Beyond Armageddon V: Fusion

by DeCosmo, Anthony

  Trevor turned to Jon Brewer. Twice Jon had held the reins of power and twice he had dropped the ball. Yet on the battlefield he knew Jon to be a valiant soldier and a brilliant strategist. He trusted Jon to fight to the death on the Mississippi.

  Trevor took a moment to put his hand on Jon’s shoulder and look at his friend. Jon returned the stare and saw confidence in Trevor’s expression. Trust. The time had come for The Emperor to show faith in his general again.

  Trevor then found Gordon’s eyes at the far end of the table. As he expected, those eyes glared back big and strong. Of course, Gordon’s strength would falter when he moved away from the table on wheels instead of legs, but something or someone had given Gordon the courage to return to the conference table. Trevor hoped that courage would last.

  Eva Rheimmer and Brett Stanton sat side by side. Of all the people at the table Trevor thought those two to be the least appreciated. Eva pre-dated all the others; Trevor had made contact with her and her husband before the end of that first summer. He had convinced them to share food from their farm in exchange for K9 protection. That deal planted the initial seed of success.

  As for Brett, the years had proven him to be a logistical and manufacturing genius. The dreadnoughts would never have grown from blue prints to flying battleships without his work. Indeed, their armies would have run dry of materials long before ousting the Hivvans if not for Stanton.

  Trevor turned his gaze to Omar who sat quiet with a sagging, half-ash cigarette dangling from his lips. From the first matter-maker recovered in the hills of northeastern Pennsylvania to the anti-gravity catapults on the dreadnought flight decks, Omar turned alien technology into human weapons. His contributions were now only matched by his sacrifice, for Anita Nehru would never be the same.

  At last he found the blue eyes of Nina Forest. Once, a long time ago, he thought those eyes cold. Were they still icy? He could not say. She did not remember what they shared but he remembered; remembered all too well. The pain of losing her made him more the monster. How many times over the years could he have used her compassion? After the slaughter at New Winnabow, the revelations of another Earth, the discovery of the Presidential redoubt in the heart of Cheyenne Mountain—times of regret, of shock, of horror—but he had had nowhere to turn.

  He moved his eyes away. A feeling of guilt or maybe bashfulness overcame him. As if he felt a crush on a school girl who could never know.

  Trevor pushed those thoughts from his mind in favor of something he had meant to say a long time ago.

  “We’ve been together for a long time, haven’t we? We’ve come a long way, too. Everyone at this table has reason to be proud of what we’ve accomplished this far. We’re all that’s left. Along the way—along the way we lost some good friends,” Trevor considered and said with a chuckle in his voice, “and some not-so-good ones, too.”

  Flashes of uncomfortable smiles.

  “I have been honored by your trust in me. The truth is that you people have often been my strength. I hate that we will be apart for the end of this, but you all have jobs to do and I know you will do them with excellence. I have faith in you. As for me, I was told from the beginning that I have a path to walk. I suppose that my end was meant to come the same way it began; alone.”

  8. Fond Farewells

  The Eagle airship waited on the launch pad. Trevor exited the mansion and stepped across the grounds flanked by a Rottweiler escort. Rick Hauser loitered alongside the ship’s entry ramp. High overhead the sun began its descent behind the estate. In another hour it would disappear on the far side of the western mountain wall of the lake.

  A lot of thoughts played in Trevor’s mind. He had laid it all out for his friends and yet he knew so little about the big picture. Perhaps that had been the trap since day one. As long as Trevor Stone played his part in the game then the greater powers had nothing to fear.

  To hell with that.

  “Sir! Do you have a comment on the course of the war?”

  The shout came from one of three reporters who pushed themselves just inside the main gate. A pair of human guards held M16s to keep them back while several K9s—Dobermans and Trevor’s escort—formed a second wall of protection and flashed their canine teeth.

  Up until six months ago the front gates of the estate were continually mobbed by a dozen or more reporters and cameramen. How times had changed.

  One good side effect of Voggoth’s invasion.

  Most of the reporters either served at the front as soldiers or served at the front as battlefield reporters. Either way, the 24-hour news cycle that had returned to The Empire in recent years had receded.

  “Yes, I have a comment,” Trevor changed his trajectory and stood behind the row of protective K9s. “Those who are able to fight need to answer the call again, just as they did in the early days of the invasion. This is a desperate battle and no one can sit it out. I urge all persons of all ages and of all medical conditions to report to military centers in their regions and volunteer for duty.”

  “Are you off to the front? Where are you going?” A reporter asked.

  Trevor answered, “I’m going to visit an old friend.”

  He turned away as the reporters scrambled to decode his answer. However, Trevor found himself more befuddled than the reporters when he saw that someone had moved to block his path to the Eagle.

  She stood there on the green lawn of the estate in fatigues and a black top with her trusty M4 on her shoulder and a black beret on her head. Despite the new head gear, Trevor recognized Nina’s telltale golden ponytail dangling to her shoulder blades. He also recognized the black and gray Norwegian elkhound at her side because that dog had belonged to Richard Stone in the old world.

  He walked away from the reporters not sure if his gait appeared as wobbly as it felt. He heard the guards push the trio of questioners away, out of earshot.

  “Captain Forest?”

  “Hello, um, sir.”

  Odin, her dog, trotted to Trevor with his head lowered obediently. The beast appeared old and shaggy and his white undercoat shed in bushels. He knelt and patted his old elkhound between the ears. Nina, for her part, took notice of the body language of familiarity between the two.

  She said, “I wanted to, well, I wanted to see you before I left. Or, I guess, well, before you left, too.”

  “Oh,” he gave Odin another good pat then stood. “Well I’m—I’m glad you did.”

  The two walked side by side along the grounds leaving the front yard in favor of the quieter north side.

  He stumbled, “I don’t know if I ever really thanked you, um, for last year. You came and found me. And all. I mean, thank you.”

  Trevor knew his voice trembled with nerves. He did not know that Nina heard that tremble not as nerves, but as discomfort. She nearly ran away at the sound in fear that he did not want to talk to her; that whatever she had done to make him disavow their love a decade ago was so horrible that he could not bear her presence.

  Nonetheless, she stayed. An act of courage on par with anything she dared on the battlefield.

  “It was my duty,” she said with a stiff resolve meant to sound soldierly. But that resolve faded. “And I wanted to,” she admitted.

  They entered the shade of maples and oaks along the northern side of the mansion. Ahead lay the barn where the original pack of Grenadiers had lived and bred.

  Trevor listened to her words and wished he could believe that he heard a tone of affection. But that was impossible. She did not remember what she had meant to him. She could not. That life had been stolen from her by The Order’s Bishop.

  So he stepped carefully with his response, the way a nerdy teenage boy may worry that his every word to the class beauty might reveal his secret crush and cause embarrassment of a high-school apocalyptic scale.

  “Through all of this you have been an excellent—an excellent warrior, Nina.”

  She felt him choose his words carefully, like a master tactician moving the right
pieces in order to not expose others.

  He continued, “I have a great deal of respect for you. I always have.”

  A breeze sent a whirlwind of decaying leaves spinning in the damp shadows beneath the trees.

  She removed her beret and replied, “Sir, I—I’ve always tried my best. I’m just saying, it’s because of you. You always—I always wanted to do right by you.”

  She hoped he heard an apology for whatever she had done a decade before; whatever she had done to keep him from seeking her again after The Order had stolen her memories.

  They stopped near the old shooting range. Frayed clothesline still ran on pulleys and held paper targets that fluttered in the breeze. A pair of Grenadiers marched out from the K9 barn and headed off on patrol.

  He wished he could take her by the shoulders, look into those blue eyes, and confess. But what good would that do? The Nina he had known and loved no longer existed.

  A small helicopter swooped overhead unseen above the budding branches.

  Nina struggled to keep from bursting. She stood close to him now and she realized that for years all she really wanted was to be close to him. Why had it taken her this long to understand that she loved him? He was a man with a single purpose, just as she seemed to have only one purpose. It consumed him just as her instincts drove her to battle. Yet Nina felt certain she could find more with him. It pained her—a horrid, aching pain—that apparently she had once known that greater purpose and had done something to lose it.

  Trevor said, “I’ve always been able to count on you, Nina. You’ve done some of the most difficult, and nastiest, jobs in this war. I often times think of you as my sword,” he paused and grimaced as the words sounded sour to him. “I don’t mean as a thing—an object—I mean, I mean as one of the few—one of the few people I could count on no matter what. You’ve always been sturdy and true.”

  She heard praise for his best soldier. She also heard an undercurrent of emotion. She feared he might say something like why did you betray me? We had something together and you screwed it up! Why?

  Regardless, she refused to walk away. She had to make him know that she regretted any past misdeed. She turned and faced him with the same bravery in which she faced the nearly indestructible Shadow in Wilmington or the flying spawn from a hideous Hostile 157. Indeed, to Nina Forest affairs of the heart proved more frightening than any beast conjured in that new world.

  She found her eyes locked onto his; held captive by the intensity of his stare. In those eyes she saw something—a sadness of loss—a longing. Yes, there had once been something more with this man and the memories of it scarred him.

  He spoke softly, “What you did for me last summer was more than a person should be asked to do. I don’t know how it has affected you, but you know there’s more to all this than meets the eye.”

  Trevor could not help but be fixated by her gaze. He wondered if he had pursued her after the removal of that implant if he could have duplicated the events that led to their union. Doing so would have been against the will of the Old Man and his ilk, but as the armies of Voggoth marched across the Great Plains he wondered if that would have been preferable; if perhaps winning this war would eventually hinge on breaking those rules.

  On disobeying Gods.

  Trevor’s hand rose, with no conscious thought; he felt detached from it. Perhaps the ghost of a former self seized control. That hand reached to her cheek.

  “You risked a lot,” he whispered.

  Nina felt his touch. She sensed warmth there and it unlocked a sensation from years ago; another memory that might have been his or might have been hers but it felt real all the same: a comfortableness in another’s soul. A feeling of sameness, of trust, of devotion.

  She saw that sadness in his eyes again and felt ashamed. He had loved her once; this came through with an unmistakable energy. But she had betrayed him or hurt him or both. Intentional or not, the removal of her memories had only made it easier on her. She wished she had never seen that tape. She wished she had no recollection of all she had lost.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered an apology for what she could not remember.

  Trevor withdrew his hand, embarrassed he had done something unprofessional. He unfairly placed her in an awkward position. He had no business doing that. Whatever the past, this woman was not the Nina Forest he had loved.

  Still loved.

  He had no right to treat her as such. He could only imagine the confusion she felt. The Emperor—the man whom she followed without question—touching her like a husband to a wife; a man to his lover. He felt guilty again. It seemed no matter what he said or did it could only compound his agony and confuse her.

  “No,” he volleyed, “I’m sorry. I should not have done that.”

  “It’s okay,” she grabbed his retreating hand with both of hers. “It was—it was nice. This is strange for me to say. Look, I mean, I don’t know how to put this but I’ve always, well, felt close to you. I always did my job because I didn’t want to let you down.”

  His fingers trembled in her grasp. For the first time since the early days he felt a surge of confidence; confidence in his humanity. A strength that could lift him above the doubt and guilt and regret. A strong shoulder to support the weight of the world.

  He stuttered, “T-tell me, Nina. Last summer—when you helped me—what did you—what did you…”

  She understood.

  “I felt your pain. Your fear. Whoever he was, he allowed me to take some of that from you. He said it was the only way to save you.”

  “And you did.”

  “I owed you,” she smiled, a little. “You did the same for me once.”

  He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes.

  She answered the question expressed in his gaze, “Ohio. When my team was ambushed. You came all the way out there to bring me back. I’m just saying, I owed you for that.”

  He admitted freely, “I couldn’t abandon you. After all you’ve meant to us—to me.”

  Nina felt her heart race. There, in a simple sentence, all her suspicions confirmed.

  After all you’ve meant—to me.

  He slipped his hands free of her grasp. He had said too much.

  “Nina, things are coming to a head now. You’ve got a soldier’s instincts, what do you feel?”

  “From what you said in the meeting this morning it sounds like things don’t look good. I’m just saying, if The Order doesn’t break through at the Mississippi this next time, then they’ll just keep coming until they do.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders.

  “Then go after them, Nina. This is your last mission. Hit them where it hurts. They need to farm; hit their farms. They set up forward operating bases; take out their command and control. Hurt them, Nina.”

  “I will,” she promised.

  Trevor then leaned in close; so very, very close. She felt his breath against her cheek. She swore she could hear his heartbeat.

  He spoke in a not-so-subtle code. On the surface they could each pretend he spoke of all humanity, but in reality they both knew the truth to be much more personal: “Nina, they’re the ones who stole from us. Make them pay for that. Hunt them down and hurt them. For me—and for you. For what we lost. For what they took.”

  Then she felt his lips against her forehead. A gentle, light kiss.

  That warm feeling returned stronger than ever. It wrapped around her in a blanket. She felt needed and loved. Without any consideration she found her arms wrapping around his waist, her face burying into his chest, and his strong hug embracing her. And with it came a power she had never known.

  I love you.

  When he released and stepped back, awkwardly, she found a different emotion: acute anger. For she realized now what she had once had with Trevor Stone, a feeling more powerful than any weapon she ever wielded; more intense than any firefight.

  And they had taken it from her, those architects of Armageddon.

  …they’re t
he ones who stole from us. Make them pay for that. Hunt them down and hurt them.

  And she would.

  They will pay.

  Trevor glanced around the estate grounds. He saw no spying eyes.

  She replaced the beret on her head. A soldier again.

  “Good luck to you,” he offered from two full paces away.

  She replied, “You, too.”

  “I have to go,” he said, reluctantly. “I have to—I have to go visit an old friend. Something I have to do. That’s sort of been the story in all this,” he tried to send another message. “There have been things I’ve had to do. And things I have been forced to give up.”

  She figured that whatever wrong she had done to him had been beyond the point of forgiveness. She had been one of those things he had been forced to give up because she had done something to deserve abandonment. She could not blame him; not if she had betrayed him.

  “I—I understand.”

  “No, you don’t,” he corrected but lightheartedly. “Maybe someday you will. Maybe someday—when all this is over—it will be clear. I don’t know if that will make things better or worse. I guess we’ll see. In any case, let me say it again: thank you, for saving me.”

  Nina closed her eyes and conjured that feeling of warmth and being wanted. No matter what The Order had taken from her, at some point in the past she had been a complete person.

  No, Trevor, thank you for saving me.

  “Mother,” Jorgie Benjamin Stone stood at the doorway to his room with his grandfather at his side and looked in at Ashley, “I won’t need all of that. Father said we’ll be traveling light.”

  Ashley had already stacked a small suitcase full of underwear, socks, and t-shirts. The second suitcase—for pants, sweatshirts, and jeans—would come next.

  Her frustration boiled over.

  “Well maybe your father is wrong, did you ever think of that? Did that ever cross your mind? Father isn’t always right, you know. He—he makes mistakes. He’s been known to be wrong. Maybe just once mother knows what’s best.”