial. SecState? Where are you on this?”

  “Here, sir,” Ngo cut in. She was probably elsewhere, maybe Foggy Bottom, but definitely on the call. “We’re attempting to make contact with Revelen through Russian channels at present. Our ambassador is meeting with the Russian president even now, and we’re making considerable progress—they’ve even suspended their alliance with Revelen and are offering—”

  “Wonderful, wonderful,” Gondry said, “I don’t give a damn. Nealon. She’s the priority. How do we get her?”

  “I'm not sure we can right now, sir,” Passerini said, “because of the nuclear issue. We try and bust in the front door and go for Nealon, we’re violating their sovereignty. It’s an act of war, and with their missiles almost certainly pointed at us—well, you can surely connect the dots there, sir.” What do you want more, Passerini thought without asking, Nealon in your hands or the Revelen nukes to stay in their silos and out of the middle of American cities?

  “Don’t be an absolute idiot,” Gondry said. “Only an insane person would launch a nuclear weapon. This is not even a threat.”

  Passerini’s eyes widened. “Sir … it’s a threat. A very real one, in fact.”

  “The stability of the world has never been a question,” Gondry said. “This Hades, whoever you think he is, he’s a statesman. We can bargain with him in good faith, the same we’ve bargained with the Russian president. Look at the results we’ve gotten there in just hours.”

  “Sir, I would caution you not to be so optimistic,” Ngo broke in, just in time to keep Passerini from experiencing a cerebral hemorrhage from holding in—well, a lot. “In our negotiations with the Russians, the president has been very clear in stating that Hades is dangerous. That he asked for and received from Russia some concessions we were not even aware of in the form of—apologies, Secretary Passerini, you’re going to know more about this than I am—three Typhoon class missile subs and six Akulas—”

  “Good God,” Passerini said. The whole Situation Room had gone quiet again, everyone listening to—and stunned into silence—by that one. “Did the Typhoons have any missiles in them?”

  “Yes,” Ngo said.

  Passerini put his face in his hands for a second. “Sir … if those Typhoons were fully loaded—and we have no reason to expect they weren’t—Revelen has even more nuclear firepower than we previous realized, and with the Akulas, they have the capability to defend them against any attack by our submarine forces, which are moving into position right now but …” He shook his head. “Six Akulas and three Typhoons? Revelen’s got a hell of a navy now.” He waved for someone to bring up the satellite imaging, but Graves was already on it.

  “No sign of them on the surface,” Graves said and flipped the image to magnetic resonance. “Do we have any idea where they are?”

  Ngo must have heard him. “The Russians say they were delivered to port in Canta Morgana yesterday but deliberately kept submerged. Revelen officers came aboard at the Russian ports before they sailed. They are in control, and most probably somewhere not too far from home, but …”

  “Shit,” Passerini breathed. “The Baltic Sea is not a small place. If we’re lucky, they’re hanging out close by Canta Morgana, but …” He let out another inaudible curse. That was another batch of nukes in play.

  “Actually, sir,” Graves pointed at the map, “I think they are close to the port.”

  Passerini looked to the map; Graves had zoomed it into the harbor at Canta Morgana. Sure enough, there were some mighty bright spots on the magnetic resonance imagery. “Why the hell would they park nine subs in their damned harbor when they have the whole Baltic to hide in? Or better still, get them out in the Atlantic or the Arctic Ocean?”

  Graves shrugged. “I’m guessing Rev
elen’s military planners are not experienced in running a sub navy. Probably thought to keep them close at hand.”

  “Well, it makes our job easier—if we can get our subs close in to hit them,” Passerini said. “Where’s the—?”

  “Sir,” Graves said, and suddenly he looked a little grey in the face. “There’s activity in Bredoccia again.”

  “Again?” Gondry asked. “What is it now? Are she and her damned brother destroying the city? Because that’d turn old Hades against them in a hurry, I expect—”

  “Sir,” Graves said, and he swallowed visibly. “We are about to have a problem.” And by the way he looked and the way he said it …

  Passerini knew exactly what he meant.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

  Dave Kory

  The chat was running fast and furious now, and Dave was just doing his best to absorb the mental flow of the best and the brightest as he sat, huddled, in the privacy stall, watching them bat ideas back and forth.

  CHALKE: She’s making a mess of everything. But maybe turning Revelen against her opens up the door for us to settle it with a careful peace—one that makes allies with them again. Negotiations are already ongoing with Russia.

  BILSON: We have to spin this carefully. We already positioned things for war, and victory. If we’re not going to have one, we should start pulling that narrative back now—Cooler heads prevailing, that kind of thing in its place.

  CHAPMAN: The pace of change in this conversation is breathtaking. Maybe we should state the primary objective and work back from that into a coherent strategy.

  JOHANNSEN: The strategy is to get Sienna Nealon the hell out of the way and have her die in disgrace before she can throw any more sabo into our well-oiled machine. She’s an impediment to every kind of progress. Look what she did to Harmon. We need her off the board, now.

  CHALKE: Working on it. ;)

  BILSON: Agree. She’s priority one. All this Revelen stuff was just a screen for getting her out of the way. She’s proven way too much of a loose cannon. We didn’t know half of what Harmon planned, but in this case the cure was almost worse than the disease. We have to keep the pressure up on her, regardless of what goes on with Revelen. We can find a satisfying resolution with them, but we CANNOT let Sienna Nealon walk out of this alive. She’s way too dangerous.

  Dave just stared at those words, almost snorted. Yeah, she was dangerous and all, but mostly to whoever she was pointing a gun at. He had more immediate concerns than some superpowered lunatic half the world away, no matter how much he disliked her. And he disliked her quite a bit.

  He didn’t feel the need to share any of that, though.

  KORY: We'll keep the narrative heat on her. The video feed isn’t helping, though. Any way that can get cut? Seeing everything live from the war zone is making people question things they shouldn’t be questioning. She looks less like a criminal and more like a …

  He didn’t feel a need to use the word. Let ’em fill in the blank.

  CHALKE: She’s killing hundreds of people without any evident sign of remorse. I believe the term you’re looking for is ‘psychopath.’ ;)

  Dave rolled his eyes. Chalke and her stupid emojis. She texted like his mom. And he hated his mom. Hated both of them, actually. But at least Chalke had some power to draft off of.

  BILSON: Has anyone seen this new video someone posted of her? Probably by her friends? It’s the Eden Prairie thing, but spruced up by someone who knows what the hell they’re doing.

  CHAPMAN: Seen it. There’s not much that can be done about it.

  CHALKE: It’s on your platform, isn’t it? Can’t you just make it, y’know, disappear?

  CHAPMAN: We can take it down, sure—if you want to guarantee it will go viral.

  Dave paused, nodding along. Jaime Chapman was a pretty sharp student of human nature, in his view. The quickest way to make something go big, true or not, was to try and squash it out. Hopefully everybody would get that one loud and clear.

  CHAPMAN: Besides, if we take it down now for some stupid reason, it’ll just appear on other platforms. Better to kill it with silence.

  BILSON: It’s not sitting in silence anymore. It’s started to get views. This new version of the video is dangerous. We need to stomp it down, now. Deal with it somehow, before it ends up dovetailing with this Revelen mess and breaks out of the firewall we’re forming around her.

  Dave blew air between gritted teeth. That was a tall order.

  JOHANNSEN: I agree. Just make the damned thing disappear. If it’s not on the major sites, it’s not going to get around. If you keep it out of the mainstream, it’s a lot easier to ignore.

  CHAPMAN: Mark my words, if you try and snuff it out, you’re going to inadvertently give it more oxygen than you can possibly imagine. Virality is my business, and the more you try and blot these things out, the quicker they spread. If you ignore it, it’s a lot more likely to go away than if you make a concerted effort to strangle it. People notice strangulation. They don’t notice lack of coverage.

  Should he weigh in? Probably not. If Chapman and Johannsen were going to argue over it, and Bilson and Chalke were going to land on Johannsen’s side anyway … then it was going to happen, probably. No reason for him to trade swipes with anyone in the process. Not if he wanted the scoops to keep flowing. And he sure as shit did.

  BILSON: Do it anyway. It’s a distraction from the narrative. Let it come out after she’s dead, then it won’t matter, we can shout to the heavens that OHHH, SHE’S DEAD, SO SADZ and have an Irish wake or a Viking funeral or whatever. But we need her gone first. Priority one.

  Dave just stared at that, frowning. Man, she had seriously pissed off the wrong people. He didn’t care; he had his own reasons to dislike Sienna Nealon, but damn if Russ Bilson didn’t absolutely despise the shit out of her for some reason. Chalke, too. Dave got the general idea about her being an impediment to their plans, and definitely got the worry about what she’d done to Harmon—though he wasn’t a hundred percent clear on how that had exactly unfolded. He was on board with the program, because the smartest kids in the class, who were light-years ahead of everyone else, told him this was the direction to go. And kept throwing the raw meat of scoop after scoop in front of him.

  He’d be a fool to go any other way. Flashforce’s traffic was up double digits from the clicks their exclusives were bringing in.

  KORY: I’ve got some stuff running to try and keep drumming up the hate on her. But if we’re trying to get her dead—

  He didn’t even blink at typing that.

  —then isn’t it kinda up to either the Revelen army or our own military? Given where she is?

  CHALKE: Yes. But we need the public support so we can continue to back that play.

  Well, that seemed easy enough, Dave thought.

  BILSON: What the hell is happening right now?

  CHALKE: Oh, God. Gotta go.

  Everyone else logged out in a hurry, the blips next to their names going offline quickly. Dave stared at the screen for a moment, then shrugged and put it away. His pulse quickened as he hurried out of the stall.

  When he made it back into the bullpen, he found out exactly why everyone had logged off.

  And then he really wished he hadn’t.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO

  Sienna

  “So … you’ve been getting into a lot of trouble since last we saw each other,” Reed said as I pulled my face off his shoulder. I wasn’t crying, honest. It was just a little emotional release considering it had been a few hours since I’d last encountered anyone who wasn’t trying to murder me, that’s all. “I kinda figured after I handed you over to the cops that your trouble days were done for a little while, but no … less than a week later and here we are, in a foreign country, and you’ve blown up … everything.” He surveyed the mess as his whirlwind came down and a whole crapload of body parts fell with it. And blood. Gallons of blood. “And I came along behind you and did this.”

  “Reme
mber back when you were a baby innocent and flinched at the idea of killing anybody, let alone meat-grindering a bunch of Russian mercenaries into … whatever the hell you want to call that?” I looked at the damage he’d done to those guys and … well, there weren’t a lot of cohesive body parts left anywhere around the remains of the camp. It looked like a fine slurry of red had been laid down, with dust mixed in for good measure. Kinda gross. I made a mental note to detour around.

  “I call it my sister being herself,” Reed said, surveying his work with a disapproving eye. “Russian mercs, you say?”

  “Yep.” I gave a nod. “Hired by ol’ Hades himself to guard his lands. Not local patriots but hired hands, and some pretty murderous ones at that, so you can rest your head on the pillow with a clear conscience tonight knowing that you didn’t kill anyone who didn’t richly deserve it.”

  “Thanks,” Reed said, turning away from his mess. “That’s a real consolation.” He fixed me with a serious stare. “What the hell is going on around here? Hades is alive? He’s dropping buildings on you? The US government is about to start a war to get you back—I mean, seriously. Is there anywhere you go where you don’t just leave a trail of absolute disaster behind you?”

  “This is coming from the guy who literally made a Ninja blender out of air and tossed in an army.”

  “I was trying to save your life,” Reed said, cocking his head in disappointment. He looked back. “I … was saving your life, right? Because it occurs to me that I kinda waltzed in right in the middle of this, and they might have been taking you prisoner or something—”

  “They’d just talked about skinning me alive, and not in a metaphorical sense,” I said. “You were on solid ground—also in the metaphorical sense—in doing what you did. Hell, another couple seconds and I was going to pull my pistol and turn this into a suicide-by-merc to avoid drawing things out the way they wanted to. So …” I drew a deep breath, and hugged him again. “Yeah. You totally just saved my life. Again.”