Eleven
Senate Oversight Committee
World Government Headquarters
Former United Nations Building
New York City, Earth
23 August 2017
When word of the date set for Adrian Cobretti's appearance before the World Government oversight committee had been established, General Hammond's plan for travel from the Area 51 complex to New York City went into action. Jo-jo whisked the Sorceress off for a brief shopping trip for several outfits. One for the committee hearing. And one for her date. Hammond had suggested several places to dine in and around Washington, D.C., with several from President Alexander.
Hammond's group left the base the day before the session to land at Andrews AFB. From there, the general, Adrian and the Sorceress got into a waiting limo for the drive to the White House to meet briefly with the president to discuss the impending hearing. After that, President Alexander took them out to dinner on him at what he considered to be the finest restaurant in DC. Turns out, it wasn't a flashy five-star affair. Rather, it was what most would consider a hole-in-the-wall, mom and pop business whose cuisine was better than any five-star restaurant because the recipes had been in the family for generations. The president proudly informed the Sorceress that some of the best places to eat were establishments such as this one. Of, course, the Secret Service cleared the place for the length of the president's stay, but the owners were compensated handsomely for lost business; Alexander limited himself to only a few visits per month.
The next morning was an operation focused on a single objective: get President Roshenko's committee to back off from an overt attempt to supplant control of the Guardian Force. President Alexander's suggestion to Adrian was simple. Be himself. General Hammond and Adrian Cobretti nearly choked at the suggestion while the Sorceress kept her game face on.
After a brief flight to New York, they got into another limousine, and were currently on their way to the former United Nations building where the World Government oversight committee awaiting in the main hall.
"Exactly what do you mean by being myself?" Adrian asked, cautiously.
"I have read all the mission reports. I know of the effects caused by a session in the Horde mind sifter," the president said. "I want you to use your bouts of eccentricity to good use." When Adrian still didn't quite grasp what he was driving at, he resorted to an analogy Adrian was familiar with. "Remember in Iron Man II when Tony Stark had go before a similar committee and answer for what they called the Iron Man Weapon?" Adrian nodded. "Put Robert Downey, Jr.'s performance to shame. In your own way, of course. Wouldn't want his lawyers coming after us for some infringement or another."
"Of course," Adrian answered, not quite believing what he was hearing. He still didn't like the idea of going before the committee, since he was a terrible public speaker even when reading from a script. Answering to this committee on behalf of the Guardians as their designated leader still chaffed. Adrian turned to the Sorceress seated beside him. "I still blame you for this."
Sorceress sighed and rolled her eyes. "We have been over this," she said, studying the passing scenery outside.
At the President's inquiring look, General Hammond explained what happened. While the battlesuits were being upgraded with better armor and components, the Guardians, minus Adrian, had gathered for a vote. The topic: Who would lead them in all future operations. The concern was that, while the Val-kyrie training helped to further their development in the use of the battlesuits, and learn how to start working in teams great than one, they had no designated leader like the command structures in the military units. The Guardians needed one voice to speak for them and lead them on the path they must walk. The Sorceress knew in her heart who that leader should be, but was unsure of how to present her argument. Jake Rockwell had come to her rescue without knowing it; he was the one to suggest Adrian Cobretti lead them. While Jake occasionally fantasized about leading the team, he knew he was unsuited for the role despite his training. The memories he inherited from Gatling Arm's previous operator only reinforced that decision. War Wing was the command unit. Contained within his computer core was an untapped wealth of information that would make his operator better equipped to lead the Guardians as a team.
The vote had been quick and unanimous.
"I have never read anything to indicate that the Sorceress of Grayskull in anything other than trustworthy," the President said. "And yet you don't trust her statement that electing you as the leader of the Guardians was not her idea?"
"Well, if I acknowledge that Jake beat her to the proposal, I would have to find something else to needle her about," Adrian confessed.
The President looked even more confused. Adrian believed her, but refused to admit to it? The Sorceress came to his rescue before his mind ran in circles. "It's a Spock and McCoy thing. Or some such nonsense," she explained without turning from the window.
"Ah. Yes. Now it makes sense." Alexander paused, then added. "I'm getting the feeling that you enjoy it as much as he does."
Sorceress's head snapped around at that, but she said nothing; any denial she could made would sound hollow. Life inside Castle Grayskull had been quiet and uneventful, for the most part -and somewhat lonely. Although she would die before admitting it, the Sorceress did enjoy the bickering. Sometimes.
"I'm married, my dear. I've had some experience at these things," the President explained with a smile.
"Hmm," Sorceress said absently, returning her attention out the window.
General Hammond explained about the dinner date Adrian and the Sorceress planned before the mission to the penal planet. Their way of having something to come back for. A practice adopted from British pilots who were known to leave chess games, card games, etc. unfinished so that they had something to survive and return to.
"And everyone is blowing it all out of proportion," Alexander said.
"Way out of proportion," Adrian confirmed.
"That was why I suggested that they have their dinner out here somewhere where the eyes of the base can't reach," Hammond said. "Plus, I know a few places around D.C. that I highly recommend. The little place you took us to last night definitely made the list."
Alexander smiled. "I'm glad you approve."
The convoy of limos arrived at the former United Nations building in short order. The group was met at the curb and escorted into the impressive building. The session was due to start as soon as all the attendees had arrived.
Several aides led the wait to the main chamber where diplomats from the world's nations once gathered, and still did as part of the World Government, but today's gathering would be a lot smaller, much to Adrian's relief. Even so, the gathering of people numbered almost two hundred. The committee itself number only a dozen, seated at a half-moon table facing a sea of around a hundred seats formed into three sections. In front of those seats sat a table that could seat six, but would only have Adrian Cobretti and General Hammond. The Sorceress would be seated behind them in the first row of the spectator area.
A low murmur filled the chamber as people conversed about whatever people in their position talked about at times like this. Off the spectator's far right behind all those gathered to witness what was to come, two people studied the crowd. Specifically, General Hammond and his party. President Alexander was not with them as his presence was restricted to being an observer. General Hammond, Cobretti and the Sorceress spoke briefly before the general and Adrian took their seats.
The taller of the pair was an officer with the rank of lieutenant colonel. Angular features, slim build, and a head of hair with only a touch of gray; the officer kept himself in shape through regular exercise. His eyes, on the other hand, revealed a man only out for one thing. Himself.
His companion was shorter, fat from lots of good food and lack of exercise, wore glasses, an ill-fitting suit probably bought off the rack, and was sweating despite the comfortable temperature in the chamber. "This is going to be a circus. As the designated leader of these Guardians, Cobretti could have at least worn a tie."
"You've read the reports. He's unpredictable. Hammond will have no control of the proceedings. President wanted this committee meeting. The committee wanted the leader of the Guardians. They are on their own with this," the officer pointed out, eyes fixed on the woman who seated herself behind Cobretti and the general.
She was tall despite the black boots with one-inch heels. Hair so black it was shot with streaks of blue fell to the shoulders and was tastefully made up. Her clothes were conservative with a blue silk blouse, a knee-length black skirt and matching coat. A small medallion was nestled between her breasts on a thin silver chain.
Fat Man noticed the officer's scrutiny and followed his gaze. "You eying the girl? I admit she is good looking, but hardly worth such attention."
"Did you see the medallion around Cobretti's neck?" When Fat Man nodded, the officer continued. "He brought one of those suits with him. War Wing, if I remember correctly. The girl is wearing a medallion, as well. But it doesn't look like the pictures of the others in the files."
Fat Man put two-and-two together. "And you thought the girl might be another of the Guardians? Probably just a secretary, or something. Nice bit of eye candy, but hardly relevant to the venue."
"Perhaps," the officer said, distracted. There was something vaguely familiar about the girl, but he couldn't quite place where he might have seen her. While she appeared to be in her thirties, the eyes seemed somehow – older.
The session was called to order by the committee head, a man by the name of Vladimir Orskov, the Russian ambassador to the World Government. The other members of the panel consisted mainly of Eastern European and Mideastern nations. Not a good sign, as far as Adrian was concerned. All the nations represented were those who wanted a piece of the Guardians and the advanced technology they represented. The Russian Premier wanted Sonya to return home to Mother Russia with the Hawk battlesuit.
"Sergeant Cobretti, you are aware of why you have been asked to appear before this committee?" Vladimir said, opening the proceedings.
"Yes," Adrian answered. "I am aware of the reasons for being ordered to appear. And it's Guardian."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You should address me as Guardian Cobretti. I am an operator of one of the Guardian battlesuits. Said operator is referred to as 'Guardian,' not whatever rank they held before."
Vladimir consulted briefly with his fellow panel members. He turned his gaze to General Hammond. While the general didn't say a word, the look on his face was clear. The World President wanted this. He got it. They were on their own. Hammond would answer any questions regarding the Guardian Force. Anything dealing with the battlesuits and their operators would be directed to Adrian Cobretti.
"Very well, Guardian Cobretti," the ambassador acknowledged. "Now, with regards to the Guardian weapons-"
"You can't have them. Case closed."
"The case, as you call it, is most certainly not closed. The World President feels that the disposition of the battlesuits must be re-examined."
Adrian and the general looked at each other. They suspected this had been the purpose of the committee formation.
"I acknowledge that this issue had been examined after the battlesuits were recovered from the sanctuary moon, and that an agreement had been reached," Adrian explained. "Both Great Britain and Germany were on board with leaving the suits where they are. Your president refrained from commenting. Only after we began to understand their true power did the Premier clamor for a piece of our action. Fishy, fishy."
"Serge- Guardian Cobretti," Vladimir caught himself before Adrian could jump on him. "The battlesuits belong-"
"To themselves," Adrian cut the man off. "You are aware that they are sentient? While they may be machines, they still have awareness. And, please, we are machines in our own right. What difference does it make if life is biological or mechanical?"
"The battlesuits represent a technological boon for Earth. That must be explored," the ambassador from Iraq persisted.
"Exploited, you mean," Adrian translated.
"I wouldn't know about that."
Adrian couldn't help himself now that he was getting on a roll. "I certainly hope not, being a politician and all. C'mon! Is it really so hard to understand that these weapons are alive and have consciousness? Hopes? Dreams? You tear them apart to see what makes them tick and you will destroy what took almost a thousand years to evolve. That's murder."
"They are machines," the ambassador from Jordan said. "Nothing more. Now tell us the truth of these machines."
Adrain's hand slamming down on the table top echoed like a gun shot in the chamber. Hammond jumped, but recovered quickly. "You can't handle the truth!" Adrian snarled. "You don't want to handle the truth. You people want to bury your heads in the sand while tearing apart the only defense there is at keeping the Horde at bay. Did you really think we drove them away two years ago? No. They just had something more important than us to deal with. If you think they won't come back, think again."
"Which is exactly why the battlesuits need to be examined in depth, their secrets learned and put in to use to protect this planet," Vladimir interjected.
"That's already being done," General Hammond said. "Guardian Command was created to use the battlesuits to their best advantage. They cannot fight a war on their own. The Guardian Force had been created a thousand years ago to support the suits and their operators. That continues today."
The Russian ambassador let out an exacerbated sigh. "And to date, very little in the way of technology has been released by your command, general. And we were just informed of your alliance with a powerful race of female warriors whose technology could be of great help in our defense."
Adrian considered the ambassador's statement. His words were echoed by the other members of the panel. "So, you think you are worthy of what they have to offer, huh?" Adrian mused. He and Hammond locked eyes. The General shrugged absently. Arian looked over his shoulder to the Sorceress. Her shrug was slight, but spoke volumes. The lifted left eyebrow suggested that he give the Russian what he asked for. Turning back to the row of politicians, Adrian said, simply, "Okay."
The chair slid soundlessly on the carpet as Adrian shoved himself back. He rose and stepped around the table. There as a nice open space off to the right. Touching the glowing crystal medallion, War Wing began to expand and wrap Adrian in a suit of black and silver armor that could have come straight out a Marvel movie. The crowd buzzed at the sight, but the real show was still to come.
Once out in the open area, the suit flared white and altered further. The silhouette changed shape to resemble the twelve-foot battle mode form. The flare faded away leaving the winged suit standing in place facing the committee.
Hammond leaned back in his chair and turned slightly to mouth to the Sorceress, "At least he remembered to deactivate War Wing's weapon systems."
"Are you sure?" the Sorceress asked, eying the towering battlesuit. When the general didn't answer, she added, "That's what I thought."
War Wing appeared to be disarmed with the shield and plasma rifle nowhere to be seen. That didn't mean Adrian couldn't call up those items in an instant, however. As for the cannons mounted in the head and collar, the committee would just have to trust that Adrian kept his word to bring the suit with all weapons disarmed.
Seams formed in the armored chest and panels swung open to reveal Adrian Cobretti sitting in chest/abdomen area. He was now dressed in the black jumpsuit with gray across the shoulders. The command patch was present on the left shoulder and the War Wing battlesuit patch on the right. Adrian nimbly climbed down to the floor and gestured to the Russian ambassador.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Adrian challenged. "You need an engraved invitation with gold edging? A little script writing on the face?" A wave of chuckles swept through the audience.
"Are you suggesting I go inside the battlesuit?" Vladimir said, showing no sign of getting up.
"Unless you have a better way of finding out if you are worthy of what they have to offer," Adrian shot back. He turned to the audience. "Anybody got a phone? Someone give the ambassador a phone! He has to call the Premier for permission." More chuckles and a few heckles from the crowd. Adrian turned his attention to the ambassador from Jordan. "Premier for permission. Premier for permission. Say that five times real fast." The man cracked a smile in spite of himself.
The Russian rose from his seat and walked over to stand before the suit, looking uncertain about climbing up inside. Making comments about the weapons of war was one thing, interacting with one was something else entirely. The man's hesitation only confirmed what Adrian and Hammond suspected. No one on the committee had any idea as to the true nature of the sentient weapons or how to properly utilize them. All they saw was what was essentially a multinational group of six people in command of weapons more powerful and technologically advanced than anything Earth had yet to produce. Everyone wanted a piece of that tech for their own ends if for no other reason than feeling left out of the loop.
"That's it. Climb up in there. War Wing won't bite," Adrian goaded.
Vladimir settled himself in the seat. "Now what?"
"Just sit back and enjoy the ride," Adrian answered. He jumped down to the floor, and the battlesuit closed around the ambassador.
Whistling, Adrian strode to General Hammond's side of the table where he pulled out an empty chair; the one presumably placed there for the Sorceress. He dragged it out in front of the general and centered it up facing War Wing. "What do you think?" he asked Hammond.
The general looked from the chair to War Wing and back. It was a distance of about twenty feet. "Looks a little long, son."
After a brief consideration, Adrian agreed. "You're right." He pushed the chair forward until it was positioned opposite his own chair at the table. Instead of returning to his seat, Adrian plopped himself down on the table, whistling, swinging his legs back and forth and occasionally checking a watch that was not strapped to his left wrist.
"How long is this going to take?" one of the committee members asked.
"As long as it takes," Adrian answered, absently. "Could be minutes, hours, even days, though I doubt it'll take that long." After another long minute or two, another member of the committee opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when Adrian held up a warning finger. "Four…three…two…one…"
Panels snapped open as fast as the actuators could go, heart-stoppingly fast. Issuing a strangled cry, Vladimir came flying out of the operator's compartment as if he'd been shot out of a cannon. The man struck the floor about eight to ten feet out and rolled a few times eventually coming to rest up against the chair Adrian had prepositioned.
"Nice form, Vlady, but ya gotta stick the landing," Adrian explained, lightly. "I don't think you're gonna be taking home the bronze."
Vladimir was breathing heavily from his experience inside the battlesuit. Face flushed, beads of sweat breaking out all over his face and neck, the Russian glared at War Wing. "T-that-that thing probed my mind, and then kicked me out!"
Shaking his head sadly, Adrian scolded, "Bad move, Vlady."
What happened next took everyone by surprise. Adrian kept his face locked in an impassive mask – barely. General Hammond stared in open astonishment. The Sorceress' eyes widened in shock, but she recovered quickly. There were many gasps, a few cries of terror and a general sense of near panic as the four-meter-tall battlesuit began walking.
Gabe's team had theorized that an AI could affect self-mobility without an operator inside. The symbiotic relationship involved the suit's use of an operator's senses for balance and coordination like an organic gyro that supplanted the one built into the suit. Gabe had wanted to run a suit through some mobility tests; after his team got this report, they could move on to something else.
War Wing's movements were slow and measured, but they were astounding nonetheless. The right foot crashed down with a muted boom. A whine of hydraulics punctuated the movements of the left leg.
"What is happening?" Vladimir demanded.
Adrian rolled his eyes. Only a Russian would ask the obvious. "He's going to step on you and pop you like a zit, what do you think?" he snapped. "I wanted this committee not to refer to him as a 'thing' or an 'it,' but you people are a lot slower on the uptake than I gave you credit."
"Call him off!" the ambassador practically screeched as War Wing successfully took to steps closer.
"Not gonna happen," Adrian sighed. "You see, he hasn't stepped on any Horde troopers in several weeks. I kinda owe him." As the battlesuit took another step, Adrian hopped off the table and moved away from the oncoming Guardian. "If any of you have ever been to a Gallagher show, you know how messy this is about to get," he advised the first few rows of people.
Frozen in place by terror, the ambassador screamed, "What do I do?"
Showing true anger for the first time, Adrian moved back to the table, slammed his hands down on its surface, and snarled, "You want to save yourself from a gruesome end?"
"Da! Da!"
"Then apologize!" Vladimir opened his mouth, but Adrian cut him off. "And mean it! You got one shot at this, Mister Ambassador. Make it count."
War Wing raised his right foot. He stood perfectly balanced with his right foot ready to descend on the cowering man.
"I-I-I apologize!" Vladimir screamed. He was bordering on hysterics by now, eyes glued to the Etherium-shod foot poised to mash him into the carpet. "I'm sorry I called you a thing. Clearly…clearly you are much more than what you started out as. I'm sorry!"
War Wing's head turned. The optics behind the green lenses focused on Adrian. AI and operator stared at one another for long moments. A slight tilt of his head to the right and a raised eyebrow was his only response. It was more than enough to tell War Wing that the decision was his. Wing turned his head back to the cowering human staring up at the underside of his right foot. The tension in the chamber rose. The committee members and the audience seemed to be holding their collect breaths waiting on the outcome.
With an animalistic growl, War Wing swung his foot back and slammed it to the carpet less than a foot from the ambassador. To his credit, Vladimir didn't implode in his pants on the spot, but it was probably a very close call.
"Well, thanks for the invite," Adrian announced. "It's been real entertaining, but it's time to go." War Wing opened for his operator to climb up inside. Once safely out of sight of everyone in the chamber, he said, "Nice job. Guess Gabe can cross self-mobilization off the list."
"I really wanted to step on him. One less worm on this world," the AI responded.
"Waste of effort. They breed like rabbits. Kinda like lawyers."
"You owe me," Wing said.
Sighing and rolling his eyes, Adrian promised, "I'll add you to the list over Mirriam."
Astonished, Wing quipped, "You're giving me top billing?"
"I saw you first. Besides, you showed remarkable restraint in not vocalizing. Thank you."
"You did stress the need to not reveal certain upgrades the Val-kyrie gave us."
"And you did splendidly. Now, let's get out of here. I've had enough of this political crap," Adrian said.
A white flare covered the battlesuit and it shrank down to the human form combat armor. From there, the armor retracted into the medallion hanging from a silver chain. His clothes had transmuted back into the semi-formal ones he had worn to the meeting.
"We're done here," Adrian declared, heading for the nearest aisle.
"We announce when the meeting is adjourned," Vladimir countered, having recovered some of his former bravado.
Adrian rounded on the man. "You wanna take your chances with War Wing again? It can be arranged. No? Then we're done. You can't have the Guardians. Can't control them. And you certainly can't have them for dissection. Anyone – anyone – who comes to take the suits by force will be sent home in bags." His gaze bored holes in the Russian ambassador. "Tell your Premier that if he wants Hawk, he must decide how many of his armies he's willing to rebuild from scratch when it's all over."
General Hammond and the Sorceress had to hurry to catch up to Adrian. No one stood in their way as the trio left the chamber.
"That was impressive," Fat Man observed.
"Your grasp of the obvious is impressive," the colonel said, offhandedly. Having seen a Guardian and examples of that one could do, he was more convinced than ever that they had to get ahold of one of those suits for study. His organization was working on reverse engineering a suit, but things would go faster if they had one for study. Somehow, they had to get one even if it meant sacrificing entire armies to do so. Perhaps the Russians…
"President Alexander said to be yourself, son, but – Jesus," Hammond chuckled.
"Too much?" Adrian asked, innocently.
"Strangely, for you, not so much," the Sorceress answered. "I just hope that display isn't an indication of what it would be like to be married to you."
Grinning wryly, Adrian commented, "Oh, no. That would be much more entertaining."
Sorceress had slowed her pace. When she felt certain that Adrian was out of earshot, she said, "That's what I'm afraid of."
"Would you like a chaperon for your dinner date?" Hammond asked, innocently. He wasn't entirely successful at suppressing a grin.
The woman fixed him with a steely look. "I'm quite old enough to make my own decisions."
"Well, let's hope this one is quieter than the last one," Hammond said. He was referring to an incident a few months back when a group went into Las Vegas for a night on the town. The night was partially ruined by a group of thugs who thought they could play rough with Colonel Markson and the Guardians. They discovered differently. Not long after the incident, the same thugs disappeared without a trace.
Hammond decided to ask a favor of President Alexander to ensure history did not repeat itself. If it did, he doubted Washington, D.C. would survive it.
80