Team Omega (37 page)

“I was raised to believe in an America that was a shining example to all the other nations, a great symbol of what humans could achieve if they weren't burdened by the past, if they were allowed near-complete freedom to live their personal lives as they saw fit, an example that other nations would eventually seek to emulate.  As I grew older, I realised that our government was often betraying the ideals of its founders and actually making life worse for people around the world.  Those facts were known to the population, but the government didn't care.  Who could remove them from power?”

I thought he was no longer American,
Jackson thought, cynically.

“
We
have removed them from power,” Hope concluded.  “I ask you all to trust us and let us solve the problems that have bedevilled the country for the last fifty years.  There are those who would lash out at us because of patriotism, or because of ignorance, or because they benefited from the previous administration.  To those, I say only one thing.  Don’t.”

He walked off the stage, followed by his fellow superhumans.  The reporter started to twitter into the camera about The Meaning Of It All, just before Lane turned down the volume and stood up, standing in front of the television.  His voice, when he spoke, was grim and determined.

“The Saviours have taken control of our country,” he said, sharply.  “They may manage to force the civil administration—all the state governments and law enforcement agencies—to remain at work, or the government may simply melt away, to be replaced by chaos.  We are already seeing an exodus from the cities; I suspect that it will get a great deal worse in the very near future.  Our country has been occupied by an enemy force and all of the old certainties no longer exist.

“I won’t hide the facts from you.  The military is scattered and we have very little communication with other units, even the other elements of Team Omega.  We may be alone in this fight, unable to coordinate our activities with others who will fight for American freedom; we may have no more supplies than what we hid away in this basement for the day when we might have to operate as an underground force.  This situation could easily see us all killed without any hope of defeating our enemy.

“But I swore an oath to uphold the United States, and that oath hasn't been rescinded just because the country has been occupied.  I won’t run away; I can't.  I’m in this until we force the Saviours to leave our country and never return, or until they kill me for resisting their rule.  You all swore similar oaths, but we never really considered that the country could fall to foreign occupation and that we might wind up alone, fighting an insurgency in our own backyard. 

“If any of you want to walk away,” he concluded, “this is your chance.  There’s no dishonour or disgrace in walking away, not now.  I won’t fight this war with anyone who isn't wholly committed to fighting until we win or we die while trying to remove the enemy from our country.  You have the skills to blend into the civilian population or make it to Canada or even Mexico, if you want to run further.  But if you choose to fight now, you are committed to the fight until we win or die.”

There was a long pause. 

Chris broke it.  “I didn’t vote for the President,” he said, “And I’ve been in this job long enough to know that there is a gap between our ideals and what we have to do to maintain the United States.  Maybe the President is an utter scumbag and his administration are all crooks, but that doesn't give Hope the right to remove them by force.  The military didn't have to remove Nixon by force; it didn't have to prevent Reagan from pushing Bush into the White House, even after the population had rejected him.  I don’t see Hope’s actions as any different, or any less wrong.

“And besides, the Sergeant would come back and kick our asses if we let him die for nothing.”

He stood up and saluted.  “I’m in, Captain,” he said.  “Anyone else want to follow us until death?”

One by one, the rest of the team rose to their feet. 

“Thank you,” Lane said, finally.  Jackson wondered if he saw a tear in the Captain’s eye.  It was probably just a trick of the light.  “We need intelligence to act, so our first priority will be gathering that intelligence—and then we will show Hope that he cannot beat the United States of America just by capturing the White House.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The British Embassy in Washington, DC had been spared the effects of Hope’s invasion, Matt was relieved to see.  There had been no logical reason for Hope to attack the embassies—it would annoy the rest of the world, as if there weren't enough reasons to worry about Hope after his attack on Libya—but Matt suspected that Hope wasn't being guided by logic and reason.  The Redeemer had pushed him into attacking Washington for reasons of her own, he’d decided, and killed someone who might have been able to talk him out of it.  None of that boded well for the Saviours.

There were several armed British soldiers outside the embassy, glancing at the plumes of smoke rising over Washington nervously as they held their weapons at the ready.  Matt couldn't recall if their presence on the streets was legal or not, but it hardly mattered under the circumstances.  The embassy might be besieged with former administration officials wanting out before Hope caught up with them.  And parts of Washington had dissolved into chaos despite the vast police presence on the streets.  God alone knew what would happen if the police decided to disband in the wake of the invasion.  Matt doubted that the city would survive outright riots suppressed by superhumans.

A trio of mutants appeared on the other side of the road and Matt watched them warily as they walked upwards towards the White House.  Hope’s decision to recruit mutants—to effectively grant them full civil rights—had paid off for him, if only because few other countries granted mutants any rights.  They couldn't pass for pureblood humans, even if they did have superpowers, and few considered them part of normal society.  Hope might have a few tens of thousands of additional recruits once his government bedded down. 

He stepped up to the soldiers and produced his SDI pass.  “I need to see the MI-13 representative,” he said.  The SDI and MI-13 had worked closely together in the past and there should have been an agent in the embassy for quick communications, but who knew what would happen now that America was at war?  “If he is not available, the MI-6 representative or the Ambassador.”

The soldiers checked his ID card carefully before waving him to a security booth.  Matt endured the search before being told to wait until someone from inside the embassy came to meet him.  The five minutes he waited were among the longest of his life, until a young woman wearing a Muslim headscarf—and carrying a sword on her back, for some reason—finally greeted him and invited him into the embassy’s secure rooms.  Matt was relieved to see that Dale Knight was still MI-13’s main operative in the United States.  They’d met before during happier times.

“Matt,” he said, with evident relief.  “It’s good to see that you’re alive.”

“And you, too,” Matt said, truthfully.  “I was afraid that the Saviours might have ordered you out of the country before I got here.”

“So far, they’ve said nothing,” Knight said.  He looked up at Matt.  “What the hell are they thinking?”

“I think they think they can do whatever the hell they like,” Matt said, tiredly.  He wanted to tell Knight everything, but he’d have to report it to London and the Saviours might pick up the message.  “Have you heard anything from New York?”

Knight’s eyes opened wide.  “The SDI building was completely destroyed,” he said, grimly.  “At last report, the entire SDI overt team were wiped out—they’d apparently been on standby in case the Saviours retaliated for the assassination attempt on Hope.  I’ve heard nothing since then, even through more...covert channels.”

Matt winced.  He’d
liked
the General—and now the man was probably dead.  Or, if he’d fallen into the Redeemer’s hands, probably worse than dead.  “Thank you for letting me know,” he said, grimly.  “I know it’s only been an hour or so, but what’s London’s take on this whole affair?”

“Last time I heard, the European Union Security Council was meeting in emergency session,” Knight admitted.  “Ever since Warsaw, the EU has been paranoid about superhuman attack—and what they might need to do to defend the continent.  London is apparently terrified about what will happen when—if—America’s nuclear arsenal falls into Hope’s hands.  Do you know anything about that?”

“Nothing,” Matt said, shortly.  If Hope had captured the President, the Vice President would take over—assuming that everything worked as planned.  But no contingency plan had really accounted for superhuman powerhouses.  The collapse of the military network implied that the Vice President might not be able to order the missiles launched, assuming that he was prepared to fire on Washington, DC.  “Is there any chance of help from the European Union?”

“Nothing has been decided yet,” Knight said.  “After what happened to Libya, and to the United States, there is probably going to be a certain reluctance to challenge the Saviours openly.  A lot depends on just how quickly Hope secures control of the country...”

Matt smiled.  “Do you
want
someone like Hope in permanent control of the United States?”

“No, but we didn't want someone like that nutty Colonel in permanent control of Libya either,” Knight pointed out.  “The cost of unseating him was always judged to be too high, by you as well as us.  And the cost of unseating Hope might be even higher.”

He hesitated.  “I can pass on your words to Sir Brian,” he added.  “He might agree to provide covert assistance to an insurgency.”

Matt shrugged.  Knight didn't really believe what he was saying, which wasn't a great surprise.  Hope’s reaction to Libya’s moves against the Congo had been a massive overreaction—the same could be said for his actions in America—and no one in the rest of the world wanted him coming after them next.  But it might not matter.  It was easy to wonder if the Redeemer had her own plans to take control of the world, using Hope as her weapon.  Just how deeply had she sunk her claws into his mind?  There was no way to know.

“I need to borrow one of your covert phones,” he said.  “Apart from that, I think I’d better make my way out of Washington.”

“It’s the least we can do,” Knight agreed.  “Just be careful.  We always suspected that Fort Meade was reading our emails—and now Hope has the NSA under his control.  Watch your back.”

***

The walk out of Washington had been nightmarish.  Matt had stolen a cycle and ridden it most of the way, only to run into a police barricade on the road leading out of the city.  There were thousands of civilians near the policemen, shouting curses at the cops and demanding that they let them flee Washington before the mad superhumans came to kill them all, but the cops refused to budge.  A very nasty riot was in the making, Matt decided, as he snuck through the barricade before the police started to use water cannons and tear gas on the maddened crowd. 

Once outside the barricades, it was depressingly easy to steal a car and drive towards New York.  The roads seemed to be empty, although Matt suspected that that would change very quickly if the police lines broke or they decided to just stay home.  He flipped through the radio, hoping to hear good news, but most of it consisted of chat show hosts speculating endlessly about what would happen in the future.  Some of the callers were completely insane, ranting about the End of Days, while others seemed to believe that Hope could hardly do worse than the previous government.  Matt rolled his eyes at the concept as he drove onwards, finally reaching New York.  His SDI ID managed to get him through the barricades this time, thankfully. 

New York seemed to be in chaos too, with shops being emptied of vital supplies by civilians who seemed to have only the faintest idea of what was going on.  The NYPD were on the streets in force, but not enough to stop riots from breaking out in a dozen different locations and threatening to spread across the entire city.  Large queues had formed outside the banks, people waiting to withdraw their savings; the radio claimed that the Saviours had already shut down most of the banks, intending to try the bankers for crimes against the economy.  It seemed that that, thankfully, was untrue; the situation would almost certainly be a good deal worse if people were denied access to their money. 

But it might not matter anyway.  If the currency plummeted in the wake of Hope’s invasion of Washington, the population might not be able to buy food and other necessities.  What would happen then?

He abandoned the car near the police lines around the SDI building, only to discover that a smaller group of Hope’s allies had taken up position and were searching the rubble for the remains of the overt team.  Matt felt cold anger flare through him and wanted to run at them, to tear them apart for what they had done, but his talents didn't lend themselves to fighting such powerful superhumans.  He did have tricks that might beat one of them, yet the others would tear him apart before he could take down a second. 

Not too far away, New York’s other superhumans had gathered near Central Park.  Matt wasn't impressed with most of them, even if they did have a remarkable amount of raw power.  None of them had served in the SDI, and most had never fought another superhuman.  So far, an uneasy truce appeared to be holding; Hope’s reputation was bad enough to cow even a mob of powerful superhumans.  Matt had no idea how long that would last, or what the New Yorkers could do if they decided to fight, but they needed a leader.  They needed someone they could all respect.  And those of them who knew Matt knew him as nothing more than an investigator for the General.

The streets seemed more crowded as he walked towards Hell’s Kitchen, keeping one hand on the pistol in his pocket.  New Yorkers were shouting angrily at each other as their cars became gridlocked, law and order breaking down despite the best efforts of the NYPD.  Everyone wanted to be somewhere else, preferably away from the city and the anticipated superhuman clash.  It was almost a relief when he reached Layla’s apartment and walked up the stairs. 
She
wouldn't have left the city until it was falling down around her.

“Matt,” she said, as he opened the door.  “You should have called ahead.”

Matt shrugged.  “The cell phone network appears to be dying,” he said.  “Do you know anything about that?”

“Someone has pushed themselves into the network,” Layla said.  Her face seemed almost bloodless.  “Do you know that I have never met anyone with similar talents to myself?”

“No,” Matt said.  Could Layla have found someone she could greet as an equal?  “What’s happening to the network?”

Layla smiled, thinly.  “Someone has taken over the main router nodes in the country,” she said.  “The internet, the cell phone network, even the secure data network used by the military.  All communications are being routed through that person’s mind, allowing him to scan for anything that might alarm the Saviours.  This person must exist partly in informational space, just like myself.  There’s no other way it could be done.”

“I’ll pretend I understood that,” Matt said, shortly.  Layla let out a chuckle.  “Are you saying that we cannot trust the networks?”

“Not at all,” Layla said, flatly.  “Right now, someone is scrutinising every single message going through the internet.  You send a message to one of your friends, and that person will see it.”

Matt shook his head.  “That isn't possible,” he said.  “There are
billions
of emails sent every day...”

“You can if you happen to be a superhuman with a brain that works partly in informational space,” Layla said.  “I plug myself into these machines”—she waved a hand at the mishmash of computers around her—“and I extend my mind into the space inhabited by computers—my mind works faster in there.  I could do what he does easily.”

“So we cannot depend on the networks,” Matt said, slowly.  “I assume that the SDI database is down, or gone?”

Layla smiled, coyly.  “Well, the
main
database has been taken out,” she said, and waited.

Matt took the bait.  “And what about the other databases?”

“Well,” Layla said, with a droll smile, “it just so happens that I used to copy everything from the SDI database into these computers.  Everything that was in them up until the moment they were destroyed is in here.”

“Right,” Matt said.  “And did the General know about this?”

“I thought it best not to tell him,” Layla admitted.  “It would only have upset him.”

Matt started to laugh. 

She cleared her throat.  “What do you want to know?”