AUTHOR'S NOTE: We're swinging into the last few chapters of ORW VII here. I figure we've got about seven or eight chapters to go, possibly less. This will be the last kind of "talky" chapter for awhile; once Operation Tsunami starts, it's nonstop action from there!
As always, reviews are appreciated. It's what keeps authors writing...
Over the Pacific Ocean
400 Miles West of Cape Blanco, Oregon Dead Zone, United States of Canada
12 May 2002
Blake Belladonna was having a rather odd dream. She felt like she was floating weightless in space. It wasn't unpleasant, just strange. Something was across her face, but it was blowing cool air across her lips, so she didn't mind. She wondered what exactly was going on, but it felt nice, so there was really no reason to stop it. After all, she wasn't flying the airplane.
Blake's eyes snapped open and she grabbed the stick and throttle out of instinct. "Whoa, Blake!" Ruby warned. "I've got the aircraft! Let go!" Blake blinked, took her hands off, and tried to wake up. She looked around the cockpit of the F-18D. All the gauges and readouts were normal. They were flying above the Pacific Ocean at 32,000 feet and 450 miles an hour. Fuel was on internal and was a little low, but still well within safety limits for their journey. She smiled beneath her mask. That's right, I let Ruby take the aircraft so I could get a little sleep. It explained her weird dream.
"You awake?" Ruby asked.
"Yeah, now I am…sorry about that." She raised the visor on her helmet, took off her gloves, and rubbed her eyes, then put everything back into place. She checked the navigation display: they were still about two hundred miles short of their goal, the USS Ronald Reagan, which if everything was going to plan should be about 400 miles off the coast of old Washington. Blake flexed her fingers and legs, as much as she could in the tight confines of the Hornet's front cockpit, and relaxed. Then she idly checked the clock. "Holy crap, I've been asleep for three hours?"
"Yep," Ruby confirmed. "Didn't see any reason to wake you up. Weather's clear and there's nothing to see but water." It wasn't quite true—they could just barely make out the Oregon coast to their right, on the horizon—but other than that, there was nothing but blue: blue sky above shading to almost black, and blue water below. "I checked in with the Barrier ships. Nothing to worry about."
Blake fought down a yawn. "Damn, I must've been zonked to have missed that. You want to keep flying?"
"Sure! This is really a sweet bird." Ruby rocked the wings just a little. "I held off on the aerobatics. I figured you'd really freak out if you woke up upside down…but I think I could pretty much fly this in combat if I had to. Feels weird to have a stick between my legs—okay, that sounded kinda dirty—rather than have a side stick, but that's the only thing."
"The F-18 is remarkably easy to fly," Blake said, which was true. Compared to the F-14, which could be temperamental, the F-18 was rather docile. Even a green pilot like Riana Arashikaze probably could do basic aerobatics with a bit of training; an experienced pilot like Ruby would find the F-18 almost ridiculously simple. "Any contacts?"
"Nope," Ruby reported. "I've kept the nose cold anyway. IFF is sweet."
"Probably a good idea." GRIMM rarely ventured out over the Pacific—the Wyvern attack that sank the Cushing the year before was rare—but it did happen. Seaborne GRIMM like the Feilong were a different story, but they were too high for that to be much of a threat. Still, Blake thought, looking around, they were flying alone. It was a chance they had to take.
Ruby Flight had split up the day before: Yang and Weiss had left for Vulcan in Alberta; Yang would join Ace Flight, while Weiss would rendezvous with Velvet Scarlatina and Fox Alistair at Vulcan and continue on to the hidden base at Comox. That left Blake and Ruby to fly in the former's Hornet to the Reagan. They had left the day before, returning to Luke in Arizona, then left again early this morning, flying over southern California well out over the Pacific before making the turn north. It was hoped that one aircraft would not alert any watch stations Salem's forces might have in the old Dead Zones, in the unlikely event those even existed, and Raven's pirates were keeping her promise to leave traffic alone. Still, Blake would've felt better with a wingperson out there. It was an old fighter pilot adage that one never flew alone. She stared down at the Pacific far below them: the ocean was known to swallow entire aircraft whole without a trace. Despite that, Blake couldn't fight back another audible yawn.
"You can go back to sleep for a bit," Ruby said helpfully. "It'll be another hour before we're close to the carrier."
"No, it's okay." Blake unstrapped her mask for a moment and took a drink from a baby bottle of water that she kept in her survival vest. "Sorry. Just didn't get much sleep last night."
"You were tired yesterday too."
"That was your sister's fault." There was silence from the backseat, and Blake laughed as she put her mask back on. "Relax, Ruby. Nothing like that is going on. She got me to watch Mystery Science Theater. They had a marathon on the Sci-Fi Channel back at Peterson. We were up until two in the morning, so I got about three hours of sleep. I'm still dealing with a sleep deficit."
"Oh, I gotcha." Ruby snickered. "Yeah, MST3K is pretty damn funny." Another pause. "You know, Blake…it's none of my business if you and my sister, y'know…do things."
"I don't think we're at that stage of the relationship, Ruby." Blake sighed. She and Yang had an understanding now, but it still felt strange. They slept in the same bed together, they hung out together, and several times they had been naked in front of the other, changing clothes and such. Yang had told her that Blake could make love to her if she wanted, any time she wanted, but otherwise hadn't asked. It was like their relationship was in a limbo between being best friends and being lovers, and Blake wasn't sure if she wanted to keep it that way, take the next step, or hope that Yang lost interest.
"For what it's worth…you have my permission, Blake. As Yang's sister. I mean, that sounds weird, but…I'm okay with it." Ruby sounded unsure of herself, confronted with a situation that she didn't understand. "At least, I think I am."
"I appreciate that, Ruby." Blake decided to tell Ruby about what she and Yang had spoken about at Vandenberg, which took up another thirty minutes of flight time. During the conversation, both women kept their heads moving around, quartering the sky. There were no clouds, but GRIMM could be small and hard to spot visually, and they killed pilots that thought they were safe.
"You know, it's kind of weird," Ruby repeated. "I mean, I don't want to sound, um, homophobic? Is that the word? I just never thought Yang was bisexual."
"She didn't think she was either, until last year. Hell, for that matter, I didn't think I was. I still don't know, really."
"I can't imagine that. Liking girls. I mean, I've thought about it—I guess everyone does. But I mean…I just don't know if I could."
"Oh? You and Weiss were naked together in the shower back in Las Vegas," Blake teased. "Weiss said you even hugged her."
"Well, yeah, but I was like, really drunk and she was cleaning me up after I puked all over both of us." Ruby snickered. "You know, I can't imagine eating Weiss out. She'd probably be lecturing me the whole time anyway. 'No, circle the clitoris counter-clockwise, Ruby, you dolt!'" Ruby did a fair approximation of Weiss' accent.
Blake burst into laughter. "Oh, that's a mental image I didn't need. You're probably right, though. Poor Marrow—" The RWR alarm suddenly went off. Both women's eyes instantly went to the threat display, which showed a cone from the northwest.
"Blake, what do I do? How do I punch off the tanks?" Ruby asked.
"Hold on. I think someone's being cute." Blake reached forward and switched on the radar. The F-18 was not really configured for dogfighting at the moment—it had four large drop tanks under the wings, but it also had two Sidewinders on the wingtip rails and two AMRAAMs beneath the rear fuselage. She next checked the IFF; it was on and transmitting. "Unidentified aircraft, this is Fast Eagle Four Zero Four. Buddy spike, buddy spike." To Ruby, she said, "I've got the aircraft." If it came to a fight, she needed to fly the Hornet. Ruby wasn't quite experienced enough for that.
"Your aircraft." Ruby let go of the stick and throttle. The contact was at sixty miles, too far for the AIM-120, but they would be in range soon. She got ready to dump the empty tanks in case it turned out to be hostile.
"Fast Eagle Four Zero Four, Skull Two Zero Zero. Just saying hi." The RWR spike disappeared, and Blake recognized Richard Jaeger's voice, the commanding officer of VF-84.
"Roger, Skull. We will cancel filling flight suits with brown organic matter." Blake relaxed. "It's okay, Ruby. That's my CO."
"Your CO normally lights people up?" Ruby asked.
"He did have to identify us. He's on BARCAP."
"Uh-huh." Ruby sounded less than sure. A minute or two passed, and then she said, "Tally-ho, Tomcat, eleven o'clock high."
Blake looked in that direction but saw nothing; she missed having her F-14's Television Camera System under the nose. Then again, having Ruby along is like having a TCS anyway. After about another few seconds, she finally spotted the F-14, high and to the left. It flew over them seconds later—not too close; Jaeger obviously wasn't taking the joke too far. The big interceptor curved around and came up alongside. Blake couldn't help but smile: Jaeger was flying his own aircraft, the only one in the squadron with full-color markings, sporting VF-84's Jolly Roger flag on both tails and a black and gold stripe down the fuselage side, the nose numbers highlighted in black and yellow rather than just the normal block style. As they closed up a little, Blake saw the backseater raise her visor and take off her mask, to make faces at her. Blake threw Terri Suul a good-natured middle finger, and Ruby took off her mask to stick her tongue out. "You remember my backseater, Ruby?" Blake asked.
"She's hard to forget."
"Fast Eagle, Skull, switch to Channel Three." Blake made the switch in frequencies. "Welcome back, Fast Eagle," Jaeger radioed. "What's your state?"
Blake made a quick check of her fuel. They had plenty, and she reported that. "How's things been, Skull?" she asked.
"Quiet. Calm before the storm. Good to see you. The carrier is at sixty miles, bearing zero-one-one. We are on EMCON, more or less." Blake understood. The carrier had all but essential electronics shut off, to make it harder for GRIMM to track. It would rely on the E-2 Hawkeye and its F-14 BARCAP to warn them of any targets. Of course, Blake knew, a smart enemy could deduce that there was a carrier battlegroup around based on the E-2's radar emissions and the F-14's, but that still left a huge swath of sea to find a comparatively small target. "I have a personal message for Fast Eagle Four Zero Four Bravo."
"Bravo here," Ruby reported. "Send it, Skull."
"He doesn't know you're coming. Understand? He doesn't know."
Ruby blushed. "Roger that, Skull."
"No sweat. Enjoy the trap. We'll leave you to it, Fast Eagle." Jaeger waggled his wings, Terri made another obscene gesture, and the F-14 peeled away to head back to its station. Blake turned slightly to the new course to intercept the carrier. "So Oscar doesn't know you're coming in?" she asked.
"Guess not," Ruby said, and Blake could hear the anticipation in her voice. "Blake, this going to be so cool! Holy crap...I get to see my guy...oh shit, Blake, I'm shaking back here-"
"Yeah, yeah," Blake replied, with feigned boredom. "Just don't break anything on him. Tsunami begins in 48 hours, remember?"
"I know," Ruby sighed. "Oh well."
"You going to tell him?" Blake's eyes met Ruby's in the rearview mirrors set into the canopy bow.
"Yes," Ruby replied simply.
"Good."
They flew on for another twenty minutes, then the Reagan contacted them, and Blake got ready to land. Below them, ships started appearing—first the picket destroyers, out on the outer rim of the battlegroup, more than Blake was used to seeing. After that came the next group of destroyers, the inner ring of defenses, plus a handful of cruisers. Blake spotted the Saipan and Guam, the amphibious assault ships—smaller aircraft carriers that carried Marine helicopters and Harriers, plus the Marine Expeditionary Unit that would make the assault on Bremerton. She assumed that Otome Higurashi and her Delta Force operatives were already aboard. In the distance, she spotted the Theodore Roosevelt, a sister ship to the Reagan. It was the biggest armada that Blake had ever seen.
"Ruby, are your straps tight?"
"Yep!" Ruby replied.
"Okay, here we go. Into the downwind leg here…" Blake noticed her own heart rate beginning to increase a bit, though it should be an easy enough landing—the seas were calm—but no arrested landing was quite routine. She pulled back on the throttles to lower her airspeed, then dropped flaps, landing gear, and tailhook. "Roughneck, Fast Eagle Four Zero Four, at marshall."
"Fast Eagle, Roughneck. Roger that. Begin your approach. Check your needles."
Blake glanced at her glide slope indicator. "Left and centered."
"Concur." She was on course to the carrier. The water was much closer now, and the Reagan's stern was in view. They passed by the plane guard destroyer, there to pull them from the water if Blake and Ruby had to eject.
"Fast Eagle Four Zero Four, call the ball," the LSO radioed.
"Hornet ball, 9.0." Blake's eyes were moving constantly now, checking her altitude, the movement of the carrier, the strand of lights that was the vertical drop line, telling her where the stern of the carrier was relative to her height, and the all-important Fresnel lens "ball" that kept her lined up. The lights were green and the ball was dropping, indicating she was set up correctly for a landing. "You're fast," the LSO advised. "Pull off some power." Blake eased the throttle back a bit. "A little high." She eased the F-18 down a little. "Steady." The deck was now racing up to them. Blake did a quick check and saw no wave-off lights.
They hit the steel deck a second later. Blake instantly slammed the throttle forward in case they boltered, but there was the welcome feel of the hook catching the arresting cable and the sudden deceleration. She slapped the throttles back to idle as the cable took the slack, and just like that, they were aboard. "Ruby, you still with me?" Blake asked; the other woman had been quiet the whole time, which Blake was thankful for. Ruby was too professional to ask questions on approach that might distract her.
"Yep!" Ruby called out happily. "Wow, that was neat!" The hook-runners disconnected the arresting cable, Blake raised the tailhook, and she followed a yellow-vested crewman's hand signals to a parking space forward on the deck. "Jeez," Ruby said in awe, "that's a pretty damn small area to land in. It looks big in pictures, but it's really not."
"About the size of the average house," Blake told her. "We touch down on the porch and we stop at the back door."
"What happens if you don't stop? We go into the drink?"
"That's why I ran up to full power," Blake explained. "If we missed the wires, we would've boltered—gone off the angle deck. At full power, no biggie—we just go around and try again. But if we didn't have full power, we go swimming."
"You know what?" Ruby said as Blake opened the canopy. "I think I'm going to stay in the Air Force."
"Smart girl." Blake waited until a plane captain placed the ladders, climbed up and safetied both seats. Ruby climbed down first, very gingerly, and reached the deck, then Blake followed. The deck crew was already safetying out the missiles and tying the F-18 down to small metal grates set into the deck every few feet. Ruby weaved for a minute. "Whoa!"
Blake laughed. "It moves!"
"It sure does." She looked at the horizon. The sea was still calm, but the ship did noticeably go up and down on the water. "You know, I've never been on a ship before…'cept for Dad's rowboat on Lake James back home when we went bass fishing."
"Well, stay by me. It's very easy to get lost on a ship this size." Blake motioned Ruby to follow her into the island structure. They hadn't gone far inside before someone called out, "Captain Belladonna? Lieutenant Rose?"
Both of them turned and had to look up. The man that confronted them was easily 6'5", which would put him just at the maximum height requirement for a naval aviator; his thin build made him appear even taller. His head was shaved to the point that there was just a thin amount of hair there, which was either so blond as to be nearly the shade of Weiss' hair, or he was prematurely gray; it also made his ears very prominent, almost elven. He wore khakis, but there were wings on the nametag. Blake smiled. "Oh, hi, Hatman. Ruby, this is Lieutenant Jim Nilsson—Hatman. He's Oscar's roommate. He's with VFA-41 as well."
"Oh," Ruby said, trying to hide her disappointment and failing miserably. "Hi there."
Hatman grinned at her, which was a bit frightening. His hands looked like they could palm her head. "You must be Ruby Rose." He stuck out a hand. "Nice to meet you. Oscar talks a lot about you." He paused, and the grin got wider. "He doesn't know you're here. Commander Jaeger ordered us to keep it a secret." Ruby gulped audibly. "Ma'am, I'll show you down to the equipment shop and you can change, then take you back to the room. Captain Belladonna, you've been ordered to report to CAG, immediately. He's in CIC."
Blake wondered why the commander of the Reagan's air group wanted to talk to her, but she nodded. "I'll catch up with you later, then. Don't get her too lost, Hatman."
"No problem, ma'am."
Hatman took Ruby down a deck and forward down to the equipment locker; Ruby managed to trip over one of the hatch coamings only once. The corridors were narrower than she would have anticipated, with pipes overhead and corridors branching off to unknown locations. Even here, she could feel the ship move, though just barely; otherwise, it felt like being back in Cheyenne Mountain. Once inside, he showed her a locker with no name on it, and she hung up her helmet, mask, survival vest, and G-suit. Now she was in her flight suit, which luckily didn't stand out among the similar olive drab suits worn by the Navy pilots—only her patches and nametag would give her away as USAF. As they left, he pointed out where the ready rooms of the various squadrons were in this section of the carrier, which would be easy enough to remember: VFA-41's had an ace of spades on the door, whereas VF-84 had the skull and crossbones.
He led her down a too-steep companionway and down two more corridors, past more sailors who stood at attention to let them walk by, and a few officers who gave them murmured greetings. Ruby thought they looked tired, and a little on edge, but while Operation Tsunami was likely not public knowledge yet, even the lowliest boilerman couldn't have helped but notice the presence of another carrier and the two assault ships. They went down a third corridor, and Ruby was now truly lost. "Okay, Lieutenant, a few things," Hatman told her as they walked down a long corridor, lined with doors with various names printed on them. "We have a place for you up one deck and down the hall there—that's where the female officers go. Male personnel are not allowed down there unless it's official business, and they have to be announced. From what the CO told me, you'll have a place to yourself, since you're a guest onboard—lucky you. Down here it's pretty much guys. Women aren't supposed to be down here unless they're on official business too. Which you are."
"I am?" Ruby asked.
"You're on official business." Hatman emphasized the last two words.
"Oh…right. Yep, totally here on official business!" Ruby confirmed.
They stopped in front of a room. Listed on the door was LT (JG) PINE and LT NILSSON. "In fact," Hatman continued, dropping his voice, "your official business should take about, oh, six hours. I have the watch in about thirty minutes, so you'll have the place to yourself until then."
"Hatman," Ruby said quietly, "are you implying that Oscar and I are going to be engaging in a conjugal visit?" She turned bright red as she said it.
"Lieutenant," he replied, "I'd be damned disappointed if you didn't. Oscar's been kinda off since he got back aboard back in Florida. I think he's been worried sick. I got a girlfriend back in port myself, and I guarantee if she was here, Oscar would suddenly need to be on the hangar deck for a few hours." Hatman looked her up and down. "We heard about what happened in Poland. For what it's worth…you did the best you could. Oscar and Blake say you're a good stick, and that's good enough for me." He reached down and adjusted her collar. "All right. Don't wear the poor guy out. He's got the midwatch tonight in the ready room. Blake will probably call down if there's something that you need to do before I get back at 2300."
"Okay." She reached up and slapped him on the arm. "Thanks, Hatman."
"Don't mention it, Lieutenant. Besides, I wouldn't miss this for all the tea in China." He raised his voice and banged on the door. "Yo, Oscar! Get your ass out here!"
Ruby's heart started pounding as she heard footsteps across a tiled deck stomp angrily closer. The door was undogged from the inside and flung open. "Dammit, Hatman!" Oscar Pine shouted. He only wore a pair of boxer shorts. "You lied to me! You said the CO wanted me confined to quarters and he totally…didn't…" Oscar's voice trailed off as he saw Ruby standing there.
"Hi," she greeted him with a wave. "I was in the neighborhood and decided to drop by."
"Bu…buh…R-Ruby?" Oscar stammered. He reached out and took her shoulder, as if to reassure himself that she was real. "What…what are you doing here?"
"That operation that we've heard about," Hatman explained. "She and Blake just came aboard."
"But…I heard about Blake, but not…" Oscar glared at Hatman. "You fucker. You knew."
Hatman only smirked at him. "The whole squadron's known for the past six hours, dumbass. I wish I had a camera to get a picture of your stupid face right now. We'd stick it on the ready room wall."
"You are such an asshole!" The smile on Oscar's face betrayed his true feelings.
"Yeah, yeah. Always with the compliments. Anyway…" Hatman gave Ruby a gentle shove towards the door; she nearly tripped over the coaming again. "I should be back around 2300. Remember, you've got the duty tonight, Oscar. And use protection so she don't come up preggers. You're too young to be a daddy. There's some rubbers in the desk drawer." He threw them a crappy salute and sauntered off.
Oscar took a quick look down the corridor, but there was no one there aside from Hatman, so he carefully helped Ruby into the room and shut the door behind them. "I can't believe you're—" He was cut off as she crushed her lips against his. "Oh. Well, hello there."
"Hello yourself." She looked around the stateroom. It reminded Ruby of Yang's college dorm room. It was wide enough to turn around in, but only just, between a row of lockers and drawers, a fold-down desk, and two bunks. On the bare bulkhead in front of her was an intercom, some kind of numbers that might as well have been hieroglyphics to her, and a few pictures that Hatman and Oscar had taped up; prominent on both walls was a picture of a leggy blonde in a swimsuit, and one of Ruby herself in a flight suit. She guessed the other girl was Hatman's girlfriend, and was very happy that Oscar had never gotten a picture of her in the alleged swimsuit she'd worn in Florida.
Oscar was all she wanted to look at right now, however. He reached out and smoothed her sweat-plastered hair back from her face. "I can't believe you're here," he said, his voice thick with emotion.
"I can't either," she replied. "But here we are." She kissed him again. "So I guess we've got six hours, maybe less. I mean, Blake went to see the CAG—whatever that is—and maybe they call us sooner—"
Oscar unzipped her flight suit and led her over to the lower bunk; she kicked off her boots. His boxers came off along the way. He turned red and swallowed as he eased the flight suit off her shoulders; Ruby was wearing red lingerie underneath, silky and sheer that showed more than it hid. "I knew I was going to see you," she whispered, "so I wanted to make it right."
He nodded. "It's…wow…it's…yeah."
She stood up and got the flight suit off, then reached into a pocket of the suit before it fell to the floor. She pulled out the engagement ring he had given her in Florida. Her hands were shaking, but she managed to put it on. Oscar's eyes filled with tears, but so did hers. "I will," Ruby said, her lips trembling. "I'll m-marry you…if...if you still want me to…"
"Like nothing else in the world," Oscar managed to get out. "God…I love you, Ruby Rose."
She sat down onto the bunk, then stretched out. "I love you, Oscar Pine. Think you can help me out of these?" She plucked at the bra straps on the lingerie
Oscar drew the privacy curtain, cutting off the outside world.
Former Boeing Field
Ruins of Seattle, Washington Dead Zone
12 May 2002
Doctor Adrian Merlot took a seat in front of the monitor. The communications room, like most of Merlot's facilities in Seattle, was underground. Boeing Field was far enough from Puget Sound that it had avoided the inundation of much of what had been Seattle's waterfront, caused by the collapse of various seawalls, so he had been able to build or refurbish underground facilities that were already there before Seattle had been abandoned. He had been there for over five years, carrying out his research in the ruined city. Merlot didn't mind; he enjoyed the quiet.
One of his staff members turned from her own monitor. "Doctor, Mistress Salem should be online in about five minutes." She had a slight Russian accent: about a third of his staff had come from Salem herself, from her own people. The others were either locals hired on with the promise of regular food and shelter, or those "recruited" in Las Vegas, who now had nowhere to go. There was nothing more than a fence around the field, but there were very hungry predators that roamed the ruins—some animal, some human.
"No hurry, Eva." Merlot regarded his reflection in the monitor and smoothed some of his hair back. His hair and beard were completely gray, and stuck out at odd angles; his left eye was covered in an eyepatch and his right hand was metal, both courtesy of an experiment that had gone wrong. No, Merlot corrected himself, not one that had gone wrong, just a solution that had not worked.
Finally the screen flickered to life, slightly fuzzy, but it was being bounced off three satellites, none of the owners of which were aware that their signals were being piggybacked. The signal also had to go through several hundred feet of solid granite at Mount Yamantau. Salem's visage stared back at him. Merlot was always impressed by her: her skin was as white as his hair, her eyes a fascinating shade of blood red against a black sclera, her lips bloodless and pale, her hair pulled back into an elaborate halo of braids. The face was of a woman half of Salem's actual age; there was very little wrinkles. He wished he could get more than just blood samples from her, to find out why a woman who had absorbed enough radiation to turn her skin and eyes that color was not only still alive, but generally thriving. She wore only a simple robe, and from the wall behind, he assumed Salem was in her own private quarters. "Good evening, Doctor—I suppose it's evening where you are," she said, her voice made slightly tinny by the distance.
"Good evening, Salem." Merlot never called her Mistress, but Salem never seemed to mind. "I wanted to give you a rather urgent update."
"I thought it might be," Salem said, "since you're not supposed to contact me otherwise." Merlot thought he detected a slight hint of irritation in her voice.
He decided to get right to the heart of the matter. "I have reason to believe the Area 51 site has been compromised. We lost contact a little over a week ago. We've since reestablished contact, but the site tells me that there won't be any more shipments for quite some time—apparently the base is being watched now, by the US military. Or so I was told. According to the Las Vegas press that we've been able to intercept on the internet, a large stealth GRIMM strike was foiled on the city. We had not scheduled another attack on Las Vegas from Area 51, so I can only assume that Hanlon Fifestone and/or Zira Zietan triggered the Omega option there and launched the emergency GRIMM from their silos. I haven't been able to hack a good satellite feed to confirm it, but if that's true, then there's no way that the Americans haven't figured out where the strike came from. Moreover, whoever I talked to was not Fifestone or Zietan. I know their voices, and they're the only ones that communicate with me."
Salem closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. "There was always the chance that would happen." She opened her eyes again. "Very well. Then we must also consider that Fifestone or Zietan have been captured, and likely have talked."
"They're both rather hard cases," Merlot said. "Are you sure they would talk?"
Salem graced him with a pitiless look. "Everyone talks, Doctor, and neither Fifestone nor Zietan owes us any particular loyalty—Zietan in particular. Her loyalty is money."
"But neither of them were aware that the subjects—er, workers—are brought here to Seattle."
"They likely put it together. If not them, then others. They may not have figured it out yet, but they will." Another sigh. "We must assume Seattle has been compromised as well. You have a plan to evacuate?"
Merlot nodded. "Of course, Salem, but…has it really come to that?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so. How long would it take to break down everything and move to the alternate site in Oregon?" Her eyes slightly narrowed. "Do not lie to me, Doctor."
"I wouldn't think of it," Merlot lied. "I would say about a week." He did not lie about that. For one thing, Salem's people were loyal to her, not him-most of the time.
"Make it three days, Doctor. Hide what you can, destroy everything else. Once the Americans lose interest, you can come back and get the rest."
Merlot was appalled. "Three days? Salem, I can't do that—"
"You will," she overrode him. "It will set us back quite awhile, but better that than lose everything."
"My test subjects—some of them can't travel—"
Salem opened her mouth to reply, then was distracted by something offscreen. "Just leave that, Leto. That's fine. Thank you; you may go." She spoke in Russian, which she wasn't aware Merlot could speak. Or she didn't care, he considered. She turned back to him. "My apologies, Doctor; that was the maid. In the case of those who cannot travel, you'll have to kill them." Salem held up a hand to forestall his protests. "It can't be helped, Doctor."
Merlot muttered a French curse. "All right. It will be done as you wish, Salem. But there could be delays of a day or so."
"I understand, Doctor," Salem replied, "but you should understand this. Given Fifestone's importance, and Zietan's, there's a very good chance that they were interrogated by Rissa Arashikaze of the CIA. If so, and if they gave up your name, then she will stop at nothing to find you. And you know why."
Merlot swallowed audibly. That was a very good point, he considered, a very good point indeed. It was why he was working in an underground facility near a dead city. "Of…of course, Salem. I'll get started immediately."
"One last thing, Doctor," Salem said. "About the experiments…for me." There was a note of worry in her voice, which Merlot knew that no one but him would be likely to catch.
Merlot let out a breath. "I'm sorry, Salem," he said with genuine sorrow. "There's been no results yet. Naturally, I'll keep trying, but with this move…it will likely set back that as well." He paused. "And I have one last thing as well…something we picked up from the news feeds from Phoenix. I'm afraid it's not good news…or perhaps it is; I don't know."
"I won't know either unless you tell me." The irritation was back in her voice.
"Emerald Sustrai. Apparently she was killed in action over Las Vegas. She was given a full funeral with military honors and a flyover. She was hailed as a heroine. We regard her as a traitor, of course, but…I thought you should know."
Salem was quiet for a moment, and her eyes flicked downwards. "I suppose she would have liked that." Then she looked back up and nodded. "Thank you, Doctor. Let me know when the movement is complete and you can communicate."
"Of course, Salem. And I'll keep working as hard as I can for you. Merlot out." He nodded to Eva, who hesitated, but before she could say anything, Salem cut the communication off from her end. Eva stared at him. "Doctor, you didn't tell her about those mercenaries you hired."
"Briar Flight? No reason to tell her." Merlot got up. "We'll use them to cover our retreat if necessary, and then we'll quietly shoot them. Until then, they will serve the purpose they were hired for. They're just pawns, nothing more. All right? No reason to bother your czarina." He put just enough of a threat into his voice.
Eva looked unsure, but she nodded. "Yes, Doctor." He saw the fear in her eyes and was glad of it. Eva would keep her mouth shut. She was one of Salem's people, but the last person who had defied Merlot personally had ended up on an operating table. The results had not lived long, fortunately.
Merlot walked out of the communications room, his hands behind his back, mentally doing calculations on how long it would take to move everything. It would realistically take two weeks, not one. He didn't share Salem's caution. Fifestone hadn't known about Seattle, and Zietan was too much of a fool to have figured it out, Merlot thought. There was time. Salem would be angry, perhaps, but she would eventually understand.
After all, Merlot mused, he was the best chance Salem had left.