by SW Matthews
“We’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way,” he said to himself.
He peered through the eyepiece. He estimated the shot to be around eight hundred and fifty yards. Not his farthest successful shot, but it was going to be his most difficult. He was approximately sixty feet above the street, on a flat roof, and his line of fire passed between two buildings. The one on the right was on the next block over but on the corner of the angled street; the one on the left was another block farther and was an angular building with edges protruding over the street. Beyond the buildings stood the civic center park and the capitol building. The park’s many trees were sprouting new leaves, and the podium was on the steps of the capitol building, one level above the street, which was filled with cameras and reporters. All told, the shot would have to remain within an imaginary cylinder of less than three inches in diameter, reaching from Tuck’s location to the podium, in order to evade the obstacles and strike the target.
Tuck exhaled and tried to slow his breathing and pulse. He kept his focus on the small sliver of the podium he could see through the scope and tried not to think about finding a different position. This one would have to do.
He had been surprised at how easy it had been to secure his position. He had simply walked into the building—an athletic club—and said he was there on police business, to secure the perimeter for the speech.
“I thought you guys left a while ago,” said the front desk worker.
“Back now. Need to get to the roof,” he said.
The woman shrugged and pointed to the stairs, then went back to her magazine.
Tuck had quickly located the only location for the shot. It was on the southeast corner of the building, and he had to lean out over the edge of the roof in order to get the podium in his sights. He was able to rest the barrel on the ledge, which helped, but holding the position for very long was going to tire him—which would likely cause him to miss—so he sat back and relaxed while watching the scene casually through the scope. He would take position again only when it was time to act.
As he monitored the reporters and cameramen talking and joking with each other, he considered his choice again. As soon as he had heard that President Porter was working with Braxton, and that Vice President Cole was trying to stop him, he knew what needed to happen. But he did have one reservation about this plan.
It wasn’t the killing that was the problem. He was convinced his target was a cohort of Braxton’s, and therefore evil, and he had never had an issue with killing evil people. And he had no problem with sacrificing his own life for the benefit of others, either—for he didn’t even hope to escape once he pulled the trigger. In fact, he planned to surrender willingly.
No, his only reservation was not going back to help Andy and Piper.
Tuck had always strived to be an honorable man. Honest and trustworthy, virtuous and reliable. He prided himself on his adherence to his principles, and he accepted justified punishments without anger or thought of retribution. When he witnessed hints of those same traits in others, he gave respect and friendship freely, silently welcoming those individuals to his pack.
Piper was one of those. She had made sacrifices and worked to help a damaged man, the man she loved, and Tuck had recognized her selflessness. He had grown to love her like a sister.
And Andy had saved his life. Against orders and at great risk. Others had died, but Andy had always promised to never leave anyone behind—and he didn’t. After that, Tuck had sworn to protect him.
And he had, until now. Now he was betraying that oath, just when his friend needed him the most.
“Maybe this is why he saved me,” he said to himself. “Maybe this is why I didn’t die that day.”
And then there was Bash. Tuck’s oldest friend and just as righteous, but now at odds with him. He would kill Andy, and probably Piper. And Tuck could stop him.
Then again, Sepe had promised ten good fighters would go with Doc back to Lakeland, and ten Mexican gang soldiers should be able to handle Bash. Whereas only Tuck could make this shot.
At the capitol building, the reporters suddenly turned to the podium. Cameras were raised and aimed at the steps.
Tuck lowered the scope, took a few deep breaths and wiped a tear from his eye as he looked up to the bright afternoon sky. “I’m sorry, Skipper,” he whispered. Then he leaned over the edge of the roof, rested the barrel on the ledge, exhaled slowly, and peered through the scope once more.
After a few very long moments he pulled the trigger.
Chapter 44
Symon Cole turned from the television monitor to the old man across the room. Chief Justice Leggett held a small Bible. He opened it and removed a small sheet of paper, then stood and walked toward Symon.
“This is why we’re here,” he said quietly.
Symon looked at all the people around the room. His assistant, Benji; Secretary Sullivan; Speaker of the House Henri Belloq; several aides and assistants; and many Secret Service agents. All eyes were on him.
The door to the bunker opened and more agents came in, followed by Chief of Staff Maxine Lorentz. Her graying hair was messy, her dark pantsuit rumpled. Droplets of blood had splattered on her face. Her eyes locked on Cole as she stepped aside and ushered in an agent with a camera.
“We have to document this,” she said, motioning for the impromptu cameraman to begin recording.
“Are you sure?” Cole asked.
“He’s dead, Sy,” said Lorentz. “I saw his head explode. I was standing right behind him.”
“What about the double?”
Lorentz shook her head. “The entire thing was live, and recorded by all the networks. No one who saw that would even think he might be alive. The double is useless. You’re up.”
Symon looked at the cameraman, who nodded at him. He then turned toward Leggett, stood straight, and looked the older man in the eye.
Leggett held up the Bible. “Mr. Cole, please raise your right hand and place your left on the Bible.” Cole did so, and the Chief Justice continued, now reading from the paper. “Repeat after me. I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of United North America…”
“I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the Office of President of United North America…”
“And will to the best of my ability…”
“And will to the best of my ability…”
“Preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of United North America…”
“Preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of United North America…”
“So help me God.”
“So help me God.”
Leggett placed the paper back into the Bible and extended his hand to Cole. “Congratulations, Mr. President,” he said as they shook hands.
Cole nodded at him, then turned to Secretary Sullivan. “I want you to stop the attack on China. Now,” he said.
Sullivan looked at him incredulously. He glanced at Speaker Belloq, then back to Cole. “But Sy… we can’t just stop it. It’s already in progress.”
“Go make the calls. Stop the attack. That’s an order.”
“The EMP attack is launched. It can’t be stopped—”
“Then stop everything else! The missiles, the troops. Go—now.”
Sullivan stared at Cole for a moment, then exited the bunker.
Cole turned to Benji. “Get Billy Braxton on the line for me. He called me earlier, use that number.”
“Yes, sir.”
Benji had barely stepped out of the bunker when Lorentz held up a commlink. “Mr. President? You have a call. It’s William Braxton the Sixth.”
Chapter 45
Everyone in the Nog had stopped what they were doing to watch the screens at the front of the room. The president had just started his speech when he suddenly collapsed in a cloud of red mist. The networks were showing different views of the scene, but mostly they consisted of people screaming and running and the podium being overtake
n by a swarm of Secret Service agents. One network cut to drone footage of a police officer standing on top of a five-story brick building with his hands raised. Before the drone could get too close, the footage was cut off and switched back to the reporter in the studio confirming that the president was dead.
“Can you go back to that footage?” asked Rosie.
“Which one?” Firi asked.
“The guy on the roof.”
Firi pulled the footage up on his monitor and played it for Rosie.
“Stop there!” she said. The screen froze, and Rosie squinted. “Can you zoom in?”
“Sure.” The young man tapped a few keys.
As the image became larger, so did Rosie’s eyes. “Tuck?” she said. She turned to look at her father, who was still at the map. “Dad? You need to see this.”
Doc rushed to her side and looked at the screen. “It—it can’t be,” he said. “He was just here.”
“Studying the map,” said Rosie. “He was finding a location to fire from.”
“And he may have just saved millions of lives,” said Kat. “Sy is now president.”
Before Doc could reply, his commlink sounded. He answered, and a voice told him to hold for the president.
“It’s Sy,” he whispered to Kat.
The new president came on the line. “Billy,” he said quietly. “I don’t have much time, so just listen. I can’t stop the EMP attack—but I think I can halt the missile launch. The soldiers are in submarines and are out of contact right now, but Sullivan has been ordered to stop the attack.”
“What about the drones?” Doc asked.
“Shit, I forgot about the drones.”
“That’s actually good. Don’t stop them. We’ll take care of it.”
“You will? How?”
“We got some help. We may actually need the drones if the soldiers still attack.”
“Okay, I’ll leave the drones to you then. Oh, and I also called off the search for you guys, so you’re safe to come out of whatever hole you found.”
“Great. Thanks, Sy.”
“All right, I need to go. I’ve been summoned to Rainier Island to meet with your dad.”
“What?”
“My chief of staff is waiting to escort me. Guess I’m about to find out what’s really going on.”
“Play along, Sy. If you don’t, he will kill you.”
“Right. Bye, Billy.”
The line went dead.
Doc turned to his sister. “Dad called Sy to Rainier. He’s going there now. And Sy called off the hunt for us.”
“So we can go back to the hospital,” Rosie asked.
Doc nodded.
One of the network anchors interrupted them with a breaking news bulletin. “This just in. A source with the Denver police has informed us that they have taken into custody a man who they say has admitted to killing the president.” The screen showed police leading a handcuffed man into an armored vehicle. The man was dressed in a police uniform. He had thick black hair and a bushy black beard—and he was Chinese. “The man, a Chinese sniper, surrendered willingly and claims to have been acting under orders from his government to assassinate President Porter.”
Doc and Rosie looked at each other, confused.
“It’s a setup,” said Kat.
Rosie turned to Firi. “Can you pull up that drone footage again?”
He typed, squinted at the screen, then typed some more. “It’s gone.”
“What?”
Firi shook his head. “It’s gone. I can’t find it.”
“You have to admit, it’s pretty amazing how fast Dad is able to work,” Kat said. “He’s turned the whole thing to his advantage in a matter of minutes.”
“Then… what’s happened to Tuck?” Rosie asked.
Kat looked at Doc, who shook his head and looked away. Kat took a deep breath. “He’s dead, Rosie. There’s no way Dad would let him survive—it would interfere with the narrative he’s trying to establish. By blaming this assassination on China, he’ll have full justification to attack them—if Sy can’t stop him.”
Tears formed in Rosie’s eyes, and she buried her face in her hands.
Doc rubbed his daughter’s shoulders. “It’s okay, Rosie,” he said quietly. “He’s a hero. We can’t let his sacrifice be for nothing. We’ll mourn him later, but right now we need to focus on the drones, just in case Dad is able to override Sy.”
“And I think we should count on that, at this point,” said Kat. “Firi, can you get back into the navy’s system?”
“Of course.” He typed for only seconds before asking, “Okay, now what?”
Doc shrugged. “Can you check for… I don’t know. Unusual activity?”
Firi typed. “Looks like one thousand drones are getting ready for takeoff from Saskatoon,” he said.
Doc and Kat smiled at each other.
“Good job!” said Kat. “Can you find out what they’re programmed to do?”
Firi typed and talked at the same time. “Five hundred are going to Lhasa, and five hundred are going to… Kashgar. Each has a designated target. Looks like they’re programmed to kamikaze. They’re supposed to randomly open fire as they near their targets, then crash into the specified locations.”
“We need to cancel those orders,” Kat said.
“How do we get them to target the soldiers?” Doc asked.
Rosie wiped her eyes. “Didn’t Piper say they used sound to find their targets?”
“Right, right,” said Doc. “They used radar, cameras, and sound. But that may have just been for those on Appalachia Island.”
“Most of the targets are map coordinates,” said Firi, “so static locations, like buildings. But a few are electronic signals. Moving targets, probably tanks or something.”
“Surely all of the UNA soldiers have some type of tracking device implanted, or in their gear?” said Kat.
“Can you find out?” Rosie asked Firi.
“Anything for you, Rosie Posey.” Firi went back to work. “Once we determine the type of tracking device they have, it will be easy to reprogram the drones to fire on them.”
“But no crashing,” said Rosie. “We only want them to fire their laser to shut off the pump.”
“Got it, no crashing,”
Sepe entered the Nog, followed closely by another man. “The fighters are ready,” Sepe said to Doc. “I have my best soldiers waiting out in the hub for you. The pig who threatens your friend will stand no chance against my panther warriors.” He motioned to the man behind him. “This is the capitan, Elvis.”
Elvis stepped forward and shook Doc’s hand. He was not large, but he was fit and trim, and his handshake was firm. He wore black and gray camouflage fatigues, with black boots and gloves. His dark hair was peppered with white, as was his mustache, but his eyes were pure black and directed straight at Doc’s. “Hello, Dr. Braxton. Sepe has told me the entire story. I assure you that my commandos and I can save your friends.”
“Thank you, Elvis. They’re no longer searching for us, so I’m going to have the helijet pick us up at the hospital. We just need transport there.”
“I’ll have two vans take all of you,” Sepe said. He turned to Kat and with a smile added, “It will be much more comfortable for you than the back of my cousin’s little truck.”
Doc headed for the door. “I’ll call for the helijet now.”
“I wish we had some way to contact the boys,” said Kat. “To make sure they’re okay and let them know we’re coming.”
“Me too, Aunt Kat,” said Rosie. “But for now, we just need to focus on saving Andy and Piper. Then we can go get the boys ourselves.”
Chapter 46
The gathering of Chinese leaders occurred at the same table, in the same bunker, just outside the country’s capital city. But this discussion was much more urgent.
“The attack is imminent, Ushi!” Aigu exclaimed. “They blame the assassination on us! We must be ready!”
Pres
ident Ru looked around at his colleagues. They were all awaiting his orders.
His eyes came to rest on the vice president. “Any contact with Cole?” he asked.
“No, sir,” replied Zhen. “We have not been able to reach anyone from the UNA. Each attempt is met with complete silence.”
Ru sighed and rubbed his chin.
“Ushi! We must act now! The attack—”
“I know, Egg!” the president said, cutting him off. He turned to Rao and sighed. “Chairman Rao, please tell me again about your… squadrons.”
Rao nodded. “The servo-soldier is neurologically linked to the pilot by a bio-cyber interface allowing him or her to disappear into the machine and provide reflexes and instincts which are not programmable—”
Ru held up his hands. “I don’t care about all of that. Just give me the simple version. What types of robots do you have, and what can they do?”
The old man smiled. “The scouts are built for stealth and information-gathering. Their armor and firepower is minimal, but their technology is unrivaled by anyone, including the UNA. You could think of them like a silent, invisible motorcycle that can detect intruders many miles away.
“The sentries are heavily armored and carry the most powerful weapons, mostly heavy artillery, but also flamethrowers and machine guns, as well as a limited supply of missiles. Think of them like tanks, but the armor is much stronger. In our tests, one Servo-Sentry was able to destroy seventeen tanks before it became inoperable.”
Ru raised his eyebrows. “Impressive.”
“Finally, the slayers can be thought of as a combination of the scout and the sentry. I can assure you they are very deadly. One Servo-Slayer can eradicate, on average, one hundred and thirteen foot soldiers before being damaged beyond function.”
“These robots are ground-based?” asked Aigu.
“They are, but they are capable of short periods of flight as well, to aid deployment and extraction. But several of the pilots have learned to use the aviation capabilities to their advantage during battle.”