by Alex Siegel
"Unit K thought the same thing. They're all dead or in prison now. I won't take that chance. We attack tonight with all the soldiers we can muster. Hold nothing back."
"And if it doesn't work?" Walker said.
"Then we'll attack again tomorrow with the rest. We won't stop until we succeed or run out of men. We will not fail for lack of effort."
That statement struck him as ignorant and foolish. Erika had never fought in a war. She had no understanding of how armies actually behaved. If the casualties became too severe, soldiers would run away. A good general made sure the situation never reached that point.
"Yes, ma'am," Walker said. "I'll start sending out the orders. What are your plans regarding the President?"
She shrugged. "He's secure. I'm not concerned."
"I'd feel better if we just had him killed."
"You don't throw away a valuable piece like that. He's the President of the United States. He has a lot of power. I can use my pheromones to control him and take that power for myself. After this battle is over, I'll fly to Washington and do exactly that."
"Still," he said, "leaving him alive is dangerous. It would be bad if he escaped. I suggest you at least consider the option of killing him."
"I will," Erika said. "Now deliver those orders. We have a battle to fight."
* * *
Smythe was driving through the slushy streets of Niles. The sun was low on the horizon, and the light in his eyes was making it hard to see. Occasional patches of ice on the road added to the degree of difficulty. Even more snow was falling. He couldn't believe there was any moisture left in the air after weeks of precipitation.
Fortunately, traffic was extremely light. He could almost drive down the middle of the road safely. The triple-threat of miserable weather, the cannibal plague, and a military occupation had shut down the city. People left their homes only as a last resort.
This part of Niles contained light industry. The car passed a recycling center and a repair shop. There was an impressively large plumbing supply store. Every door had a "closed" sign on it.
"You got my story last year," Hanley said, "but I never got yours."
Smythe glanced at him. Both men wore Army uniforms with the stripes of sergeants. With his powerfully built body and handsome face, Hanley made a fine soldier. He had the straight posture to match.
"I was an Army doctor," Smythe said. "A pathologist and a surgeon. I served three tours in the hell that we call Afghanistan."
"I had a few missions there when I was a Navy Seal," Hanley said.
"Then you know what I mean. I got into some trouble over mistreatment of enemy prisoners. I'd rather not go into the details. The Army sent me off to the Medical Research Institute for Infectious Diseases as a kind of career exile."
"That doesn't sound so bad."
"It wasn't awful," Smythe said. "At least I was still a practicing doctor. A strange disease hit Chicago, and I was part of the team that investigated the outbreak. At that time, the Chicago cell was Ethel, Aaron, and Marina, and they were doing the same. We bumped into each other one night. That's when Ethel recruited me into the Society."
Hanley nodded. "It's funny how commanders always seem to find the right recruits just when they're needed most."
"Like in your case. I was a terrible legionnaire at first. I was disrespectful. I couldn't follow orders. I had opinions about everything."
"And Ethel didn't kill you? We're talking about the legate, right? Cold-blooded monster with black holes in her eyes?"
"She almost killed me," Smythe said, "but she saw talent and gave me extra chances."
Hanley whistled. "You lead a charmed life."
"I guess I do. It turned out the disease was caused by a poison invented by God's enemies. I found the cure in my lab. I'm still proud of that."
"Well done." Hanley patted Smythe on the shoulder.
Smythe noticed Hanley's palm was blood red. "What happened to your hand?"
Hanley held up both his palms. There were circular, red patches in the center which looked like fresh burns.
"That's my gift. I use my hands for echo-location. They function like bat ears, and I can basically see in the dark with them. I can also listen for echoes in solid objects."
"Very useful." Smythe nodded. "I'm still curious about Marina as a commander. It's a little hard for me to imagine her in that role. I don't mean that as an insult. She has an incredible amount of experience and talent. She just didn't strike me as the leadership type when I knew her. She was too impulsive and impatient."
"She's still impulsive. She doesn't like to spend a lot of time contemplating things, although she can if necessary. She's very intelligent. But she'd rather jump into the action right away."
"Sounds like a weakness. Aaron doesn't do anything without first having a solid plan."
"Over the last year, Marina has learned to control her nature," Hanley said. "She gives me the parameters, and I make the plans. She waits for my tactical advice. She does it because she knows I keep her out of trouble."
Smythe smiled. "Impressive. It takes a strong leader to admit they need help."
"It wasn't easy for her to admit. We had a rocky start before we learned how to work together. She almost killed me a couple of times."
Smythe saw a car dealership up ahead. Instead of new cars in the lot, there were green cargo trucks, Humvees, and armored vehicles.
He pointed. "That's it. Get into character."
Hanley sucked in his gut and straightened up.
Smythe was driving a green Humvee, so he didn't look out of place when he pulled into the parking lot. The tires veered a little on the packed snow surface. He parked as close to the door as he could get.
He and Hanley pulled on heavy, green coats. Smythe braced himself for the cold and opened the door. Biting wind hit him in the face. He blinked away the tears and went outside.
A double-door led into the dealership. Two soldiers stood on either side, and their faces were red from the cold. They were huddled down in their coats.
Smythe and Hanley showed their credentials to the guards. Perry had prepared the identification, and it looked completely authentic. The guards hardly glanced at it. They were too miserable to care. Smythe and Hanley went inside.
The Army had turned the dealership into a command post. Officers stared at maps or sat in front of computers. People were walking back and forth with reports in their hands. It appeared the highest ranking officer was a major.
Smythe intercepted a captain and said, "Sir, we need to fix your Red Eye radio."
"You do?" The captain raised his eyebrows. "Why? It seems to be working fine."
"Factory defect. Voltage instability. It will just take a minute, sir. We're fixing all the radios today."
"That's top secret equipment."
"Yes, sir." Smythe casually flashed a badge that showed he had access to classified material.
"I'd better keep an eye on you."
The captain led Smythe and Hanley to a side table. The Red Eye radio was as red as the name suggested. It looked like a big walkie-talkie from the Vietnam War and seemed out of place in an era of sleek electronics.
Smythe grabbed the radio with confidence. He took a screwdriver from a tool belt and went to work. Perry had given him very specific instructions about what to do. Smythe took off the cover to reveal a dense block of electronics inside. He took a clear plastic pouch from his pocket, and it contained a tiny computer chip with wires attached. With the deft touch of a surgeon, he began to connect the chip to the radio.
"How are you guys handling the weather, sir?" Hanley asked.
"It's a pain in the ass," the captain said. "We don't have enough coats or snow boots. The supply truck drove to Milwaukee for some damn reason."
"That sucks."
"We can't get through to the Pentagon. We can barely communicate with our people here. This whole operation is fucked up."
"I'm sure you'll get everything straightened
out, sir," Hanley said.
Smythe finished performing surgery on the radio. He screwed the cover back on and gave it to the captain.
The captain pressed the call button and said, "Testing... testing."
"Receiving loud and clear," a male voice answered through the radio.
Smythe smiled and put his screwdriver away. He and Hanley went back outside.
They had "fixed" ten radios so far. In Smythe's opinion, that was a good start. He hoped to fix some more after the big gathering of the Society at sunset.
He checked the angle of the sun. "We'd better head home."
"Yes." Hanley nodded. "We don't want to be late for the meeting of our lives."
Chapter Nine
Aaron was standing back and watching the controlled chaos that had descended on his headquarters. The aperture project was being packed up in preparation for its move to Chinatown. Fifteen scientists and thirty legionnaires were performing the labor. Their bodies were moving quickly through the crowded and cluttered space. Bethany and Leanna were overseeing the effort, and they were trying to be everywhere at once. Aaron had never seen the girls run so much. The human parts of their bodies were actually sweating.
Marina was beside Aaron, and she squeezed his hand. He gave his beautiful wife a quick kiss. Being with her again felt wonderful. The best part was that it was permanent. Nobody could ever tell them to split up again. They could have the life they had always wanted.
"It's convenient you had a second headquarters," she said.
"Yes," he said, "very. A lot of convenient things happened today. Wesley talks about fate all the time, but I usually don't buy it. In this case, it's hard to be a skeptic. Decisions I made a long time ago for different reasons are bearing fruit now in surprising ways. When we first met Wesley, we had a conversation with him at breakfast. He seemed to recognize us for the first time. Do you remember what he said?"
She scrunched up her face. "Um. I think he called us the 'Lovers' as if it was a title."
"That's right. He knew even back then."
"I think we're still missing a big part of the story."
He nodded. "I'm sure you're right."
They watched the chaos for a moment. Bethany screeched when a legionnaire picked up a piece of equipment the wrong way.
The hotel didn't have a lot of boxes or packing supplies on hand. The "movers" were making do with whatever materials were immediately available. They were using bed sheets, garbage bags, suitcases, wadded up newspapers, and even some clothes as padding. The big items were sandwiched between mattresses and tied with ropes. In the case of the aperture itself, Nancy had built a special steel frame with springs and shock absorbers.
"I had a short conversation with the twins," Marina said. "They told me the new firewall will be very effective. We might have one mission every five years on the entire Earth."
Aaron furrowed his brow. "Sounds like life in the Society will get kind of boring."
"Yes, and the firewall will get smarter. The twins' minds will be part of it, and they'll learn on the job. They told me the rate will drop to once every ten years, then once every hundred, then once every thousand. We could have generations of legionnaires who never fight. The Gray Spear Society will eventually seem pointless and irrelevant. When something does happen, we won't be ready. Imagine trying to command a mission when you've never actually done one before."
He sighed. She was making an excellent point. The Gray Spear Society was so effective in part because they had plenty of hard-won experience. They knew the tricks and had honed their instincts in the fire of battle. Aaron could tell when God's enemies were involved just by the feel of the situation. Future legionnaires wouldn't have that advantage. They would come into every mission with only the knowledge they had gleaned from the tabella or other written sources.
"I'm sure somebody thought about this," Aaron said. "Everything has been carefully planned so far. It's hard to imagine God or the twins would let this obvious issue slip through their fingers."
"I don't know how to solve it," Marina said. "How do you construct an organization that can lay dormant for generations and then be immediately ready for battle when the time comes? How do you preserve secret knowledge for hundreds or even thousands of years?"
He shrugged. "Good question."
He took out his phone and called Todd in Washington, DC. It was time to get an update.
"Sir?" Todd said.
"Are you making any progress on figuring out who shot down the legate's plane?" Aaron said.
"Some, sir. I identified the weapon at least. Black Owls were used."
"What are they?"
"Basically, drones with lasers attached," Todd said. "They fly at very high altitude and can circle for twenty hours at a time. The powerful laser technology is highly classified. Two Black Owls were over Chicago when the legate's jet was destroyed. We didn't even know about them at the time. They weren't listed on any of the normal military reports."
"Are they still up there?" Aaron glanced reflexively at the ceiling.
"Yes, sir."
"Hack them. I don't want the enemy to use them again." Aaron paused. "Actually, I want to use them instead. Take control of those drones."
"I'll do my best, sir," Todd said. "I've been trying to determine who gave the order to put them in the air. No luck so far. Somebody is playing very tricky games inside the Pentagon."
"The Fifth Corner of Freedom."
"There was another Corner?"
"That's our theory," Aaron said. "The Pentagon has five."
"Damn it!"
"Call me if you discover anything new." Aaron hung up and called Wendy, the banker in Manhattan.
"How can I help you, sir?" she said.
"I asked you to figure out who paid Unit K."
"We're working on it. We're finding evidence of international financial fraud on a scale I didn't think was possible. There is some kind of global conspiracy behind it."
"Really?" Aaron said.
"Yes, sir. It might even involve governments."
"It involves God's enemies. We know that much. Talk to bankers in other divisions if you need to. You have my blessing to reach out and get whatever help you need."
"Don't I need permission from the other legates, sir?" Wendy said.
"No. My word is enough. I'm the Lord of the Society now." He explained what that meant.
She was silent for a moment. "Congratulations, sir. Now I can tell people I handled your money back when you were just a piddling commander."
Aaron smiled. "Get back to work. This is really important."
"Yes, sir."
He hung up.
Marina looked at him. "Progress?"
Aaron summarized the reports for her.
"There is a lot going on," she said.
He nodded.
Wesley walked up to them. A broad smile on the boy's perfect face made it even more beautiful. He had trimmed and brushed his brown hair. He was wearing the formal gray robes of a legate, and they looked odd on his small body.
"You look nice," Aaron said.
"I want to make a good impression when everybody sees me. I'll go first. I'll make the introductions, and then you can talk."
Terror gripped Aaron's heart. He had always suffered from stage fright. He didn't like people looking at him, especially in large numbers. He was reclusive by nature.
"I have a question," Marina said. "After the new firewall is in place, life in the Society will be very quiet. Too quiet. How are we going to stay sharp and ready to fight?"
Wesley nodded. "That's a very perceptive question. The twins came up with a brilliant solution."
"Which is?"
"You'll find out after we move to Chinatown. I'll tell everybody there at once."
She furrowed her brow. "Another secret?"
"The craziest of all."
"Will I like it?"
"I don't know," he said. "I'll only say that the twins' solution is radical. Even
I barely believe it's really possible. When I explain, you'll think I'm making it up."
Aaron frowned.
"Which reminds me," Wesley said. "The aperture will be open for only ten minutes, and it will never open again. Aaron, you need to be there."
"But I'll be here, fighting the good fight."
"Listen, the right people need to be present when the aperture is open, and that list includes you two most of all. We'll have a big problem if you miss that appointment."
Aaron raised his eyebrows. "The 'right' people? Does this have something to do with the twins' radical solution and the craziest secret of all?"
"Exactly." Wesley grinned. "Nothing gets by you. It's time to go downstairs."
Aaron swallowed. "Can't we just wait a couple more minutes?"
"No. It's just fear. You'll survive."
Aaron took a deep breath. He yelled, "The meeting is now! I need everybody to go to the ballroom immediately! Stop what you're doing."
The commotion stopped. The scientists and legionnaires headed towards the elevator. Bethany and Leanna remained behind.
"You, too," Wesley told them.
"But we have so much work to do!" Bethany said.
"It can wait. This is a big deal. We're all going."
She nodded. "OK."
Aaron took Marina's hand, and they left. It's just fear, he told himself. I'll survive.
* * *
I won't survive, Aaron thought.
He and Marina were standing off to the side in the ballroom. A temporary stage had been built at one end using wooden platforms. Eight men and women in the robes of legionnaires stood on the stage, each with a microphone in hand. They were the translators. They would echo Aaron's words in other languages so everybody would understand. It was a very international audience.
Aaron looked at the audience, and his breath caught in his throat. Nearly a thousand people were standing in the huge ballroom. Most wore formal robes, but some were still dressed as civilians. The journey to Chicago had been difficult for many, and luggage had been lost. It didn't matter.
The people had naturally congregated by division and ethnicity. The Chinese were packed together in one big mass. A mob of Indians stood in a back corner. The Africans weren't as tightly clustered suggesting the various tribes weren't comfortable with each other. Aaron recognized the North American commanders and some of the legionnaires from the convention last winter.