"Not quite." She reached into her purse, pulled out a.3 8 Smith and Wesson, and fired two shots directly into the lieutenant's brain. As his body slumped lifelessly over that of the corporal, Randy Nooner said, "Now I'm satisfied."
The huge stadium, built to accommodate 100,000 people, was only partially filled with the current population of Fort Vadassar, but the recruits present gave Artemis a full measure of divine respect. Six thousand recruits greeted him with salutes as he stumbled onto the podium, then fell to their knees in holy worship. "Hail Artemis," they rumbled.
Artemis covered the microphone and turned to Randy and Samantha, who were standing behind him. "I'm used to playing to a full house," he said.
Randy sighed. "It'll be full tomorrow, and every day after that. "Just read the speech, okay?"
He cleared his throat and unfolded the speech Randy Nooner had written for him.
"Artemis is greatly pleased with his welcome at Fort Vadassar, by the vanguard of the new army," he began.
The recruits cheered.
Artemis squinted. The thought crossed his mind
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that he would soon require reading glasses. And he really should have looked over the speech before delivering it. God didn't trip over his messages to the flock, after all.
"I am come to bless your great endeavor," he read quickly, trying to sound spontaneous, "for . . ." He halted as he read the following words silently. A lone voice in the crowd filled the short silence by shouting, "Hail Artemis."
". . . For I will not be among you much longer?" he asked Randy Nooner, forgetting to cover the mike. A roar of outraged disbelief rose from the stadium. "What is this bullshit?"
"Go on, read," Randy whispered, shoving him back toward the podium.
"My mortal life is nearing its end?" he continued, still questioning the contents of his strange.speech.
Screams of "No!" and "O divinity" rang out above the rumble of the troops.
"Even as I stand before you, a—what?—a government plot has been put in motion to halt my words forever. . . . Aw, come on, Nooner," he said, slapping his hand on the lectern in disgust, but his words were obliterated by the rising hysteria of the worshippers, who had just been informed that they were losing their messiah.
"Hold it," Artemis yelled, waving his arms to try to quiet the crowd. "Big mistake. Keep your pants on, everybody."
But even as he spoke, a long-nailed hand holding a hyprodermic syringe moved swiftly toward Arte-mis's spine, and in a moment he lay in a heap on the podium while 6,000 soldiers wailed as though the world had ended.
81
Seven
It was 4:50 a.m. when Jay Miller stepped into the spacious entranceway to the United States Senate building in Washington, D.C. His heart was pumping overtime, as it had since the telephone call an hour before, requesting his presence at a special breakfast meeting.
His two years in Washington had taught him not to question the summons from above. If Senator Os-good Nooner felt like having breakfast at 5:00 a.m. with the Assistant to the Chief Clerk of Records, then, by golly, Jay Miller was not about to turn down the invitation. He felt a small rush of power as he flashed his identification card to the guard inside the portals, knowing that the name Jay Miller was on the guard's list of persons who were to be allowed admittance at that hour.
"Yes, sir," the guard had said as he handed Miller a special pass.
Sir. At 26, he'd never been called "sir" in his life. He wound his way around the hallowed labyrinthine corridors, showing his special pass proudly, until he reached the office of Senator Osgood Nooner. It was guarded by a six-foot Marine who examined his
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pass and escorted him to the senator's inner sanctum before returning to his post.
The senator was sitting at his desk, writing. Jay Miller stood in the doorway for several seconds, afraid to enter. Finally, he cleared his throat in announcement.
The senator looked up. "Ah, come in," Senator Nooner said, smiling broadly. Miller took a couple of halting steps forward as the senator rose and strode briskly toward him. "Glad you could make it, son. Hungry?"
Miller gulped. "No, sir. I mean, yes, sir."
"No need to be nervous, son," the senator said, patting Miller on the back. "We're all just ordinary people, living together in the crazy world for better or worse, right? Here, have a seat."
Miller attempted a smile as he sat down at the small table set for two with gleaming silver chafing dishes and a single red rose.
"Hope it's not too early for you, ah—"
"Miller, sir. Joshua Miller. My friends call me
Jay."
The senator spooned a portion of scrambled eggs onto Miller's plate. "Jay it is, then," he said. "I'd like you to consider me your friend. Call me Ozzie."
"Yes sir, Ozzie, sir," Miller said, choking on his
first bite.
The senator sat back and waited for his guest's coughing fit to subside before speaking again. "Now, Jay, you may be wondering why I invited x you here. Go on, eat."
Miller obeyed, stuffing more eggs into his still-sputtering mouth.
"The fact is,. Jay, I want to ask you for a favor."
"Me?" A crumb of scrambled egg flew from Mil-
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ler's lips, hitting the senator square iri the eye. The young man leaped up immediately, knocking over an orange juice glass and causing the table to shake precariously.
"Sit.down, damn it," the senator roared, holding the sides of the table to steady it. With his napkin, he removed the offending particle, then threw the napkin onto the table with a loud slap. "Cretinous fool," he muttered before composing his face into a mask of cordiality. "That is, everything all right, Jay?"
Miller nodded. His teeth were chattering.
"What I called you in to discuss is a matter of extreme national importance, Jay, so I'd like your word that what passes between us will go no further."
"Oh, you have my absolute word on that, Ozzie, sir."
"Good. Til get right to the point, Jay. It's the army records."