Friday, October 11th 2013
12:01 A.M.
Camilla found the last few days to be terribly frustrating.
Bad enough that she was trapped on the base, playing these ridiculous games; she'd finally reached her limit with Paul Martinet. Having now come to absolutely despise his political gamesmanship for the express purpose of sinking his claws ever deeper into an organization that she'd spent over half her damn life building, protecting and maintaining. Five years on, and he was still a clumsy, late-to-the-party interloper compared to her!
Bad enough his entire administration was filled with nothing but swaggering bravado, useless saber rattling, and efforts dedicated to intentionally destabilizing a fragile accord that took decades to build, and which he'd never spent more than a few minutes even trying to understand. It wasn't that he was outright evil or cruel for the sake of cruelty: more he was thoughtless and callow. Narrow minded and possessed of tunnel vision almost to the point of blindness. And when he wasn't crafting policies and procedures that completely dehumanized those under his oversight - including and especially poor Max! - he was weaselling around trying to change the rules to suit his agenda.
Let's be honest; the situation with the Wayden Amendment reauthorization was absolutely the last straw. It was just a matter of time before he and I had it out for good.
And then there was all this goddamned bloody onerous bureaucracy!
She was never a fan. Granted, there was a need for it. Of course, there had to be rules, a logical and structured order, but it was Camilla's experience that in most government agencies, that order tended to grow into something downright cancerous.
Bureaucracy was at its worst when it could be weaponized, just as Martinet had done. She'd spent the past few days volleying back and forth with the auditors telling her side of any countless numbers of previous missions and encounters, clarifying clarifications, and providing context when context should have been bloody obvious. She and Paul spent the last day conversing only through terse emails, the situation having grown chilly enough to the point where they could no longer stand to physically talk to each other in the same room.
Damnit! I should have pushed to be made Director when Robertson retired. I mean actually thrown my hat into the ring, as it were. If Gore was President at the time, they probably have have asked me, outright.
Bad enough she was here when she should be out in the field, leading her team, trying her damndest to make sure Max was safe! Working around the clock to bring her back to…
…to...
...oh bloody hell.
Camilla knew damn well that bringing Max back to Zion Control was never part of the plan.
From the moment her young protégée - through the agency of whatever miracle transported her to New York City - slipped her bonds and gained her precious freedom, Camilla was painfully aware that the situation going forward would teeter on the edge of an incredibly sharp blade. Besides, she had to be here. If the situation was as dire as she now believed, the contingency plan she meant to execute was dependant on certain short-range fail-safe interlocks that required on-site engagement.
She reached underneath her desk, fingers tracing across and then around the heavy, metal object taped underneath. She gripped it, and then pulled down, until she was cradling it in her lap. If her calculations were right - and after more than a quarter-century as one of the smartest women on Earth, they always were - Martinet and his entourage would arrive in the next thirty-eight seconds, give or take three.
Closing her eyes, she let out a slow, controlled breath and reflected back on the conversation she just concluded with Shimiko a minute earlier.
"I'm...forgive me, Camilla." the Asian woman breathed out. It was clear she was struggling to keep emotion from coloring her voice - compared to herself, Shimiko tended to wear her heart on her sleeve. "It would appear that our security was compromised. Naturally, I ordered a full audit of all procedures as soon as I ascended to position of Chairwoman of the Mitsudaimyo."
"Of course you did, dear heart." Camilla murmured affectionately as she spoke into the special communications device encrypting the line between them.
"You should see what I've had to work with! Far too inefficient and open to exploitation. It's amazing the Zaibatsu weren't co-opted earlier, and…" Shimiko paused, her voice catching in her throat. "I...I wish you could see what we're doing here, Cammie-chan. What we're going to be doing in the days to come. You should be here. We should be doing this together, like we'd always planned."
"I know." Camilla breathed out. "Life has a way of making a proper mess of all our fancy plans and desires, Shimmie. You shouldn't - "
"It's my fault!" the other woman interrupted, notes of suffering splashing through her otherwise controlled tone. "I should have pushed harder to bring our security up to a proper level, sooner. We managed to take care of the compromised agent, but it's clear that that Martinet has enough. By this point, I can't see how he doesn't strongly suspect Reese's involvement in the current situation."
"Pushing harder might have caused the defector in question to turn on you sooner...at completely the wrong time. No point in blaming yourself for any of it." Camilla paused, and then continued. "But yes. I won't even try insulting Martinet's intelligence by insisting I had no idea what was happening, that my intentions for getting Reese transferred to the Red Sun facility in Japan were purely innocent." She sat down at her desk and glanced over at one of her video feeds. Already, the Director was leaving his office, a look of determination intermingled with smug triumph emblazoned across his face. A pair of armed guards flanked him.
"Shim...there's no more time. He's already coming for me. I know there's so much more we could say, or wish we could do. But there isn't. I'm going to try and make him see reason, but I'm not betting my life that he'll listen. Or rather, I don't believe he'll comprehend. Once I'm gone, I'm counting on you to do the rest. To clean up the mess I'm about to leave in my wake. And...and to please do better - so much better - than the corruption that was the Specials Oversight and Administration Project in its final few years. You'll be queen of the heap by next week."
Camilla could practically feel the lump in Shimiko's throat, as she struggled to keep her voice steady and checked.
"I - I promise, Camilla."
"Oh, and Max. Of course. Promise me, if nothing else, that you'll take care of her. Make sure she's as much protected against whatever greedy elements may exist still inside the Zaibatsu as from the rest of the world. We've done horrific things to that poor girl. I can see that now. There's so many things we can still learn from her, so much good we can do for the world. For the purposes of peace and scientific understanding."
"I promise." Shimiko repeated, an edge of passion rising in her voice.
"For Alexandria." Camilla said, after a few seconds pause. The old Hypatian greeting and farewell.
"For Alexandria." the other woman replied. Before breathily and mournfully ending with, "K...koishiteru...wa."
At this, Camilla's placid control broke at last, holding back a sob of her own with a monumental effort, before replying with a very soft, "I...I wish we'd had more time, Shim. For ourselves. So we could have...". There was more, but she couldn't bring herself to say the words.
Immediately, she severed the connection, and then pressed several buttons, tossing the device into a nearby metal trash can. Seconds later, it burst into sparks, ruining it forever.
She reached up, wiping her eyes, opening them just in time to witness Martinet barge into her office without knocking.
Alright then. I suppose it's time to play my part.
She glanced up, narrowing her eyes in frustration and anger. "Excuse me, Director, but are we abandoning any pretense at decorum now? And what is the bloody meaning of this?" She smirked, waving a hand towards the guards. "Have things become so tense between us now that we can't speak without an armed chaperone?"
Martinet shook his head once; clearly, he wasn't having any of this. "Chief Field Agent Camilla Davies. As Director of the Specials Oversight and Administration Project, I am hereby relieving you of command of the Damocles Initiative, and placing you under arrest."
With vague, patronizing bemusement, she asked. "Arrest? Grand. What charges have you trumped up this time?"
"Suspicion of treason," he replied, refusing to rise to her bait.
He thinks he has all the cards here. Well, I suppose he's got most of them, at any rate. But not the ones that truly matter.
At this, she made herself show the appropriate amount of exasperation, sinking slightly into her chair, then snorting and rolling her eyes. "Oh really now, Paul! Is this how it works? The auditors haven't been able to dig up the dirt you're so desperate to find, so now you have to start abusing your damn authority!? I won't budge a single centimeter from this bloody office until I see an official order signed by the Secretary of Homeland Security himself!"
With no small amount of relish, Martinet reached into his suit jacket and pulled out the printed form. Walking over and slamming it down on her desk with a triumphant flourish, he murmured. "Just came out of the document replicator ten minutes ago. I believe you can verify the authenticity of the holographic seal. You invented the whole process personally, as I recall."
She bowed her head and glanced down at the warrant. It was a total show, of course, as she critically inspected each and every detail with a skeptical eye. But she needed to keep them off-guard for what was about to happen.
Lifting her head back up, she tilted it, smiling thinly. "Well, it certainly seems that everything is in order."
In one smooth, easy motion, she removed her hand from under the desk and held up the grenade as she pulled the pin. The guards immediately leveled their weapons on her.
They did not, however, fire.
But they were clearly unnerved. Glancing back and forth between each other, then to her, and finally to Martinet. Both of them were on the young side, having only recently come on board, if Camilla recalled correctly. No doubt, this would be the first official 'significant security incident' either had dealt with since joining S.O.A.P.
"Excellent work, you two! I distinctly remember the day Alanna gave you your training on how to handle a situation like this. And I'm pleased as punch that you listened, when she drilled it into your head that when a target is holding onto an explosive device rigged to a deadman's switch, you absolutely, positively do not wildly fire at them on reflex. Bravo. Smalls and Frazier, right? Good work. Director, please make sure they get a commendation added to their service records?"
She found the level of alarm - although not outright panic - this revelation produced in Martinet to be quite satisfying.
"What?! What the hell are you playing at, Camilla?!"
"Oh." She started casually. "Well, I think this is, as I explained a moment ago, a high explosive device. Packed with an unhealthy amount of a rather exciting compound I've been working on. The fuse is almost non-existent, so if I let up, it'll go off immediately." She sighed, waiting a few seconds for everything to sink in. "All right. Now look, there's no reason for everyone here to be held hostage. At least be kind enough, Paul? Let these two walk out, and then you come over and take a seat. This is between the two of us, because clearly, we need to have a chat. Believe it or not, there's still a chance we can work this out."
"Sir?" one of the guards inquired with trepidation.
Martinet breathed in hard through his nose a few times, before giving a slight, almost imperceptible nod of his head. "Go. Inform DHS of our current hostage situation." He then sat down, and locked eyes with her. "I'll stay here."
The guards slowly backed away, departing from her office. As they did, Camilla called out, "Please don't be alarmed, but communications are already d...oh hell. They'll figure it out on their own, in a minute." She took a long breath held it for a second, and then let it out, before breaking the ever widening silence stretching out between them.
"Oh Paul, you seem so glum." she said, breezily motioning with her closed fist, the one wrapped around the grenade. "Really, I somehow imagined you'd be much happier on a day like today. You'd been looking for something to hold over me for years, and now you've got it. No strident, triumphant declarations, no swagger and bravado for how I won't get away with this? I won't bother asking how you put it all together, because I know enough at this point to fill in the gaps myself. I mean, I know about that secret little black ops party of yours, the one you thought you successfully kept hidden, so I imagine that helped."
Marinet reacted with at least some surprise, his eyebrows darting up. But after a pause, he replied "This is no laughing matter." His voice was tight, his eyes narrowing in anger. "I'd like to understand how the hell you could turn your back and betray every principle, every oath you swore to an organization that you've spent over half your life serving! I know we've had, to put it lightly, major disagreements and differences of opinion...but did she really mean that much to you?" He leaned in. "Is Max Caulfield's personal happiness more important than that of millions, or billions of others in the world? More than everyone in New York City?"
At this, her joviality immediately ceased, and Camilla felt a dark anger creep over her features. "She was a thirteen year old girl, Paul." She locked eyes on his, boring intently with her gaze, her voice taking on a razor's edge of steel. " A girl who begged you point blank, on the day you kidnapped her from everything she ever knew, not to hurt her parents. And you bloody well did it anyhow, damn you. And then you proceeded to dehumanize the utter hell out of her! I know you so enjoy playing ethical calculus, trading the weight of one life against another, but if we don't treat one person with basic respect and dignity, how difficult is it to start pushing your boundaries outward? When does 'I'd sacrifice one person, but never ten.' suddenly become 'I'd sacrifice a million people, but never a billion.'?"
With barely a moment's thought, Martinet replied, "You remained a part of this organization the whole time. If what I did so offended your delicate sensibilities, why didn't you just resign?"
She snorted derisively, "Please! And leave her completely unguarded, to face your tender mercies alone? To leave so many others vulnerable as well? Rodriguez, Villanova...Reese?" She shook her head. "I suppose I was naive though, in thinking you'd eventually change. It's amazing, you know? Five years ago when you first started, I quickly came to dislike you, but I thought most of your issues were simply borne out of ignorance. That you'd eventually come to your senses, and that time and experience here in the realities of this organization would soften the worst edges of your neo-conservative sensibilities."
She poked down hard on her desk with a finger to emphasize her next statement, "Robertson. That man was a bastard, but he had more nuance in his ring finger than you will ever possess in your whole body. We disagreed on any number of things, but at the end of the day, I know bloody well that even he would pause, long and hard, at the notion of forcing a child into a program specifically tailored towards turning her into a weapon! I just...I spent so much time hoping I could get you to see reason. Obviously, I lost myself along the way." She started to bite at her bottom lip, "I was so blinded by optimism, by the notion that after fifteen years I could keep my own agenda, and the agenda of this organization relatively in sync." She shook her head in frustration, and then groaned. "Oh God, you really mucked up so much of what I was trying to accomplish. The whole bloody lot of it!"
Martinet tilted his head; the look on his face bespoke of any number of questions he wanted to ask, or snide pronouncements to lay down. It was clear that her last statement caught his attention. "Now what, exactly, is that supposed to mean?"
Leaning back in her chair, Camilla steepled her fingers together, cradling the grenade between her hands. "Right. Might as well tell you the story now, yes? I highly doubt either of us will get a chance to repeat it." She quietly gathered her thoughts together, before launching into her explanation, "You may recall, in late 1996, the UN Secret Council on Empowered Beings met to hammer out the latest version of the Shadow-Seven Accords. I was still head of research and development then, winding down from Project Opticon, so the Director at the time, woman named Finster, if I remember correctly, brought me along as an advisor. What most others don't know is that the Children of Hypatia took advantage of the gathering of so many Specials organizations in one place to call for their own - hmmm - shall we say 'shadow gathering'. It took a lot of delicate negotiation, and every bloody Null people could rope into the affair, but they managed to cobble together their own secret convention; temporarily neutral territory where representatives of every governmental and extralegal group could find common ground, with the goal of finding a way to lay down the decades of distrust and political chess games, and work towards a truly unified and global organization - even if its existence was only unofficial - that could help influence the world towards more a positive and egalitarian mindset.
"You went, of course." Martinet said, with a dismissive roll of his eyes. "Did you sneak out on your own, or did Finster send you?"
"Oh, she knew, she knew. Unlike you, she knew to trust my judgement, and I felt it was a valuable opportunity to gather real intelligence, as opposed to the kabuki the UN would be putting on for everyone. Certainly, the Hypatians were never a real threat; even before this convention, I had a kind of respect for them. Their stated mission of pure research, the acquisition of knowledge for its own sake, the dedication to protecting and preserving science, art, literature, medicine...all planning for the day where mankind might fall into a new dark age. But the whole weekend was essentially a wasted affair." Camilla gently shook her head, glancing down at her desk. "A lot of lovely speeches about bringing forth a new era of cooperation and peace, free from the strictures and agendas of the UN as a whole, or any one particular government. But even at age twenty, I knew enough to see it wouldn't last, or even actually take root. However, I did make the acquaintance of a lovely young woman from Japan, not much older than I was."
"Doctor Tetsumaru." Martinet said.
"Shimiko. Yes. I was absolutely thrilled, just giddy with joy, to meet someone so utterly like myself, for the first time in my life. Suffice it to say, we struck up an instant friendship, and promised to stay in close contact."
Instant friendship failed to impart the full depth of the relationship forged that weekend. There was more, far more. For the first time in her life, Camilla finally encountered someone else who could keep up with her, with the racing speed of her mind, and exactly how she perceived the world; the endless ideas that consumed them both. But it was so much more than that: as brilliant as she was, Shimiko was possessed of social style, grace and suavity that Camilla herself, ever the gawky and self-conscious teen at the time, painfully lacked.
Camilla, as inexperienced and unprepared as she was in those days, as totally uncertain of her sexuality, and still a virgin, fell hard. And yet, after their first time being intimate together, she was so overwhelmed that she felt the need to put some emotional distance between the two of them. Theirs had been an on again - off again affair, though they never could break free of each other's orbit...nor did they want to. Above all else, Camilla was keenly aware of how much that weekend, and Shimiko's influence, contributed to forging her into the woman she was today.
"So you two decided to join the Hypatians and take over the world together. Was that it? You thought you knew so much better than us mere mortals?" Martinet said in a snide tone of voice.
"Oh for God's sake, Paul, even you know me better than that, by now." she angrily chided. "In the beginning, it was such a simple little thing. We kept in touch, we worked on our own joint projects, we made a vow to influence the respective organizations we worked for. Working to guide them towards a path of scientific progress and inquiry, improving the world for the benefit of all. It was easier, back in those days, when S.O.A.P. still fell largely under the jurisdiction of Health and Human Services, and we were more concerned with scientific research and development than peacekeeping and military applications. But things suddenly changed. I'm sure I don't have to remind you why.
"I suppose not." Martinet said, chuckling unkindly. He then glanced up over at her shelf. "Will you kill us both up if I just go over and get a drink? I think I'd like at least one shot in me before I hear whatever other nonsense is coming up next."
"Noooo. You go right ahead. Bring a couple of glasses back, would you?"
Martinet rose up, smooth and slow. With equal deliberation, he walked over and grabbed a decanter of scotch and two tumblers. Camilla watched him like a hawk, holding up the grenade the whole time, as if it were a protective talisman whose powers she might need to draw upon at a moment's notice. Returning to her desk, Martinet poured them both half a tumbler of amber liquid.
Camilla mused, "Well then. Don't believe we've ever actually shared a drink together before. Oh, don't get me wrong, I've never wanted the pleasure, but it at least bears mention." She took a pull from her glass, watched as he slammed most of his back. "So let me ask you a question then: Why do you think the Cold War finally ended?"
He paused, clearly caught by surprise at this. He refilled his glass, and swirled the contents around, staring into it before looking back at her and asking. "How the hell am I supposed to answer that question, Camilla?"
"It's not a great trick. All those decades, and at the point near the end when some of the most dangerous hardliners were in charge of both our respective powers, real progress was suddenly made. Do you know why? An honest answer is all that I require."
"I see." Martinet took a more measured pull of his drink, and answered, "I suppose - and by the way, I'm finding all of this fucking petty and childish of you, pointless to the extreme - but I always believed it was because of the strength and moral clarity of the people you derisively look down your nose at as 'hardliners'. Reagan, for instance. He never backed down. He understood what the Soviet Union represented, and had no qualms or cold feet in calling them out. Once they understood who it was they were up against, the lengths he was willing to go to oppose the 'Evil Empire', it caused the Soviets to finally back down and sue for peace."
"Oooooh...that's…" Camilla blew a stream of air upwards, ruffling her platinum blonde bangs. "...one part of it. I suppose...to be fair." She straightened up slightly, giving a light laugh. "God, it's true what they say, isn't it? About history being written by the winners. But I'm afraid you left out a large part: it was actually Reagan's willingness to back down and compromise under the appropriate circumstances that made the difference."
"Bullshit." Martinet reflexively responded.
"History." she said in retort. "In the early Eighties, the world came frighteningly close to nuclear war, about as close as the Cuban Missile Crisis. With Andropov - hard as nails and just as paranoid - in charge of the Soviet Union and Reagan riding a conservative wave to power, the threat that someone was going to go off half cocked, thinking they had to make a pre-emptive strike grew to dangerous levels. By 1983, the Soviet Union began drawing up serious plans to actually launch one, having critically misunderstood the purpose of NATO's Able Archer 83 exercise. It also didn't help that the Russians had just spent the last two years beforehand anticipating such an attack from the US."
She sipped her drink again, and continued, "But one man, a KGB double-agent working in British Intelligence named Oleg Gordievski couldn't stand it any more. He broke his cover, for the sole purpose of gaining an audience with President Reagan. Gordievski effectively begged him to tone his rhetoric done. He also informed the President that Mikhail Gorbachev, who himself had been secretly working for years behind the backs of Russian leaders to lay the groundwork for more western style reforms, would soon be coming to power. And Reagan, to his credit, had the foresight and wisdom to appreciate Gordievski's sacrifice. Even though he'd still end up pursuing nonsense like the Strategic Defense Initiative, he finally sat down at the peace table and talked to the Russians. No, he didn't give away the store. Yes, he stridently made demands, such as tearing down the Berlin Wall. But gone were the days of "The bombing begins in five minutes." and instead he began talking about "My good friend Mikhail." Granted, for his willingness to work with the Soviets, his own political party excoriated him, called him a traitor. Not that it stopped those same people from elevating him to sainthood after the Soviet Union fell apart."
Finishing off what was in his glass, Martinet winced, placed it down on the desk, and asked, "Is this going somewhere, Camilla? Anywhere? Or are you just so in love with the sound of your own damn voice…"
She angrily interrupted him, "My point is: Yes, I have been something of a double agent myself! For years, I've stayed in this organization, struggling to keep it on a purer, and more noble path! And for years, I've watched those efforts bear limited fruit at best. But now, it seems that Incident 34 has become our own Able Archer 83." She held out her hands, in a pleading gesture, as she emphasized the first five words of her next statement. "This has to stop, Paul. You see the same intelligence reports I do. You're scaring the hell out of the rest of the world, at least the part that's aware of the existence of Specials. Certainly, Shimiko has become far more strident in the last couple of years, feeling that she had no choice but to acquire more and more power and influence, as she's watched you tie up the Chinese and the Russians in fits of panic. But the Zaibatsu? Under her direct leadership and guidance? They won't make the same mistakes. And while I don't think she relishes a fight, I know her well enough to be certain she has the stomach for it. But only if you force the issue!"
She swallowed, her voice softening, as she quietly added, "I'm asking you now: please stand down, and meet with them. Find a way for our two groups, as the only 'Specials Superpowers' left, to work together. Because I will tell you right now, we got very lucky in New York City. Had I not managed to contain the quantum inversion event when it built up to full strength, it could have more permanently damaged the fabric of space and time over a much wider area. Certainly, it would have shown everyone in Manhattan what it looks like to die in a nuclear disaster, so I'm sure you can imagine the public nightmare we barely avoided. Moral issues aside with the things you've done to Max - none of which I think I can ever forgive you for - there's the problems created by your strengthening her powers far past their natural limits. I can see that now. I fear we've created something far more powerful than we intended. Or can readily contain. We can't do this alone anymore."
She clenched her jaw, and concluded. "So that's alll of it. Yes, making sure that Max has a better shot, away from you, away from what S.O.A.P. has become was just a part of it. But this is about so much more. About growing the hell up, and working together for what's best for this planet. What happens from here is entirely in your hands."
They stared at each other for a long, silent while. A silence that was broken by the stifled laughter of Martinet. He quickly brought himself under control as best he could before speaking.
"Ridiculous. Listen to yourself! All these years you've played some sort of...of game! Feeding intelligence to a woman who's clearly been manipulating you this whole time with utopian dreams, while stroking your ego and soothing your conscience. Oh believe me, I'm aware of your relationship with her, it's been one of the worst kept secrets in this organization. She's been using you this whole time, Camilla! I can't believe I didn't see it earlier." He rose up, and began pacing back and forth, agitated. "Clearly, she wanted Caulfield from the beginning, and now you've tried to deliver Max up to her on a silver platter."
He sat back down in a huff. "Well, you go right ahead, you let go of that trigger,and blow us up to hell - not that I think you have the guts! - because I am not about to buy into any of this bullshit you're selling. Not when we're obviously so close to securing our supremacy! With or without me, this organization will continue on, long after they've scraped what's left of us off the walls of this office. Wright and her team are already positioned to bring Max back in. Another day or two, not only will they have secured her, but potentially several Zaibatsu assets for good measure. Someone else will take my place. And all you'll have done is make my point for me, about how dangerous Specials are compared to normal humans! This organization may be weaker for our losses, but that won't last long. Our key assets will remain in place. All of this was for nothing, Camilla. You've lost!"
Camilla bowed her head. She'd failed. That much was clear. Not that she had high hopes of success but…
...one can always dream.
"That, I'm afraid, is where you're very wrong." she said in a soft voice, the tone rising up as she explained, "When I'm gone, my death will be detected by the internal scanners. Years ago, when we were constructing PAN-Opticon, I developed a hardwired failsafe system. The idea was to completely destroy the sensor grid in the event it was about to fall into the wrong hands. I can see now that it's been in the wrong hands for years. So I've tied the trigger mechanism into my own vital signs." She slapped her empty hand on the desk. "This face off, between you and me? It's been coming for such a long time. It just took something like New York to finally force it out to the surface. So no. I'm sorry, but when you and I are gone, so goes one of the premier Specials tracking and analysis systems ever devised. It will take years for the US Government to even come close to replacing it. And after Shimiko's strike teams wipe out S.O.A.P.'s secondary storage sites with all of the key data this organization has collected over the years, it will be back to square one. I'm afraid at that point, all I have left is my faith that Shimiko will guide her organization with far more wisdom and dignity than you have led your own."
The look on Martinet's face showed the difficulty he was having processing the information. Disbelief, giving way to fury, before settling into a long, burning seething hatred. Clearly not willing to give Camilla any satisfaction in her moment of bitterly pyrrhic triumph, he hissed through gritted teeth. "Get on with it, then!"
Breathing in deep through her nose, she nodded once. "Shame. The gap between us. This gulf we can't seem to bridge. No point in drawing out, I suppose. Well, as they say in the Underground, 'mind the gap'."
She lifted her hand and casually dropped the grenade onto the desk, where it landed with a heavy metallic thud.
The seconds ticked away, and she looked over at Martinet, eyes closed as he braced himself for the end. Five seconds turned to ten. And then he opened one eye, glanced at her, and roared in frustration, as he took note of the thin, almost imperceptible smile of defiance she gave him.
He started to open his mouth to say something.
The massive explosion that followed rudely interrupted him.
A/N: Hey kids, it's Black Swan Friday. Lyta says "Banng!" and NQW says, "Too many n's." :)
So...I guess that's a mic drop no one is going to top, huh?
This is a complicated chapter for me. First off, writing it, and getting as close to the ending as I was at the time, it really made me focus not only where I felt Black Swan was succeeding, but where it failed or at least fell short. I never really intended to tell a really in-depth spy story...it was hard for this series, paralleling the game as it does, to not still be a bit more Donnie Darko, and less Mission Impossible. I never really intended to get quite into the world building that I did in the first 12 chapters, not at first, but there it is. I'm just sorry I never utilized those sets and characters to fuller effect, once all was said and done.
Still, I have an idea or two for a possible sequel, so maybe that will change.
Also, this was clearly a very political chapter. I say I don't like to get too political, and yet it keeps showing up in my work. There are similar themes in my first ME series, Once More Unto The Breach, and even Grande Dame has a somewhat utopian political bent to it. Still, I try not to get too unbalanced or biased, but I know I don't always succeed. A now-former reader of this series once gave me a particularly long and unhappy private critique before they stopped, and one of the things they strongly implied was how much they disliked the political tone of the series. So it goes.
That said, a lot of the historical facts that Cammie brings up actually did happen; Andropov was a bastard, Reagan was a bastard, and 1983 did see the world come super-close to nuclear war. Gordievski actually did break his cover in order to beg Reagan not to push the button, and as much as I otherwise despise the man, to his very great credit, there was a significantly marked difference in the tone and tenor in his dealings with the Russians between his first and second terms. Newt Gingrich gave Reagan public hell for sitting down with Gorbachev...and poor Gorbachev will never get all the credit he deserves in the end. Anyhow, it's fascinating history (to me at least) and it's interesting how few people seem to know it anymore. Anything beyond those facts are mere opinion.
Finally, there is no way I can't touch on the tragedy of what happened in Orlando this past weekend. It hit especially close to home, I'm afraid. I knew the bouncer who was killed. KJ was the best friend of a good friend of mine, and she briefly introduced us a few times. The local community here is really feeling her loss...she was a well known member, before she headed off to Hawaii to be closer with her family, and then ultimately moving to Florida a couple months ago.
I don't want to make this a long, overwrought rant, with any political calls, other than to say: I just want the world to stop being so terrible to other people who are unlike them. I want politicians to start taking responsibility for how their words and their laws create an environment that makes shit like this more likely. Don't give us your damn prayers, tell us how you're going to keep it from happening again in the future.
Anyhow, have a good weekend, folks.