General Casey Fink led a squad of soldiers out from a garage and across a short parking lot past useless gas pumps. Balls of lethal plasma shot over and around them until they found cover in a drainage ditch alongside the road.
Casey dared a look from his position; a position that changed drastically in recent days.
Last weekend he stood-in for Hoth at an Imperial military meeting rubbing elbows with the bigwigs. Now he hid in a ditch outside some roadside town in central Ohio that seemingly consisted of a garage, a John Deere dealership, and a church.
A ball of energy exploded on the slush and snow covered road a few yards in front of Casey’s peeking eyes. He ducked, avoiding a spray of icy goo and blasted black top.
The squad returned fire toward the entrenched Plats. Rifle and carbine rounds smashed dealership windows and strafed the white wooden walls of the Presbyterian house of worship.
Casey patted the shoulder of Captain Marty Blue. The former school teacher turned around allowing the General access to his backpack of bulky communications equipment.
"Big Momma this is Gopher, do you copy? Over."
Fink heard the reply he hoped for: "This is Big Bad Momma, we deliver."
"Shit, yeah, I need a delivery, Momma. Stand by…"
Fink consulted a hand held map of the patrol area; the area he had the brilliant urge to visit for himself; the area supposedly free of Plats and therefore a great route for pushing west.
"Momma, I’m looking at grid reference fifty-two by fifty-five, over."
An enemy bolt slammed into a black soldier, opening a hole in his shoulder and causing his arm to dangle like a broken tree branch. The squad's medic tended to the grievous wound with bandages and twine from his poorly-stocked first aid kit.
Gunfire, screams, and finally a radio transmission filled Casey's ear: "Gopher, I copy your point of interest. How about we serve up some of Momma’s home cooking, over."
"Hard copy that shit, Momma. We’re starving here, over."
"Roger that, Gopher, stand by and get somewhere snug 'cause dinner is served."
Fink shouted to his troops, "Danger close!"
Moments later, waves of rockets descended through a low layer of morning clouds and slammed into grid reference 52–55, also known as the John Deere dealership and the church. A wave of heat swept over the frigid battleground as the target buildings disintegrated into shards of plaster and wood, balls of flame, and mushroom clouds of smoke.
Amidst the ear-splitting explosions and sounds of destruction Casey heard the sweet melody of Platypus aliens squealing like wounded pigs.
"Gopher, this is Momma. You guys still hungry down there? Over?"
The barrage halted. Fink assessed the results. One church wall stood, the rest smoldered in a sort of funeral pyre. He saw a burning, three-legged duck-billed Platypus alien wobble out and collapse. Its flesh roasted with a smell like burnt Thanksgiving dinner.
"Negative, Momma, we’re full. Them’s good eats. Over and out."
Casey led the squad from the ditch. With this outpost destroyed, he had cleared a path for the hastily organized attack Hoth ordered. And while he liked the idea of Army Group North moving again, he could not understand why the brass suddenly seemed in such a hurry.
– Nina Forest spent twenty-four hours under watch after having been a prisoner of, well, of herself. Certainly Oliver Maddock could find a Freud joke in there, but he and the rest of the team knew better than to make jokes. Not after how badly they screwed up.
In hindsight, she questioned every decision from accepting the mysterious invitation to splitting up at the farm. Most of all, she questioned obeying Trevor's orders to leave him behind.
At least a hundred times she went into battle willing to die for him; for what he represented to humanity. Why did she not charge those guards, even if it meant death? If Trevor died at the hands of those strangers-of a duplicate Nina-she would never forgive herself.
And that raised another issue. One that added to her guilt but also generated more questions. Exactly why had she-Captain Forest-been a successful lure for the Emperor?
The other Nina-the one who claimed to come from a 'parallel' Earth-showed the most emotion when Captain Forest of the Dark Wolves assured that she barely knew Trevor Stone and they had never engaged in any sort of relationship.
Yes, that had elicited a response, Nina remembered.
Nina with twin ponytails had refused to accept the truth, then deteriorated into panic then, later, relief when Stone actually showed.
She chewed on that thought as she walked across the encampment on yet another relentlessly cold January day in Ohio.
Nina paused as an ambulance drove by transporting wounded from the front lines to the camp's infirmary. Apparently the battle to push west raged and it bothered her that General Hoth would not allow the Wolves to participate.
Nina arrived at the mess tent, opened the door, and went inside.
One good thing about all this, Nina realized; those weird dreams have stopped.
Before she could contemplate any connection between the dreams and the ordeal, a new set of thoughts and emotions overwhelmed the Captain. In a corner sat a lonely thirteen year old girl dressed in a heavy coat and drinking a mug of hot chocolate.
Nina stopped in her tracks and eyed her daughter. Her family.
Denise then caught sight of her mother and a smile grabbed control of her face. A big, genuine smile that nearly warmed the countryside. Then the thirteen-year-old attitude managed to stifle the grin and she nonchalantly returned her attention to the mug of hot drink as if ho-hum just another day.
Nina strolled over and sat at the table, saying, "I heard you were in camp. Sorry, they wouldn't let me out of isolation until now. Standard procedure."
"Yeah, well, you know, it’s no big deal."
"Skipping school again?"
Denise did not answer.
"I’ll let you get away with it this time," mom smiled as she placed an arm on the girl’s shoulder. "Because I’m glad to see you."
"Geez, don’t get all mushy."
Denise tried to sound convincing but she could not even convince her own hands to stop shaking; the mug of hot chocolate shimmied in her grip.
Nina agreed, "Yeah, you’re right."
Neither of them could maintain the charade any longer. Denise’s lips trembled, her drink splashed in shaking hands. Nina reached in and moved the cup to the table top.
"I’m okay. I’m back."
Denise let it rip. She turned and cried and buried her head into Nina’s chest.
"Don’t you ever do that to me! Don’t you ever do that!"
"It’s okay…it’s okay, honey…I’m back."
Sobs followed; sobs and hugs. Nina squeezed her tight.
She wished she could promise her daughter that this would never happen again. She wished she could promise that she would never be a casualty in this war. She wished she could curl up in Annapolis with Denise and just be a mother, not a soldier-mom.
But she could not. She would fight again soon. As long as this war raged, Nina Forest would risk her life. She could not walk away no matter how strong her maternal instincts called.
For now, she held Denise as tight as she could. The two rocked softly back and forth on the bench seat.
"I was so afraid when I heard," Denise said with her head still buried in mom’s arms. "The first thing…the first thing I did was find a way out here. I jumped a train, and then I got a ride with a convoy. I was afraid I’d be too late."
"You’re pretty brave, to come all the way out here."
"I got here and they didn’t know what happened to you. They didn’t know."
"It's okay, sweat heart," Nina stroked Denise's hair. "You can calm down now."
Denise pulled her face out of those loving arms, wiped away a tear, and in a tone that quickly reversed from sad to excited said, "I met Trevor-I mean, I met the Emperor! He was sitting right here! I didn’t know it, I made such an ass-I mean, such an idiot — of myself. You should have-"
"Wait a sec," Nina interrupted. "You saw Trevor Stone here?"
"Yeah, that’s how I knew you were going to make it back."
"How? How did you know that?"
Denise told her, "Because he promised me you were coming back. The Emperor told me he was going to get you himself."
Nina did not know what to say but the obvious question came to mind: Why would the Emperor come all the way out here just for me?
"He promised you’d come home. He promised and he was right."
– "What’s the status of the 13 ^ th Brigade?"
Hoth’s aid-a gritty but dignified gray-haired woman-answered, "Captain Blue’s infantry have secured the intersection at Jamestown. The bulk of his force is proceeding toward Xenia on schedule."
"Signal Captain Downs to proceed with phase two. Remind him that he’s to have his Brigade across Caesar’s Creek in three hours or the schedule will be thrown off."
"I understand," the woman responded.
The aid walked off but Hoth-much to his chagrin-did not stand alone at the map-covered billiards table in the parlor. General Jerry Shepherd hovered at his side.
"Will, I’ve been looking over your rosters and I see you’ve got a couple of extra squads in reserve. I’m thinking I can grab a Blackhawk off Captain Dunston over at Second Tactical Wing and get this search going again."
"No."
Shep cocked his head. "Pardon me, General? I’m not sure I heard correctly."
Hoth came through loud and clear this time. "My orders are to quickly pacify the Ohio area. I can no longer spare troops and supplies to continue the search."
"Your orders come ultimately from Trevor Stone. He’s missing out there, somewhere."
"I’ve read the reports, General Shepherd, from both aerial reconnaissance and ground teams. I also have heard the eye witness reports of yourself and the Dark Wolves. You clearly state that the structure Trevor Stone entered disappeared without a trace."
"I reckon you’d better get to the point of this."
Hoth did. "The point is that Trevor Stone is not out there to be found. He has been killed or transported to another location. The best way to find out what happened is to insert science teams to evaluate the area. That can not happen until we secure that sector. That’s something I’m working on and because I’m now rushed into this action I need all my assets. With all due respect, this is exactly why I opposed the participation of senior staff in the search effort."
Shepherd nearly said something he might regret but managed to bite his tongue. Hoth, however, had more to say.
"General Shepherd, I believe you have been recalled to the estate to discuss this matter."
Shep had, indeed, received orders from Jon Brewer to return to the lakeside mansion to update the key players on the situation. The problem was that Shepherd was not sure of the situation, other than the obvious: they were leaderless. Fortunately, few people knew that yet.
"General Shepherd, leave this operation to my people. We’ve been preparing to push west for some time. Once we take control of the areas around Dayton we’ll be in a better position to analyze what happened. Until then, you’re just getting in my way."
Shep’s eyes widened. "Oh, now, we wouldn’t want to have that, now would we?"
Hoth did not respond. Shepherd knew Hoth did not need to respond because Shep figured that everyone in that room knew Hoth was right. Including Jerry.
Shep rubbed his tired eyes. "I suppose I’ll catch a flight back, then."
"All three of my Eagle shuttles are committed. You’ll need to take the train."
"Oh? Is that a fact?" The edge returned to the senior General’s voice.
Hoth chased that edge away. "It might be a good idea if you headed for the station right away. If memory serves, Captain Forest is taking the next train back east, too. It would be a good idea for her to be escorted by someone who knows her."
Shepherd bit his tongue yet again, nearly hard enough to draw blood, and mumbled, "Well, then, I guess that’s that. You have a really nice day now, you hear?"
Hoth heard.
– Jon Brewer and Ashley stood in the second floor office at the mansion. Gordon Knox sat in a chair along the wall.
"What do you mean, ‘missing’?"
"According to what Jerry Shepherd saw, the building Trevor entered vanished. Simply disappeared with everyone inside. We searched the area but found no trace. Once the area is secured by Army Group North we'll send Omar and science teams to the site to evaluate what actually happened."
"I don’t understand. He said he was going to Ohio to surprise the troops to boost morale. He didn’t tell me anything about leading a mission."
Jon paused, his eyes wandered, and he rocked back on his heals as he summoned the explanation he recently concocted. "Well, you know Trevor, um, he just got, well, out there and decided to do this, I guess."
Ashley’s eyes narrowed and locked on him, her mouth opened a little. Jon heard her thought as clearly as if she spoke the words, I can’t believe it. You just lied to me.
Jon looked at the floor.
"I see," she spoke in something akin to a growl. "And exactly what was this spur of the moment adventure he went off on?"
"One of our Special Forces units went missing. He decided to lead a rescue mission."
"A special forces unit?"
"It was the Dark Wolves. They’ve been our best over the years."
Ashley asked, "What was this building? What was in there? Who was in there?"
Brewer tried to slow things down. "Shep is on his way here to fill in the details. Like I said, he was on the ground with Trevor when it happened. Maybe he can shine light on all of this. But, hey, Ashley, according to the reports Trevor was alive when the place disappeared."
Gordon Knox sat in his chair observing the conversation without saying a word. Ashley decided to drag him in. "Gordon. What do you know about this building? What do you know about the aliens that took Trevor?"
Jon could only guess at how much Gordon knew about Trevor and Nina's relationship. On one hand, he had not joined the movement until long after that episode. At the same time, his business was information and he had grown close to Trevor in recent years.
Knox replied, "Well, they weren’t aliens. Isn’t that right, Jon?"
"People?" Ashley turned fast on Brewer. "Why didn’t you tell me that? Who were they?"
"Calm down," Jon raised a reassuring hand but he quickly realized that Ashley now looked to Gordon for answers.
"Anita has nothing on record that matches the type of structure Shepherd says he saw. Captain. Forest went to the area originally after receiving a radio transmission requesting help."
"Forest?"
Gordon said, "Captain Nina Forest. She’s the commanding officer of the Dark Wolves."
"I know that name."
"Yes you do," Jon tried desperately to gain control over the conversation. "Nina was one of the original band of survivors. She and Shep came to the estate those first few months."
Gordon continued, "The reports are a little sketchy and, well, convoluted. We know that Captain Forest and her unit disappeared while on mission. Trevor, General Shepherd, and Reverend Johnny took in a follow up team to find them."
"Wait a second," she interrupted. "Johnny, too?"
Jon felt things spiraling further out of control.
Ashley turned to him. "Reverend Johnny is missing, too? Trevor took Johnny all the way out to Ohio, met up with Shepherd who came all the way from-what? — Kentucky-"
"Tennessee," Jon Brewer corrected.
"Okay, Tennessee, and they went off searching for a couple of missing soldiers?"
"Nina, listen-" Jon stopped. Had he really just said that? "Sorry. I mean, Ashley, listen. Shepherd will be back soon. Until then we really don’t know exactly what happened."
Ashley stared at him.
Jon reached for his jacket hanging on the back of a chair and repeated, "When Shep gets here we’ll all sit down and sort this out. In the meantime, General Hoth is pushing west to secure the area. We’ll be sending in all sorts of specialists to find out what happened. We’ll find him, Ashley. We’ll find Trevor."
She added, "And Reverend Johnny, too."
"And Johnny, yes."
"And Nina Forest and her soldiers."
Jon shook his head, "No, they’re on their way…"
Brewer stopped again, caught like a deer in headlights. He closed his eyes and then finished because he could not do otherwise. "They let everyone go except Trevor and Reverend Johnny. Captain Forest and her unit have returned to duty."
"I see."
He heard the tone in her voice.
Something is going on here; something you’re not telling me.
Brewer slipped his jacket on fast and escaped from the room.
– Evan knew he did not look good wearing safety goggles. Not Dukakis-in-the-tank bad, but certainly on the geeky side. However, on this day he traded image for substance. Sort of.
He followed Omar Nehru through the large, long building and up a set of short but steep metal stairs to a platform. A gaggle of media-wearing geeky goggles as well-waited on the plant floor below like a crowd gathering for a rock concert.
As bulbs flashed, Evan sensed an opportunity. He turned and lent a helping hand up the steep stairs to the third member of his party, Jim Hutch, a burly man with side burns who sweat profusely.
"There you go, Jim."
"Thank you, Senator Godfrey."
"Now that won’t due, Jim. That won’t do at all. Call me Evan."
"You should be coming over this way, so as to get the best view," Omar directed in a loud voice. He had to speak loud because the machines that filled the massive industrial center drown out most conversation.
Omar's tour took the men to a big long cylinder set horizontally on thick support struts. Gauges, controls, hoses, wires, and all manner of mechanisms dotted the surface of the thing. At one end a funnel-like orifice; at the other an arched opening feeding onto a conveyor belt.
From front to back the machine stretched nearly fifty yards with the diameter of a railroad tanker car.
Evan addressed the crowd more so than Omar as he said, "This matter-maker is much larger than the one we discovered back during the first year. I remember when you and I got our first good look at one of these."
"Um, yes, of course," Omar would not challenge Evan's historical revisionism.
Hutch turned his nose up and grunted, "Damn ugly thing. Looks grimy and what's that smell? Geez, smells like something rotting."
"It is an industrial-capacity matter transfiguration machine," Omar came across as defensive. "Given the variety of substances pushed through its workings it does develop an unpleasant odor, which is a side effect that cannot be helped."
Evan sensed Omar's temperature rising, although the edge in his voice might be as much due to a lack of a cigarette as anything else. Whatever the case, Evan interceded, "So, tell me Omar, how much do we understand about the workings of this contraption?"
"What we have learned has come from what you might say 'trial and error.' We have developed a comprehensive list of what materials can be created. We also have several theories as to exactly how this process is completed, but so far have been unable to duplicate the process with human technology."
Evan summarized, "So you know what it does but not why."
Hutch wiped perspiration from this forehead with his arm and suggested, "Why not just rip the thing apart and study its insides."
Omar's eyes bulged and his lips trembled as he nearly shouted, "Because we only have so many of these machines and the entire industrial output of our nation is dependent upon them. We could not risk losing output capacity."
Senator Godfrey rested an arm on Nehru's shoulder. "So, um, what's next on the tour?"
Omar heaved a deep breath and led the men across the scaffold toward the input end.
"As you will see here, at this point here in goes raw materials for metamorphosis."
On cue, a crane tipped a large bucket and a dark-colored substance oozed into the receptacle. A terrible new smell drifted across the gathered VIPs and their media entourage.
"What is that shit?" Jim Hutch found this new smell worse than the first.
"I must be apologizing for the nastiness of this odor. Our technicians have now been pouring garbage sludge into the maker."
"I see," Evan waved a hand over his nose half-heartily.
A few of the gathered reporters laughed.
"Now what happens?"
Omar walked alongside the machine as if following the sludge on its unseen journey. He answered the Senator as they walked. "All of the conversions have been set in advance. It is much consuming of time to complete the equations. As the input materials move through the cylinder, the machine breaks the sludge into its basic building blocks on a level molecular."
The cylinder vibrated, creating a sound similar to an overtaxed washing machine.
"And at this time the sludge is becoming a mass of atoms. Those atoms will then be slowly changed into the new configuration we have selected for them."
"This is fascinating, Omar. Fascinating," Evan made sure any audio recorders caught a tone of familiarity in his voice as he spoke to the Empire's leading scientific mind. Certainly anyone listening could tell these two were old buddies going back to the early days.
"You cannot be seeing from this position, but on the side away from us there be a waste byproduct basin. It is there that excess materials are collected. From those materials we create the so-called ‘pinballs’ that our army people will use in combating Shadows."
"Shadows?" Jim Hutch spoke between heavy huffs. "Those are nasty bastards."
Omar pointed to a segment in the cylinder thicker than the rest of the machine.
"As transformation occurs it is making much in radiation."
Evan suppressed a natural instinct to step away from the machine at the mention of 'radiation.' Meanwhile, Omar continued with the tour.
"And here you can be seeing the end result."
Technicians pulled bins from a compartment. Those bins carried a pale yellow liquid from the machine that emitted a fruity bouquet.
Evan acted like a kid on Christmas morning, "Absolutely wonderful! And exactly what is it you have produced today?"
Omar answered, "This substance is being Undecylenic Acid."
Evan seized the moment and suggested to Omar and the press, "No doubt a powerful weapon for use against hostiles such as Proto-Masses and Crawling Tube Worms!"
Omar corrected, "Actually, undecylenic acid is an ingredient in anti-fungal applications."
Evan’s smile faded a hair.
Hutch's eyes widened and he said, "Oh, yeah, like for athletes foot and jock itch."
"Well, I, um, see," Evan stumbled, but not very far.
With the demonstration complete, the half-dozen reporters shot questions from below the raised platform.
"Senator Godfrey, I see you’re touring this facility with Mr. Hutch. Does that mean you’re endorsing the idea of a laborer’s guild?"
Evan felt Hutch’s eyes and ears await his response.
"We are in a new world but there are some ideas from the old that are still applicable. I support Jim and his efforts to organize industrial workers, cargo handlers, and transportation drivers. I think the result will be a better work force and an improved quality of life."
Flash bulbs popped as Evan turned and shook Jim’s grateful hand.
Another question followed, "Senator, your colleagues appear ready to elect you President of the Senate later this week. How do you react to the news and do you worry that your position on the Emperor's advisory panel would then create a conflict of interest?"
Evan nodded as he heard the question, rubbed his chin as if contemplating deep thoughts, then responded, "First, let me say that I am honored my colleagues are considering me for President. Second, I believe my constituents know that my interests are never conflicted."
It is possible that those were the truest words Evan Godfrey ever spoke…
…Evan relaxed in his hotel room at the Atlanta Hilton and Towers, the only hotel in town operating in a manner even vaguely resembling the pre-Armageddon world. No maids, of course, and no sheets or swimming pool or bar. But he did have a penthouse view of Atlanta
The afternoon sun glittered through the windows while Godfrey hovered over a laptop computer putting the finishing touches on a speech he was to give at the train station that evening. It was all a part of his strategy to document every step in his journey from Washington, to New Winnabow, to Atlanta, and then back to Washington.
He billed it as a pilgrimage into the hearts and lives of the citizens of The Empire; a chance to show his credentials as a man of the people.
It kicked off with laying a wreath at the memorial in New Winnabow, then a show of gratitude to the garrison at Columbia, South Carolina. He spent three hours fishing off the coast of Savannah because fishermen deserved recognition for their work. On a farm he sheered sheep because people were cold up north that winter.
Then came Atlanta and Jim Hutch.
Godfrey saw Hutch as a disgusting, brute of a man. But that man was on the cutting edge of a new labor movement and, most likely, the cutting edge of the rebirth of organized crime.
The matter-maker had been a nice backdrop, the presence of Omar Nehru a means of impressing Hutch with Evan’s own connections; a reminder that he could build bridges.
Next he would go to the train station to recognize the challenges the railway workers faced; they had the third most dangerous civilian job in The Empire, you know.
"Ah, that’s it," a great line came to mind and he typed frantically on the keyboard but an interruption came in the form of a ringing phone.
He grumbled and answered, "This is Evan Godfrey."
"Is it really? Not the Evan Godfrey who has been all over the news. Did you know that on NBN you got more coverage than the Ohio front? Of course you know that."
The phone connection carried over a combination of hard lines and old cell towers but despite the static and distance, Evan recognized the voice.
"Hello, officer Roos. How are you this afternoon?"
Ray Roos, one of Dante Jones’ lieutenants in Internal Security and the top I.S. officer at the Imperial mansion. He had risen in the ranks without Trevor or Dante or anyone else realizing that Roos served as a conduit for information to Evan Godfrey. Information that had helped Evan make the right moves, the right decisions, and say the right words in advancing his interests.
If Ray took the time and hassle of making the necessary connections to reach Evan Godfrey in Atlanta it must be important. Evan listened close because Ray's words usually only framed the message.
"I am doing very well, thank you for asking, Senator. You’ll have to excuse the interruption. I figure you’ve got a lot to be doing down there."
Godfrey responded, "As a Senator it’s important that I stay visible. The people have to know that we’re getting things done."
Evan carried the phone over to the window. It was a nice day outside, even if overcast. The cityscape of Atlanta presented a mixture of human buildings and the remains of Hivvan structures. Even after more than a year, workers still demolished the walls, slave pens, and gun emplacements left behind by those invading lizards. Like all worthy projects, sanitizing Atlanta took time. Evan could appreciate that: time and patience to tear down the old and build the new.
Ray continued, "It’s all over the news that you’re going to be elected President of the Senate. Wow, that is something else, Mr. Godfrey. A pretty big achievement for you."
"Well, let’s not count our chickens, Ray."
"Oh, now, you know me, Mr. Godfrey. I usually don’t go counting those chickens until they’re hatched. That way you don’t end up with egg on your face, don’t you think?"
"Very true. Very true indeed."
"But Senator, it just really seems like this whole President-elect thing is going to happen. I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to say it’s in the bag. Still, I’m willing to wait for the election before I start sending my congratulations."
"I can appreciate that."
"Yes, Sir, being President of the Senate, that would be a heck of an accomplishment. So big, you would expect that as soon as they voted you in you should expect a phone call-sorta like this one-a phone call of congratulations from the Emperor himself, wouldn’t you think?"
Evan played the game, regardless of how it grated on him. For some reason, Ray Roos seemed to be the one man he had met who could see clearly through his political double speak. The one man capable of out-maneuvering him. Thankfully, Ray stood in his corner.
"Yes. I suppose I should expect a call of congratulations from the Emperor, should I be elected President of the Senate."
"Yep. I’d think so. Why, I can’t think of a good reason why the Emperor wouldn’t jump on that phone right away and give you a call to offer up a nice attaboy. Could you think of a good reason, Mr. Godfrey? I mean, is there any reason at all as to why the Emperor might not go calling you-or might not be able to call you-on your big day?"
Evan stood in his hotel room and gazed out the window.
"No, Ray, I can’t think of a good reason at all."