There was nothing like moving through snow to clear your head, and the Washington Mall was the perfect place for a run. A quietness came with a gentle snowfall such as this one that reminded Freddy of the magical way he’d felt as a child. In later years, he’d lost that magic, but he still wanted to remember the feeling.
God, the world was a screwed-up mess. But it was his world and he’d be damned if he’d hand it over to the Kasari Collective without a fight. Fortunately, the team that had cobbled itself together under his watch was still out there, readying themselves for the struggle to come.
In recent days, he’d gotten several updates from Eileen, Jamal, and Denise Jennings, who were now secretly ensconced on the estate of Mexican president and Safe Earth backer Manuel Suarez. An old friend of Freddy’s, he’d been quite thrilled to add the former NSA trio to his team, despite the fact that they were on the run from the UFNS. The three computer geniuses gave A Safe Earth an enhanced hacking capability that the movement had been sorely lacking.
But the best news had come in a short video from Mark and Heather. Although they would not say where they were, they had escaped the conflagration in Lima. They had made their way to a secret facility from which they would be working to develop the technologies needed in the coming struggle. They had appeared battered and bruised, but to Freddy, they had looked damn good. They were alive.
And the president of the United States had actually strapped on some cojones and instigated an investigation into that bastard Prokorov and his FSS war machine. Not that Freddy expected anything to come of it. Prokorov was too slick, too much of an old FSB and KGB hand to let anyone prove that he had a hand in the EMP attack that had turned Lima, Peru, into a post-apocalyptic wasteland.
Freddy’s stride carried him in front of the Lincoln Memorial where old Abe, seated in his grand chair, looked solemnly down on him. There was no doubt in Freddy’s mind that if Abe were here today, he would be leading the Safe Earth movement instead of a washed-out old investigative reporter turned senator. Ah well. The movement would have to make do with the players it had.
Freddy hoped that would be enough.
The smell.
Heather closed her eyes and inhaled as deeply as her lungs would allow. The aroma of the turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and gravy arrayed in platters across the long dining room table pulled forth the memory of many happy Thanksgiving dinners at the family house in White Rock. Her mouth watered in anticipation. Such a wonderful dream.
But when she opened her eyes to see the smiling faces and laughing voices of her family and friends, gathered here for a welcome home celebration at this most secret of places, she accepted the fact that this was real. Seated around the table, which had been extended with the addition of three table leaves, were her mom and dad, Linda and Fred Smythe, Jack, Janet, Robby, Yachay, and Mark, his hand squeezing hers beneath the table.
The trip to New Zealand had taken them much longer than expected, but with the help of Tall Bear, the NPA, and their Safe Earth allies, they had made it. This morning, Gil and Fred had given them a grand tour of the upgraded facilities within the mining complex. Heather had been stunned to see the progress their fathers had made. The expanded production of robots had enabled them to accelerate the excavation, spreading the complex beyond the old mine tunnels. With the matter disrupter-synthesizer online, they had plenty of power to spare. Considering all the new equipment Heather intended to build, that was a good thing.
But thoughts of work could wait. Even though today wasn’t Thanksgiving, this was a time for rejoicing.
“All right, everyone,” Anna said, taking her seat beside Gil. “I think we’re ready to eat.”
Beside her, his left arm in a sling, Mark clinked his spoon against his wine glass and stood.
“I would like to propose two toasts.”
With clinks all around, everyone raised their glasses.
“First,” he said, raising his glass high, “to good friends and family.”
“To good friends and family,” everyone echoed.
“And finally, here’s to the memory of a special loved one who isn’t here but who made all of this possible . . . to Jennifer.”
Heather felt a lump rise in her throat and saw Linda Smythe blink away sudden tears. They all raised their voices in unison.
“To Jennifer.”
EPILOGUE
Khal Teth watched the gathering through Jack’s eyes. What did the humans call this feeling? Déjà vu. This humble family gathering. So peaceful. So pleasant. So boring . . . yet filled with dark portent.
This comfortable group of friends and family, gathered in a remote corner of this world, were Earth’s only hope of salvation from the storm that was forming, although their victory was far from certain. They each knew it, but here they sat for one more evening of denial.
His visions rolled out before him, different paths, all leading to the same destiny. All save one. And along that path, Jack Gregory strode, heading to a place Khal Teth had once called home.
The thought triggered a memory once lost to him.
I stride the familiar curved hallway toward a rendezvous that has been too long in coming, savoring the view through the Parthian’s transparent outer wall and ceiling. Low on the horizon, Quol’s purple moon looms in stark contrast to the lacy-orange Krell Nebula, which forms a backdrop in the dark sky. But tonight I have no time for idle reflection.
As I make my way toward the chambers of Valen Roth, overlord of the High Council, I encounter no other living being. I feel other Altreian minds clustered behind nano-particle doors throughout the immense web of rooms that form the Parthian, but none step out to confront me. Wise choice.
Not even Valen Roth can withstand the full power of my mind. Up ahead, he awaits my arrival, aware of my dissatisfaction with his latest edict, but feeling secure in the protection the One Law provides every member of the High Council. For thousands of cycles, no one has dared risk the punishment its violation would provoke. Until tonight.
Jack’s reflection in his own upraised wine glass extracted Khal Teth from the vision. It wasn’t the wine that put the red glint in Jack’s eyes. Khal Teth’s vision had done that.
He studied Jack’s reflection and smiled, his thoughts returning to the memory of a destiny they both now shared. Whatever happened from here on, it was going to be one hell of a ride.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank Alan Werner for the hours he spent working with me on the story. Thank you to my editor, Clarence Haynes, for his wonderful help in fine-tuning the end product, along with the outstanding editorial and production staff at 47North. I also want to thank my agent, Paul Lucas, for the work he has done to bring my novels to a wider audience. Finally, my biggest thanks go to my lovely wife, Carol, for supporting me and for being my sounding board throughout the writing of all of my novels.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Richard Phillips was born in Roswell, New Mexico, in 1956. He graduated from the United States Military Academy at West Point in 1979 and qualified as an Army Ranger, going on to serve as an officer in the U.S. Army. He earned a master’s degree in physics from the Naval Postgraduate School in 1989, completing his thesis work at Los Alamos National Laboratory. After working as a research associate at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, he returned to the army to complete his tour of duty. Today he lives with his wife, Carol, in Phoenix, Arizona, where he writes science fiction thrillers.
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