Empire ba-2

by Anthony DeCosmo

  She flicked a latch on the top of the box and opened the lid. The pinball earned its name from its looks, albeit much larger than something one might find in an arcade. The silver surface of the ‘ball’ fluttered a little, as if not quite solid. The ball itself did not touch the sides of the box; anti-gravity circuits similar to the ones found in an Eagle air ship kept the device from touching anything.

  “Wow,” the Specialist said. “I hear it takes like forever to make one of these.”

  “Look, I got to move. Pull the K9s back. If this doesn’t work, keep the civilians out of its path until you can find more rockets.”

  Nina jumped into the driver’s seat and drove off in the Humvee. Behind her, the Specialist and the Commander whistled for the Grenadiers to retreat.

  The Shadow wobbled along the parking lot adjacent to a large clearing amidst a patch of woodland. Pieces of a castle-a prop from some movie-remained in that clearing.

  Nina drove the Humvee directly at the Shadow. Retreating Grenadiers raced the opposite direction. She counted only five. The dogs had bought her time but at the price of half their number.

  As she drove, she honked the horn, grabbing the entity’s attention.

  She stepped on the gas, aiming straight for the black void.

  It reached down to greet the suicidal human. Nina threw herself from the vehicle. Her body hit and rolled along the pavement. She felt a stinging pain in her wrist and a solid thump on her head.

  The Humvee coasted into the creature, into the black space that defined the Shadow. A blinding flash of light marked the impact, but no noise.

  Nina lifted her aching head from the pavement and watched the Shadow blow apart like a shattered window. That static sound rippled through the air growing so loud it sounded like an electronic scream.

  When the sound subsided, the ‘pieces’ of black that had been the creature fluttered like feathers carried on the wind…then faded away.

  Despite a bandage wrapped on her wrist, a deep thigh bruise, and a throbbing ache in her head, Nina drove Denise home to Wrightsville Beach.

  “You know,” Denise said as they approached the row of condominiums where most of the Wrightsville survivors lived. “I suppose, if you really wanted me to, I could hang at that City Hall.”

  “You could, could you? Well, it was fun having you around but I think Mr. Brock is probably missing you.”

  Denise smiled devilishly and said, “Yeah sure, if that’s the excuse you’re going to use to see Jim.”

  Nina shot the girl a stern look. Before that look could dissolve into a smile, Nina refocused on the road ahead.

  Brock met them at the condominium complex the ‘orphans’ called home. He wore a disapproving expression.

  “You should not have done that. We were worried sick about you.”

  “Hey, like, I’m old enough to take care of myself.”

  The young girl turned to face Nina before she went inside.

  “Um, yeah, well, see-ya.”

  “Hey,” Nina stopped her. “You want to get together again, you don’t have to stow away.”

  Denise tried to hide a smile as she turned around and disappeared inside.

  Jim and Nina stood on the sidewalk alone in silence for a moment. It took him that long to realize the woman had injuries.

  “Hey, you look all banged up.”

  “Gee, thanks, aren’t you the charmer?”

  “Well, I mean you look great. No, wait, I mean to say that looks like it hurts, but not in the ‘oh my God what happened to your face’ way.”

  Nina said, “We ran into a pretty nasty baddy today. Don’t worry, Denise wasn’t anywhere near it.”

  “No but she was near you. You should be honored. D’ isn’t the type to start hero-worshipping the first person who comes along with a gun and an attitude.”

  “I have an attitude?”

  Brock stumbled, “Well, um, I meant to say-”

  “Yeah,” Nina nodded. “I have an attitude.”

  The radio crackled, “HK teams, two Devilbats sighted in the northeast quad. Need assistance to track and kill. All units please respond.”

  Nina walked to the radio lying on the front seat of the Humvee.

  “This is Forest, I’m coming.”

  She sat in the driver’s seat and turned to Jim Brock. “I’ve got to get going. I’ve got a job to do.”

  Brock’s eyes sagged. “Yeah, sure, I know. But hey, thanks for bringing her back.”

  “I’d like to stop by and see her again. I kind of feel responsible for her now. Besides, she’s got some sharp instincts. Pretty good reflexes and all.”

  “She’s a good kid. They all are. Just, a bad break for them. For all of us, I suppose.”

  “Better get a taste for it, Mr. Brock, beause it’s the only world we’ve got these days.”

  “I’ll try. But speaking of tastes, do you have a taste for seafood?”

  “Huh?”

  He explained, “We eat a lot of seafood around here. I don’t know if you guys-I mean girls-I mean whatever-get much of that.”

  “When I’m not in the field, I live in Annapolis. We get a lot of crabs. Not a lot of regular fish though. Not for me at least.”

  “Then you should stop back when you get a chance. I know a good seafood place.”

  Nina smiled. “Do they take credit cards?”

  “Miss Forest-I mean, Captain Forest-I mean, Nina,” he stopped and sucked in a deep breath. “What I mean to say is, rescuing me and the kids from Mutants gives you good credit around here.”

  Nina shifted into gear.

  “I guess I’ll have to collect on that sooner or later.”

  15. Olive Branch

  “You told me, I remember, glory, built

  On selfish principles, is shame and guilt.”

  — William Cowper

  On August 27, as young Denise Cannon followed Nina Forest through the streets of Wilmington, Trevor stood in the first floor den staring out the French casement windows through eyes as sharp as lasers. Behind him stood Dante Jones and Gordon Knox. On the grounds in front of him, he saw a trio of Dobermans patrolling.

  “Tell me again how it is a guy can walk up to this window, tap on the damn glass, and then walk away without anyone seeing.”

  He pivoted about and locked those laser-eyes on Dante Jones.

  “Do you have an answer, Dante? Can you give me one good damn reason how this happened?”

  Dante swallowed. “Maybe we’re not dealing with a man here. Maybe-”

  “Is that the excuse? This is some sort of ghost? JB’s grandpa saw a man standing outside this window, a few feet from my son’s nose. He stood there and friggin’ waved at them for Christ’s sake!”

  “He slipped through. Want do you want me to say?”

  “If you can’t stop ONE man, how the HELL are you going to stop a Hivvan sniper or one of Voggoth’s assassins? Could you even stop the damn girl scouts from selling cookies at my front door? Could you? ANSWER ME!”

  Trevor stopped and waited, his breath heaved in and out. Dante stood with his shoulders shaking-just a little-and blood nearly coming from his bit lip.

  “I’m sorry, Trevor-”

  “Sorry doesn’t-”

  “-let ME finish. I’m sorry I got a dozen guys to guard the mansion instead of three times that number. I’m sorry the only time we have a helicopter around here is when you loan us one for a couple of hours from the military. I’m sorry I got guys out there trying to fight Jaw-Wolves with swords and Devilbats with. 22 caliber handguns. I’m sorry I can’t turn god damn water into god damn WINE!”

  “We’re all short on resources, Dante, but I don’t hear bitching from my Generals.”

  “Fine, then put one of them in charge of Internal Security. I never asked for this. You appointed me, remember? Like you appoint everybody else. There’s got to be an old Chief of Police somewhere who would want this job. Fire me and give the job to them.”

  Trevor pointed his finger
and said, “Not that easy, Dante. I’m not going to fire you. You need to step up and do the job.”

  Dante Jones eyed Trevor and spoke in a much softer voice, “And why won’t you fire me? Is it because you enjoy bitching me out? Is this your revenge for when we were kids and I bossed you around? Or maybe if you fired me, then you have to admit that you made a mistake appointing me in the first place. That would make people wonder about all your other appointees. How many mistakes are out there, Trevor?”

  Trevor’s face turned red but before he could explode Gordon Knox physically stepped between the men.

  “I think it’s safe to say we’ve covered the ground on this. Dante, I’ll see if I can steal some manpower from Intelligence to help you out around here for a few days. In the meantime, you did lift fingerprints from the glass, so see where that leads and let me know. Perhaps my people can access the FBI data banks down in Washington.”

  Dante held his eyes on Trevor for a moment longer before letting out a long exhale.

  “Yeah, okay. Fine. I’ll do that.”

  Jones snapped around and marched out. Knox watched him go and then gently shut the door.

  Trevor returned his eyes to the lawn and trees outside the window. He said, “The last thing I thought I’d ever hear you do is intervene on Dante’s behalf.”

  “He does raise an interesting question. Exactly why is Dante Jones in charge of Internal Security? His background isn’t a perfect fit.”

  “There weren’t exactly a lot of people to choose from that first year. Most of the guys with actual police training had to be converted to military men. Besides, Internal Security seemed like an easy job in the early days. One that I thought would be hard to screw up.”

  “I see.”

  “Dante has been a friend of mine since I was a kid. I know him. I can trust him, and I can trust his judgment.”

  “Trevor, it’s obvious that after the invasion you somehow or another managed to learn a lot of new skills. I’ve heard it said that you were a car salesman in the old world, but now you can shoot guns and fly helicopters. Most people aren’t that lucky. Dante Jones didn’t get some special gift just because aliens came here. Maybe you’re expecting too much. Most people are still just the same regular folks they were in the old days.”

  Trevor ignored Knox’s point and mumbled, “He might not have the background in security, but he’s got a good head. I just have to stay on him. I have to push him.”

  Knox remarked, “I’d say you push him quite a bit.”

  “So now you’re worried about Dante’s feelings?”

  “No, no, I have more important things to worry about.”

  Without turning, Trevor said, “Yes, I heard a report. The Hivvans are regrouping inside the pocket.”

  “I estimate we have a few days before they become a significant threat, but the fact is that supplies have started rolling in to the enemy forces inside the pocket. They have established small operating bases and are improving communications.”

  “How long?”

  “Not an exact science, Trevor, you know that.”

  “How long?”

  “Okay, you want a guess, I’ll give you one. Three or four days before things get iffy. If we’re lucky, we might have another week. That’s best case. By then they will be an effective fighting force capable of punching out of the pocket we’re putting them in.”

  Trevor finally turned around and faced Knox. He pinched the bridge of his nose and admitted, “Southern Command says we’re running out of aviation fuel and bombs. Pilots are exhausted and they are starting to catch some anti-air flak. We lost one plane to a mechanical failure yesterday and another to enemy fire, a couple more are out of action for lack of spare parts. I can count the number of operational planes in that area with one hand. I guess it’s all bad news today.”

  “No, Sir, not at all,” Knox’s voice picked up a notch. “We still have time. Take out the supply depots and the plan will still work. Stonewall should make it in time. He’s facing opposition in his sector but nothing he can’t get through to complete his mission.”

  “You know I know that,” Trevor responded and stared at Gordon Knox. “You can stop playing games, Gordon. You’re not here to talk about Stonewall.”

  Knox nodded his head. “Okay then. No games.”

  “What have your agents found out about New Winnabow?”

  “There are four council members, each one roughly representing a different quadrant of the town. They are elected. The four then elect a ‘Chief’ councilman and a Sergeant-at-Arms.”

  Trevor replied, “I know that. I also know they have about fifty armed militiamen on duty at any one time. They have security zones each with its own warning bell to summon reinforcements as needed. Armaments are limited to primarily shotguns, hunting rifles, and pistols. They keep a few Molotov cocktails around and their armory has additional weapons but nothing we would consider heavy.”

  “Ah yes, of course. Your K9s, no doubt.”

  Trevor did not answer. He did not need to tell Gordon how much Tyr had learned by merely roaming the town for a couple of hours.

  “So what can you tell me that I don’t already know?”

  Knox tried, “The Sergeant-At-Arms sets duty rosters and maintains control over the armory. Private citizens do not have firearms in their homes. Each councilman can call out additional militiamen on a few minutes notice. It’s similar to how the United States used to be with the National Guard; the Governors had to mobilize them for use in their states. Same thing here, but it’s the individual councilmen who are responsible.”

  “So…” Trevor led.

  “…so if you’re planning on occupying New Winnabow you’ll want to decapitate the council first. That would cut down casualties on both sides.”

  Trevor mulled that over.

  Of course…take out the council then send in the infantry…could probably do the whole thing without knocking over a building He slammed his fist onto the desktop. A pencil jumped and then rolled to the floor.

  “Why the hell am I even thinking about this? We’re talking about a living, thriving human settlement. We’re talking about people. I’ve been doing this all these years to save people, not kill them. Not take away their homes and lives!”

  Stone grunted in disgust. Disgust with himself. For a moment there, he planned a military strategy to use against human beings. Not Hivvans. Not The Order. Not Redcoats. Not Vikings.

  Human beings.

  Peaceful human beings.

  For all he knew, Parsons and New Winnabow could be right.

  That thought sent a shiver along his spine. Gordon noticed a change in Trevor’s demeanor.

  “What is it?”

  Trevor spoke in an almost trance-like state. “All these years…I’ve been looking for a deeper meaning to Armageddon. I know this is about more than taking our planet. It is about…something about subjugating mankind. What if Parsons and his council have the right idea? What if this is a test to see if man can live without violence? His people haven’t been attacked. Jesus Christ…what if I’m the bad guy?”

  “Sir,” Gordon interrupted Trevor. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I want an alternative route around New Winnabow.”

  “There is none and we’re running out of time. You have two options. The first is to push through New Winnabow some way or another. The second is to call off the pincer movement, pull 1 ^ st and 2 ^ nd Mech off the line and let the Hivvan Corp escape to Columbia.”

  “Those aren’t acceptable options.”

  “Damn it, Trevor,” Gordon snapped. “Do you know why I’m here? Do you know why I follow you?”

  Trevor did not answer; he just stared at Knox.

  “Because you do what has to be done. When I look at you- when we all look at you — we see a man who can see a future for humanity. We see a man who will stop at nothing to get there. We see a man who knows that, yes, we are in a situation where the ends justify the means. That ends
is the survival of our species.”

  “So I should kill the people in New Winnabow to save the rest of us?”

  “Yes!” Gordon nearly shouted. “If we are fortunate to win this war then in two hundred years our great grand children can second guess everything you did like they second guessed Truman for dropping the bomb. If we don’t win…it’s all over. There will be no one to pass judgment on you.”

  “If I destroy these people for the greater good, what will our grand children say of me?”

  Gordon narrowed his eyes, shook his head in the slightest, and with a combination frustration and awe, told him, “That’s why we follow you, Trevor. Because you don’t care what they will say. You know how important this is. You do whatever it takes. You’re not some slimy politician, you’re a leader.”

  Knox’s words sparked something in Trevor.

  “That’s it,” Trevor said. “A politician.”

  “What?”

  “Evan Godfrey. He has a silver tongue. He’s just the man I need for this.”

  Gordon smiled but not in humor.

  “You’re going to ask for his help? You’re willing to swallow your pride that much?”

  “You said it, Gordon. I’ll do whatever it takes. If I have to crawl on my belly and kiss Evan Godfrey’s boot I’ll do it, if he can get us through this town without bloodshed. Bring him to me. Now.”

  Evan Godfrey and Dante Jones stood in front of Trevor’s desk in the old Command Center on the second floor of the mansion.

  “You want me to what?” The shock in Godfrey’s voice carried out of the room and down the hall, practically through the entire house.

  “I want you to go there and convince them to let our army pass.”

  Evan glanced at Dante Jones then back to Trevor.

  “But I agree with the guy down there. He shouldn’t let you pass through. They’re a sovereign country. Besides, I don’t think we should be pushing this war so much. Take this as a sign and pull the troops back.”