The midday June sun beat down hard on Washington D.C., but a breeze-not cool, but not quite so hot, either-blew across the roof of the White House. Dante closed his eyes and let the gust sweep over his body, enjoying a split-second's relief.
He had followed a security team to the roof as they patrolled the grounds in preparation for Evan Godfrey's big press conference. While the team moved on, Dante remained behind. At first he told himself this was simply an impulse left over from his previous post but the longer he lingered on the roof the more he realized he was really trying to hide.
From his vantage point, Dante saw a podium and chairs on a small patch of south side lawn. A few early-bird members of the press and their cameramen waited there, scribbling notes and checking equipment. Like so many of the sights these days, the one below seemed somewhat surreal; pieces of the old world re-assembling. A press corps, trade unions, vacation resorts, and even rush hour traffic at a few of the major settlements. Not nearly the size or scope as before the invasion, but eerily close.
Jones turned his eyes toward the city surrounding the White House. He spied the ragtag kiosks and carts of the markets on the Ellipse, the scarred Washington monument sticking up into a clear blue sky, and the pillars and posts marking the remains of the Jefferson memorial.
Further off loomed the corpses of buildings that died in the fires of Armageddon but alongside those skeletons worked cranes lifting beams into place and scaffolding wrapped around new construction. That process of rebirth gave Jones hope, as did the subject of the day's press conference. Hope that maybe everything he had done had indeed been for the best; that his betrayal grew from honorable intentions. A voice broadcast over the walkie-talkie attached to his belt next to his side arm. "Hey, Dante, are you out there?" The voice belonged to Ray Roos, the new Director of Internal Security. "Yeah, man, I'm here. I'm up on the roof. I came up here with one of the teams." Roos chuckled, "Say, you trying to do my job?" Dante-his eyes still staring into the distance-answered, "Old habits die fast, I guess." "Well, now, the boss is expecting you down here for the big show."
He heard the chatter among the reporters below grow but told Ray, "I think I'll stay out of the spotlight. The view is a little better up here."
– The Duncan Phyfe-crafted cabinets and furnishings from the late Federal period that once adorned the White House library had been pillaged or destroyed during the Hivvan occupation. Therefore, it remained one of the more incomplete rooms in the refurbished White House. Nonetheless, a portrait of George Washington remained above the neoclassical mantel and the soft gray and rose tones of the paneling gave the chamber a cozy feel.
Tory-Sharon Godfrey's eleven year old boy-stretched on the floor in one corner of the room with sneakers kicked out behind as he built a plastic model car on top of newspapers laid to protect the wood. The smell of Testor's glue permeated the air.
His mother used glue of her own as she sat at a round wooden table. Spread in front of her were clippings taken from the newspapers that now served as Tory's drop cloth. She carefully positioned one clip after another in a thick scrapbook, taking care to ensure perfect placement.
Mother and son worked in a silence punctuated by the ticking hands and grinding gears of a lighthouse clock bearing the likeness of Marquis de Lafayette on its base.
"Ah, there you are," Evan entered the room. "I've been looking all over for you."
Sharon remained focused on affixing yet another memento to her scrapbook. Evan glanced over her shoulder and saw the headline EMPEROR DEAD on one page and ASSASSINATION on the other.
Sharon pressed until satisfied the glue held. To her annoyance, Evan reached in and flipped backwards through the scrapbook. The headlines flashed one after another as he traveled into the past.
CALIFORNIA INVASION OPPOSED BY RELIGIOUS COUNCIL. TREVOR STONE DEAD? EMPEROR NOT SEEN IN TWO MONTHS. WHERE IS TREVOR STONE? EVAN GODFREY CHOSEN PRESIDENT OF THE IMPERIAL SENATE. STONE GIVES IN: SENATE TO BE ELECTED. SLAUGHTER AT NEW WINNABOW.
Evan stopped paging and sighed. "What's wrong, my dear? You don't approve of my collection?"
"When you said you and Tory would be in the library, I thought you would be spending time with him before he heads off to summer camp. But you're too busy collecting scalps."
Tory did not have to be asked to leave, he instinctively knew, abandoning the unfinished model as he searched for a new place to play. It was a big house, after all. Plenty of places for a child to get lost. "My son is my business." "But you are my business, Sharon. Tell me, what will you do now?" "I don't understand," she replied while thumbing through the memories as if perusing her high school yearbook.
"Who will you hate now, my love? All these years you've fixated on the fall of our beloved Emperor in revenge for what he did to your home and your father. He's been vanquished, but one look at you and I can see that the hate has not diminished."
"Soon there will be much to keep me busy. After your press conference today, I'll be in charge of getting rid of those damned dogs. I look forward to being at your side for that."
Evan grabbed her arm and hoisted her from the chair.
"Yes, you will be at my side. Remember that, Sharon. I don't need you and your vendettas screwing anything up. I want you to smile. I want you to be happy. You've gotten everything you've always wanted, you saw the end of Trevor Stone. Now get over it. Move on."
"Easy for you to say, Evan. What have you lost? There is still a debt owed for what he did at New Winnabow. Tell me, who was the assassin who put the bullet in my father's neck?"
A straw broke in Evan's back.
"Enough! I won't have this, Sharon. Instead of spending your time scheming, maybe you should spend more time with your son. Or is he just an inconvenience now?"
Sharon's hand cocked. A voice interrupted the blow.
"Mr. President," a forty-something woman with strawberry blond hair and a scar on her face interrupted the brewing fight. "Yes? Yes, what is it?" "Chancellor D'Trayne has arrived. The press conference is ready to begin." With that, the woman withdrew. Evan painted on a smile. Sharon calmed and forced a smile of her own. "I need you by my side now, Sharon." "Whatever you say, Mr. President." — Armageddon caused much damage to the White House grounds. In the years since humanity's armies chased the lizards from D.C., the Senate, Evan Godfrey, and other like-minded politicians and historians invested in fixing, repairing, and otherwise returning the White House to pre-Armageddon form. They, by and large, succeeded. However, the scars of destruction still lingered and Evan chose one such scar as backdrop for his big speeches.
While the lawn grew as green as ever, the trees and shrubs between the south face of the White House and the West wing had been burned to nothing and removed. Instead of full-grown replacements transplanted from a nursery, Evan Godfrey insisted on planting new trees and shrubs as a symbol of America's rebirth. For the next several years, he would stand there and deliver initiatives and speeches and progress reports to the eager media with those baby plants growing behind him in the same way he planned to grow the nation anew.
In that cozy corner of the new seat of power gathered two dozen members of the press on folding metal chairs facing a podium bearing the seal of the President of the United States. Around that podium lurked Brad Gannon in slick hair and a pearly-white smile as well as Chancellor D'Trayne in all his silver glory. No one noticed Dante, mixed with a security team, watching from the roof.
Ray Roos escorted Evan and his wife to the edge of the yard then waited behind. The President approached the podium; Sharon lingered off to the side. The press stood in a sign of respect but he quickly motioned for the reporters to be seated.
"My fellow countrymen, today marks the end of the greatest struggle in the history of mankind. The war is over."
Evan let that sink in, not only for the men and women in the audience, but those who watched on T.V. While only the local population witnessed the announcement live, the tape of the conference would soon play from sea to shining sea.
"Ten years ago alien armies marched through interplanetary gateways to wage war upon our people. Why did they come? Did we provoke this aggression? I have spent years searching for that answer. With the help of Chancellor D'Trayne, I have finally found the truth. This has been a coordinated invasion with the aim of defusing the danger humanity represents to life throughout the universe. That danger comes not from our weapons or technology, but from the nature of our persons. In short, you will find the answer as to 'why' not by looking toward the stars, but in reading a history book: crusades, holocausts, inquisitions and Dark Ages. Whether due to religious zeal, unbridled nationalism, racism or merely our natural inclination toward violence, mankind has a history of brutality and militarism, and the universe took note."
Evan took a moment to make eye contact with the reporters and, most important, the camera lens.
"The intelligent life forms of the galaxy came together for a pre-emptive strike on mankind before our technology could turn us into a threat to other civilizations. This was not a decision made lightly and one that went against the otherwise peaceful nature of these cultures. Before we pass judgment, consider that pre-emptive war has been a distasteful but common action among our own race. While we cannot excuse this act of hostility that has brought misery to our world, we must come to terms with the reality of our nature."
Evan cast his eyes down, shook his head in sadness, and sighed: the perfect picture of a man who has accepted the faults of his people.
"Still, I am not one to give up easily; not when the fate of my people is at stake. In recent days I have worked closely with Chancellor D'Trayne who has been in contact with the other races. Based on his experience in California, he managed to convince the invaders that there is another way besides war without end. He has convinced his brethren that the people of this nation can overcome their instinct for violence, that we can be good neighbors, that there can be an end to the struggle that has already cost so much to all sides.
"As I have explained to the Chancellor, I cannot speak for all of humanity. I can only speak for those of us in our tiny nation. I have assured him that our people seek peace. I have assured him that we only want to live our lives and return to the world we knew before the invaders came. He has accepted these assurances, with conditions to ensure the cease-fire holds." Murmurs rolled through the audience. "Conditions?" "Cease-fire?" "Assurances?" Evan calmed the gathered with a wave of his hand.
"Our aggressive military campaign will end. We will live within the boundaries of the continental United States, and as long as we do so there will be no more attacks, no more war. In a manner similar to United Nations peacekeeping missions in the old world, Witiko observers will be positioned throughout our nation and government so as to monitor our good intent. We will demobilize three of our eight active army divisions and several of our combat air wings. The dreadnoughts will be restricted to flights within our borders and K9 breeding programs will be curtailed. With our defensive line on the east coast and the eventual construction of a similar line off California, we will know security and will not need such a large military force. Instead, demobilized troops will either transfer to Internal Security or…" Evan licked his lips, smiled, and in a fatherly voice told, "…or they can go home. They can go home to be with their families, to raise their children, to build farms or businesses. In short, they can go home and live again; live without war. In short, life will return to normal."
Again, worried looks throughout the press corp.
"My friends," Evan assured, "the truth is that we have won the war. Our soldiers and the workers at home have removed the organized alien armies from our lands. We can be proud of their sacrifice. Our choice now is either to risk losing all we've gained by continuing this fight to foreign lands or celebrating our victory and sheathing our swords. We will maintain a strong home defense to secure our borders and monitor the activities of the newcomers to our planet. Many details remain to be reconciled and much work must be done to transition from a war footing to a normal way of life. Nonetheless, this is a day for rejoicing. We have known a time of war; now this is our time of peace."
– Another flash bulb, another pose, this time Evan shaking D'Trayne's hand in the Oval office.
"Okay, that will be enough for today, thank you ladies and gentlemen," the middle aged woman with the scar-Evan's Administrative Assistant-hustled the press away leaving the room to the President, D'Trayne, and Ray Roos.
Evan slumped into the chair behind the big desk and D'Trayne paced. Roos watched from a position near the closed door.
"Your media asks a lot of questions," D'Trayne said.
"Yes, all good questions, Chancellor. Guarantees. What kind of verification do we get that you're keeping your end of the bargain? People are understandably wary."
"You have received my word. I will work on getting something in-what did you call it? — 'writing.' But you already appear hesitant in fulfilling your end of the bargain. We originally discussed a fifty-percent demobilization of the armed forces."
Evan stood and jabbed a finger toward the silver alien. "Three divisions for now, Chancellor. No more until I feel comfortable that I have those assurances. I only jumped into this cease-fire announcement so quick because I want the military under control."
"And have you succeeded? Are your internal enemies no longer a concern?"
Roos interrupted the conversation, "Well, there, hold on for a sec, this is where I've got a little cold water to throw on this parade." Ray tapped his thumb on his thigh as he told them, "My folks have gone through the ashes for almost a week now and, well-" D'Trayne answered for Roos, "You have not yet found the body of this Knox person?" Evan's face turned to rock. Roos explained, "We pulled out our people and the Chancellor's officers, but-to put a fine point on it-no Knox." "Maybe," D'Trayne hoped, "he was vaporized in the explosion." "No," Evan grunted. "Ray is telling us that Gordon Knox got away." "Yeah, well, I figure that's about right."
D'Trayne snarled at the President, "This vendetta of yours may upset our arrangement. If he is alive, why has he not come forward?"
"That ain't his style," Roos explained. "He'll lay low and try to figure this out."
"I will not have our newfound peace disrupted by a barbarian like Knox," Evan insisted and stared at Ray to make the point that the job must be finished, yet the expression on the Director's face gave Evan pause. "What? What more is there?"
"Well, now, might be nothing but I got a little nugget from Tucker in New Jersey."
"Tucker?"
Evan answered D'Trayne, "The man in charge of security for the Stone family."
"He thinks Ashley got a visit from someone, sort of covert-like the other day."
Evan guessed, "Knox?"
"No. No, that's not it," Roos' face twisted as he tried to piece together the puzzle. "Tucker thinks he heard a name. He thinks he heard the name 'Forest.' Sounds to me like that army-gal that did a lot of Stone's dirty work."
"Captain Nina Forest," Evan said aloud. He recalled Nina and Trevor being close. He knew of their relationship. He knew it had ended but not given it much thought even though he had helped save her life during the Battle of Five Armies.
"That's what I'm thinking," Roos agreed. "And here's the funny part. I did a little snooping and it seems Captain Forest just got sent down to Florida by General Jerry Shepherd."
Evan snapped his fingers and said, "Ashley is suspicious. She has Nina looking into this. Maybe trying to hook up with Knox."
"Of course she's suspicious," Roos said. "If her hubby's offing wasn't enough, then old Gordo dying in a house fire would be more then plenty to start her radar beeping."
D'Trayne tried to keep pace with the conversation, "You said no one would miss Knox."
Evan mumbled, "No one in the public. Knox kept a low profile and did not have many friends outside of his own agency."
Roos told D'Trayne, "Ashley knew Knox rubbed the President here the wrong way. Got to figure she'd be asking questions. Another good reason to send her and the rug rat packing."
Evan guessed, "She went to Miami, didn't she?"
"Now how'd you know that?" Roos asked.
"Gordon Knox was always pestering Shepherd and Brewer to get him autographed footballs and jerseys from Woody Ross. Ross played football at the University of Miami before turning pro. I remember Knox saying something in a meeting one time about Miami being his true home. I'll bet he's moved down there. I'll bet she's going to meet him."
"What is football?" D'Trayne asked.
Roos told his boss, "Maybe he's retired or something like that. Ain't that nice?"
"No, no retirement," Evan strolled away from the desk in a daze. "You need to get down there, Ray, and take care of this."
D'Trayne inquired, "Is it possible that this Mr. Knox will be scared into staying underground? Perhaps he is not such a threat."
"Oh yeah, he's a threat," Roos figured.
Evan's lips trembled as he told his subordinate, "Get going. Get down there. Chancellor, you coordinate with Ray here. I think we may need your assistance once again."
"This is not going as smoothly as you had assured."
Evan's face twitched-a little-and he countered, "Everything is on track. I told you we would have issues to address. The only real problem we could ever have is if your friends don't finish off the job. I don't like the games they play. It seems…it seems petty."
Roos lamented, "Should have just finished it at the house. What is it they're doing with him again?"
"That was not the deal," D'Trayne told Evan. "I did not set the parameters of this undertaking, but we all agreed that the final outcome will be the same, regardless."
"Enough!" Evan shouted before continuing in a calmer voice. "We will not discuss this again. The only thing more I want to hear about Stone is the final word from Gannon when the time comes. For now, we have work to do. But know this, Chancellor, I'm watching very close. I told you once, my first priority is the safety and security of this nation. I will let loose the dogs of war without hesitation if I sense any threats on your end and I would not have agreed to de-mobilize a portion of our forces if I did not feel we were in a secure position. In other words, Chancellor, we still have teeth. Sharp teeth."
The Chancellor's eyes flickered yellow as he reminded, "Our word is plain to see. No armies gather on your southern border or to your north. Your country is secure. The only problems you face appear to come from your own kind."
That channeled Evan's attention toward Roos again. "We'll take care of that. Ray, what are you still doing here? Get to Miami."
Roos offered a sarcastic salute and opened the door. Two Internal Security men-the Chancellor's escort-waited there.
"It was good speaking with you, Chancellor," Evan's voice carried into the adjacent room where assistants and guards could hear. "Today was a historic day for mankind." "And for the Witiko as well, Mr. President." D'Trayne bowed respectfully and walked to his escort. "Senator Trimble to see you," Evan's assistant announced through the open door. "Give me a moment, will you? Yes, just close the door. I need two minutes to myself." She did just that, giving the new President sole occupancy of the Oval Office.
Evan stood for a moment of relaxation, taking in not only his surroundings but the distance traveled to get there. Ironic, he thought, how in the old world he prepared for a life of politics by making contacts, networking, honing his speaking skills, and developing a sense for both manipulation and strategy. He had known-back then-that to become a leader in the United States would take patience, vision, and persistence.
Then Armageddon came. Trevor Stone had seized power and lectured Evan- lectured me! — on how the world had changed so much; on how all Evan's connections and studies and planning had been for naught.
But oh how Trevor had been wrong. The new world, it seemed, played even better to Evan's strengths while at the same time freeing his hand for more aggressive action. The chaos and lack of communication throughout the nation gave Evan an advantage he never would have had in a world with 24-hour news networks, video phones, and the internet.
Evan chuckled. He had orchestrated the downfall of an absolute monarch without raising an eyebrow. Of course it was all for the best; he did it for the sake of the people. Nonetheless, Nixon failed to cover up a mere burglary and Clinton could not even keep a blow job secret.
But in this new world of monsters and alien armies, the people concentrated on survival to the exclusion of almost everything else and communications remained limited to the extent that few people asked questions, even after the convenient death of Gordon Knox.
No. That's not quite right. Knox isn't dead.
Evan's good mood spoiled, replaced by a new feeling. Suddenly he did not want to be alone in the office. Suddenly he felt the phantom of Gordon's gun barrel pressed against the back of his head. He heard Knox's warning after that confrontation three years ago: "Good. Remember. Especially when you go to sleep at night…all safe in your bed. Just like that Hivvan governor in Richmond…"
Evan's hand drifted to his skull and rubbed the spot where the cold steel had touched him. He quickly removed that hand and scowled. "No!" He froze, worried he spoke too loud, but no one rushed in from outside. Evan repeated, "No."
He strolled to one of the windows and stared at the grass and grounds beyond. He grew acutely aware of the shadows out there, the sharp corners around the West Wing just beyond his view, the dark spots between shrubs and trees, security officers too far away to see clearly (is that one bald? Is that a bushy mustache on that one? Who is that man? I don't recognize him…).
Evan forced his mind to cease babbling.
I will not live in fear.
He wondered…were the cross hairs of a sniper rifle focusing on him at that very moment? Did a bomb tick away its last few seconds just outside the window? Did an intruder creep across the floor behind him with a knife drawn?
I will NOT BE AFRAID.
Evan closed his eyes and felt the thump of his heart, the controlled gentle breathing in his chest, the light tremble in his arms. While standing at the window, he slowly raised both hands like Jesus on the cross. Evan whispered, "Here I am. Get it over with." He waited like that, eyes closed and arms stretched, for several seconds. No bullet came. No bombs exploded. No assassin pounced. Evan opened his eyes and lowered his arms.
I refuse to live in fear.