So, you're stuck in a limousine heading towards an imminent trap, and you need to figure out how to warn everyone to escape it. This is definitely a requirement and write-in fodder
Well. This is quite a situation. Jamelia's mind whirs, even as her face remains blandly neutral. She catches Harlan's eye, raising one eyebrow at him. She idly tucks a stray lock of hair back into her hijab.
Harlan massages his temples, looking for all the world like an old man who's glad to be on the ground again. He doesn't like flying much at the best of times - not after Indonesia in '82.
Jamelia feels the old familiar feather-touch of his mind against hers. They're old friends. They know each other very, very well. But a little bit of psychic contact makes everything much more secure. Also, he's now her tutor for her still-rather-weak psychic powers. And she found out that he married her MiB clone as part of the whole 'raising her daughter' thing - and was comfortable enough to stay married to the clone until she died of organ failure. A bit of her wonders what that kind of life would have been like, if she'd taken the offer of retirement and become a bitter old woman raising her daughter in isolation, who the Union would never trust again. She doesn't regret it. That's what she tells herself.
But she keeps those thoughts down deep, deeper than the shallow fleeting contact can read. He'd just be an ass about things if he knew. Or worse, it would complicate matters in a way neither of them need right now.
"So, have you got over your air sickness?" she asks calmly.
"
We're being Berlin'd," Jamelia thinks.
Harlan huffs. "I got over that years ago. Stop bringing it up."
"
I see. So those damn Nazi werewolves are back."
Jamelia wishes she could let her facial expression shift, so she could direct a proper glare at him. "
The other
kind of Berlin'd," she thinks, and then rephrases. "
The kind where they're fakes being put in place after we'd taken out the real ones for Processing. Or taken them out more terminally."
"
You should be more specific. We did a lot of things in the Berlins," Harlan sends. He adjusts his glasses, and stares at 'Serafina's' chest. Which is a cunning way of concealing what he's doing, entirely natural because she's wearing a too-tight top, and - Jamelia thinks - a sign her old friend needs a slap for being a dirty old man. And... that was a decidedly Jazmin-ish thought. A Jazmin-y, Illiyeen-ish thought.
"
Hmm. Good notice. Finally making good use of your psi, even if you're weak."
"
Kessler caught it," she admits.
"
The tinhead keeps on being smarter than he looks," he thinks grudgingly. "Not that it's hard to be smarter than he looks. Of course, he probably has the advantage that he's spent a lot longer around them. Flaws in their PCW emulation. No active superego function."
She sketches out her plan.
"
I'm taking them into the private room along with Kessler - to take bullets for me if they strike now - to 'brief' them and warn them about the Engineers," Jamelia concludes. "
Handle informing the others. You're an old treacherous bastard who remembers how we used to do things. Do what you do."
"
You flatterer, you," Harlan sends back drily. "
With such effusive praise from an old treacherous bitch, how can I do otherwise?"
***
It's easy to get 'Donald' and 'Serafina' through into the EROS suite, and Jamelia makes sure to have Kessler with her and positioned such that she can easily use him as a blast shield if either of them turn out to be suicide bombers.
And people make fun of her for her height.
"So, big guy," 'Donald' says playfully, slumping himself down on the bed. 'Serafina' hovers by the door, more obviously wary. "What happened to the hair?"
"All my skin and hair burned off again," Kessler says. He's not lying, after all. He shrugs. "Dragon," he adds, as if it explains everything.
"Man, you spend even more time with your private parts exposed than me," 'Donald' says effusively. He looks at Jamelia, eyes narrowing. "So, oh glorious leader, care to explain how on earth you're intact and not some creepy psychic projection thingie - or whatever explanation Harlan came up with that used the word 'psychic' way too much? Because last thing I knew, your body was right here. And got..." he massages his neck, "... uh, a little bit blown up."
Jamelia doesn't even blink. "The body here was a fake. I had contingency plans for this sort of event. Why do you think Director Aristide showed up?" All perfectly true. Entirely misleading, but true.
"People died here trying to protect it," 'Serafina' very nearly accuses. She sounds like she's barely holding herself together. Again.
"The New World Order can't allow the brain of a Senior Operative to be left where it's at risk to hostile action," Jamelia says flatly. "You know that, Dr Rosario."
'Serafina' winces, and swallows. "Sorry," she says in a little voice. "I've just been a bit... wobbly since... well, Rose and... and all the younger ones and..." she sighs. "I'll be fine."
Jamelia leans forwards, and lets some kindness enter her voice. "You know last time we talked, I did suggest that it would be useful if you started considering antidepressants or other chemical means for dealing with the stress of Moscow. This can't have helped. Have you at least been taking some mood stabilisers?"
She nods. "A low dosage," she admits. "I have some bad reactions to some of the more common types, so I need to be careful with them."
That sets Jamelia's mind whirring. Now, that's not in Serafina's file. Is that something she's been keeping secret, something that's a flaw in the clone, or something that the clone is deliberately letting out to try to get Jamelia to feed it mood stabilisers so she'll give away that she knows that it's not Serafina because Jamelia Belltower is not, by and large, inclined to murder most of her subordinates usually.
Well, she's going to act like it's the last option anyway.
"I didn't bring you through to catch up," she says tersely. "I think you've noticed we've picked up some new guests."
Kessler nods. "Wasn't expecting them to have to come in handy so early," he says. "We're going to need their mooks for construct defence until we get the place fortified again."
"Which leaves us in a problematic situation," she points out. "The Void Engineers seem to have stepped up their mistrust of us. They've decided to take advantage of my public complaints about the lack of support they give to assign us some watchers. Rosario, I know you liked Naryskin back in Moscow, but she's a Void Engineer now and I haven't been able to determine what her orders are yet. Sykes?"
"Yes?"
"They've been controlling my access to information about the new one, Guo. I'm going to need you to... make enquiries through less obvious channels to see what his deal is. Naryskin is obviously combat ready, but... he doesn't seem very heavily augmented and seems altogether too normal for someone they'd hand me."
'Donald' raises his eyebrows. "Yeah, I can see how someone normal being assigned to this madhouse amalgam is suspicious. A Russian ex-Adept lesbian cyborg ninja is pretty much what we expect, but they slipped up when they put a professional, sane guy with us. Gave us reason to doubt them."
"Donald..." 'Serafina' says wearily.
He gives Jamelia a lazy salute. "Yes, yes, my captain general major lady," he drawls.
Jamelia finds, to her shock, that she's feeling... betrayed. This really is a very good mimic. Most FACADE clones can't stand up to her prompting and poking. But she gets the gut feeling that he really does believe everything he says and he's showing all the little cues she'd expect of him. She hates that she can't see through this herself and has to rely on others. On one hand, it's a sign that they really are serious about this. But on the other hand, it's a sign that she's getting soft and that she might have worked through some of her issues about Starling, which isn't really what she needs right now. Yes, yes, the Senex had said that Cemal's bane was that he couldn't trust - but she's up against the dark reflection of the NWO. And also, you know, however much of the actual NWO who's working for them. Too much trust is more immediately dangerous than too little.
Well, usually. She's also taken advantage of engineered mistrust among her enemies plenty of times. Though in those cases, their great failing was failing to be properly discerning in their lack of trust. And also going up against her. But that goes without saying.
***
Harlan waits for them to close the door, and works out his neck. He looks between Langley, Naryskin and Guo, calculating PCW synchronisation factors and how much primium they've got in them. Langley's surprisingly sensitive for an Iterator, and knows he's psychic. Guo looks like he's a normal human, but he's going to have to be careful. And Naryskin, joy of joys, has a head with primium in it.
And given what they're going to be walking into, he
really can't afford to tire himself out. So he does it carefully, and very, very slowly, teasing out tendrils of psionic energy towards the others in the car. He needs to be as subtle as possible.
"
Do not look at me. Do not respond to what I am saying," he says, coldly and precisely. "
Do not react in any way, shape or form. Keep your emotions under control. Maintain your normal conversations, or if you cannot parallel process with your levels of intellect, sigh and look out the window. Our lives may well depend on it. Those of you who can hear me, please think your names."
"
Henriette." She's clear and loud. Who knew Iterators could be so sensitive when you didn't make their brains out of metal?
"
Wufan. Look, what's going on w-"
"
That is not only thinking your name, Mr Guo," Harlan thinks, rather enjoying this. "
And now we wait for the cyborg."
He waits.
"
Fine. Miss Langley, if you would please catch Miss Naryskin's attention, you should hopefully be able to open up blink communications with the laser implanted in your eye," he says after a decent pause. "
If she is going to display Iterator-levels of psychic sensitivity, you might as well treat her as if she's an Iterator. Relay her into the conversation if you would, Miss Langley."
He doesn't look.
"
I'm in contact with her," Henriette thinks. She didn't like that comment about Iterators. Iterators aren't very good at dealing with the truth, though. Too religious in their inclinations. Too obsessed with their personal journey to the 'godhood' of having a toaster implanted in your chest. Not able to see the world as it really is.
"
Excellent," Harlan thinks. "
Now, ladies and gentlemen, now that you are calm - and stay calm - I am afraid I must rather ruin your days and warn you that we are currently walking into a trap. These two 'fine' individuals are imposters - and anyone who has the assets to make imposters of this quality has the assets to take down a light construct and reconfigure it as a trap for the returning heroes."
Harlan senses a sudden pulse of panic and worry from Wufan - and it's not just directed at the idea of a trap. It's directed at him personally. Then it's gone, clamped down on with New World Order-like mental training. He would smile if he didn't have the same training. Well, better training as a veteran of Vigilance. Sometimes it's what people don't say which is very helpful, and that guilty-clamp down reinforces some of the things Jamelia spoke to him about.
"
We will now discuss how we will not, in fact, all be killed by this trap," he adds.
