Beyond Armageddon IV: Schism

by DeCosmo, Anthony

  Dante chewed on his thumbnail and stared out a window.

  "Anyway, boss, that should be taken care of by the end of the week," Roos continued to aggravate the situation. "Seein' as to all the threats and stuff we've been getting against the Stones, I figure it's best for security reasons."

  "Oh look at all the people," Sharon exclaimed as the formation of choppers flew over the marketplace on the Ellipse.

  "Okay then," Godfrey adjusted his tie. "Now listen, we want smiles on everyone's face. Not big smiles because this is still a solemn day, but expressions of content and confidence."

  Dante did not respond. Roos looked to his boss and smiled a big, man-eating grin.

  "Okay Ray," Evan conceded. "Maybe you shouldn't worry about smiling."

  Marine One descended to the south lawn while the escorts circled and then flew off. The big blades of the heavy helicopter created a small whirlwind rippling over the lines of press filming and photographing the arrival of the new President and his entourage. Internal Security officers dressed in policemen's garb stood alert both across the grounds and on the roof of the White House. Doberman Pinscher K9s with spiked silver collars sat rigidly among the building's pillars and entryways.

  Evan Godfrey emerged from the helicopter and crossed the lawn toward his new home with his wife at his side and his closest associates trailing behind. That evening's news broadcasts would describe his gait as 'self-assured' and that Mr. Godfrey appeared 'at ease in his new role', exactly 'what the people needed in these turbulent times.'

  Questions came from the press. He picked only one to respond to.

  "How do you feel, Mr. President?"

  "Like it's morning in America."

  ---

  The flurry of activity that began that morning with Evan's arrival continued for hours with press conferences and ceremony after ceremony. At last the media ran off to catch early suppers and file reports, taking advantage of a few hours respite before the inaugural reception scheduled for later that night.

  Godfrey planned to change into a tuxedo and write a speech for the night's activities. However, Sharon had taken a bottle of something bubbly with her upstairs, suggesting the time had come to break in the Lincoln bedroom. Based on Sharon's disposition, he guessed they'd be breaking in just about every room in the White House. Evan wondered what would occupy his wife's time after the excitement of her victory over Trevor Stone dissipated. She might, in fact, become a problem.

  Problems of other kinds occupied Evan's mind as he walked the red carpet along the Cross Hall on the first floor of the White House with Ray and Dante. With the press gone, only security and Evan's trusted associates remained in the building. That would change in a few hours, giving him a small window to address a few things that needed addressing.

  Evan spoke to Dante first, "This is for you," he stopped and handed Jones an open envelope filled with a paper receipt and a key. "It's a little vacation for you, my friend. After all you've been through I figure you deserve it."

  Dante read the receipt aloud, "Bryce Resorts. What's this?"

  "You did well, but I know you feel bothered by all this. I won't go into that because we've been over it a hundred times. This is my way of saying thank you. Get away for a couple of days. I hear the Chrysaor is at the Pittsburgh shipyards this week for repair."

  Dante's eyes grew wide.

  "It's okay. Most people know you and Captain Kaufman have had an on and off type thing ever since that reconnaissance mission to Binghamton that first year. Take her to this place. It's the only high-class resort operating these days. Go horseback riding, get a massage, and enjoy some fine dining. It's all taken care. You deserve it."

  Dante returned his attention to the receipt. "I don't know what to say."

  "Then don’t say anything. Dante. I can't tell you that you're ever going get over this, but you did the right thing. In the long run, you will see this to be true. Now go, enjoy yourself, there's nothing going on here that can't wait for a couple of days."

  Dante hesitated then, after a second, found a small smile. He shook Evan's hand and walked off in search of ground transportation.

  When he left earshot, Roos asked, "Is he going to be a problem?"

  "Huh? Oh, Dante? No. He thinks of himself as an idealist. He'll survive for a while telling himself what a great sacrifice he made for the greater good, he may even enjoy a certain amount of self-loathing for a time. Of course, some day he might just realize the truth about it, but until then he'll be easy enough to control. Dante has cast his lot; there's no turning back for him."

  "And you and I? Why'd we do it?"

  "You did it for yourself, Ray. You knew someday I'd get here. What did you say that time? Oh yes, I'm the 'horse you backed'. You're an opportunist. But that's okay because that's the American way. Self-interest is a powerful thing."

  "Hmmm, you're the idealist then, is that it? Yes, well, I guess you know that already. I just hope you're right about Dante not becoming a problem. He seems a bit shaky to me."

  "Don't worry about him," they walked again, passing marble pillars as he and Ray traversed the rich red carpet. "We have other things to worry about. First off, what about Gannon? It's been over three weeks. When is he getting back out there to check in on things?"

  Roos shook his head, "Can't do it yet, not with the Tambourine line going full steam. No sir, we've already messed with that once, can't risk it again."

  "Well, we're going to deal with that. Dante already processed orders to turn over two of the Stingrays to Internal Security for border patrol and testing."

  "You don’t say? And Brewer didn't get himself all tied up on that?"

  "Nope. Didn't even raise an eyebrow. I don't think General Brewer is even on the radarscope right now. He's pretty much back at the estate pushing papers and thanking God he isn't the one in charge. Without Stone, Brewer is fluttering in the wind. We'll keep him and his wife busy with some pet projects here and there while I get settled in. Now, where's our guest?"

  "West Wing."

  Evan increased his pace and, with Roos in tow, made his way through the grand mansion toward the west wing. Two I.S. guards and their charge waited in the lobby there. Evan quickly dismissed the escort and addressed Chancellor D'Trayne directly.

  "Chancellor, I'm so happy you could be here on my first day in the White House."

  "Senator—I mean, Mr. President--congratulations on your victory. I hope now that you will follow through on your end of the agreement."

  "I believe I already have, Chancellor, in regards to my predecessor. I trust your friends are satisfied?"

  D'Trayne--coated in silver cosmetic--answered, "Yes, Mr. President, although I believe Mr. Gannon is serving as the liaison in that regards. As for my people—"

  "As for your people, I need to ask a little more of you. However, if all goes as I envision, you will be able to remain here and in a much more…much more satisfying capacity."

  The Chancellor's eyes turned lime green.

  "What is it you require now, Evan?"

  "There are loose ends to be tied, Chancellor. It would be wise to anticipate some bumps along the road, too. Ray, here, will be my point man on smoothing things out, but we could use a few of your officers on board. You know, the kind willing to sacrifice for the greater good."

  D'Trayne reluctantly nodded. "Witiko who could be characterized as outlaws or acting autonomously if their activities were discovered. I can provide the names of several such Witiko currently in your custody who will do as instructed and accept responsibility if discovered."

  "Good," Evan smiled. "Two of your Stingray cruisers are being transferred to I.S. Then Ray is going to put together a small team of trustworthy associates."

  "I'll need some of your boys as back up. Just in case, you see?"

  "Yes, I see," the Chancellor said. "And I appreciate your thoroughness."

  "Good. Ray, what's our time frame on this?"

  "I'm thinking in two or three days; Wedne
sday or Thursday."

  "Fantastic," Evan beamed. "Why don't you run along and see to it, then. I have a few things to go over with our guest, you understand."

  "Oh, you know me, Mr. President. I'm just a little cog in a big machine."

  The Director of Internal Security left Evan alone with the alien leader. The President motioned forward with his arm and the two made their way toward the oval office.

  "Thank you, D'Trayne. Together we can finish this up nicely and move on."

  "I can be of greater assistance if my people were granted access to the artifact you call the ‘runes.’ I insist that this take top priority."

  Evan stopped fast causing D’Trayne to continue three paces before realizing he walked alone. The Witiko leader’s eyes glimmered a darker shade of green.

  The President smiled but not in a friendly way.

  "There are a few issues we must address. The most important being this…" Evan’s eyes narrowed. A subtle growl lingered behind his words. "…make no mistake, Chancellor, I am not your puppet. I am the President of what will soon be the reborn United States of America."

  The Chancellor blinked bashfully and his eyes morphed to a gentle, soothing yellow.

  "Of course, Mr. President. I did not mean to--"

  "Trevor Stone was right about a couple of things. He was right that the Witiko pulled all the strings in California, that Malloy was nothing but a figurehead. He was also right about something else. He was right that you only sued for peace because the gateways were shut off."

  D’Trayne held a pleasant expression but his eyes flashed red.

  Evan spoke with the calm strength of a poker player holding all the cards.

  "I’m calling the shots, Chancellor. You work for me, understand? If you don’t, then I’m sure the military would be happy to complete purging your kind from this planet. Most of your troops are already gone. I’ve got a feeling—call it a hunch—that the folks on your home world won’t be so thrilled to see you come back. I have a feeling you’ve got a stake in staying here."

  D’Trayne’s eyes nearly burned from their sockets. His arms fidgeted. His mouth worked as if to speak…then clamped shut. The red pupils lost some of their glow; a little.

  Evan said, "Yes, good, that’s right. The sooner you accept that, the better. Because I can use you, Chancellor. You and I can get some things done. But everyone has to know their place. That’s how you ran California, wasn’t it? Everyone had a place."

  The Witiko leader licked his silver-coated lips and answered in a calm, resolved voice, "We have always believed in a ruling class."

  "Very good, yes, me too."

  Evan’s assertion puzzled D’Trayne. "But you speak of this democracy; of the rights of every person. Do you hide your true feelings on this?"

  Evan shared his vision of democracy: "Oh, Chancellor, you may be hot stuff back on your world, but your style wouldn’t last a day here in America. Sooner or later the rabble in California was going to rise up and kick you and Governor Malloy out."

  D’Trayne snapped, "The people of California accepted their place."

  "Really? Is that why garrisons switched sides once Trevor invaded? Is that why people working on your stealth field generator project slipped us all the info we needed to take it out so fast? No, Chancellor, the people of California accepted their place for a short time, but eventually they would have tossed you out on your silver ass."

  D’Trayne’s voice trembled in the slightest, struggling to remain calm as he said, "You speak in riddles, President Godfrey. What is it you are trying to say?"

  Evan enthusiastically embraced the opportunity to teach.

  "Democracy is a wonderful thing when it’s managed properly. You must give the people the freedom to vote in or vote out whomever they wish. They must be completely vested in the system for only then will they accept the results of that system."

  "I see. So you paint an illusion of democracy and then control it. A deception, it is?"

  Evan laughed at the Chancellor’s failure to comprehend.

  "No, no. There is no illusion. No deception. Real freedom. Real opportunity for all."

  The alien shook his head in both confusion and frustration.

  "But you said you believed in a ruling class. Your riddles are no clearer."

  "The cream rises to the top, Chancellor. Democracy is like a free market economy. Intelligence and money slowly but surely separate the ruling class from the masses."

  "Money? You buy elections?"

  Evan threw an arm around the taller Chancellor and they walked again.

  "Sort of. You buy marketing and public relations. You fine tune your message. You poll the people to get inside their heads. Along the way the best and brightest rise to the top, not because of deception or illusion but because they reach the people, earn their votes, and do what’s best for them even if those same people don’t know what’s best for them."

  "I see."

  "No, you don’t. But that’s okay. You just have to do what I need you to do."

  Evan led the Chancellor into the Oval Office. The new President had spent an hour there earlier posing for photos and greeting VIPs. Now, with everyone gone, he could truly take possession of the office; to make it his.

  An American flag stood in one corner next to a black and silver flag depicting a hand holding a musket, one of the many icons of The Empire and a necessary prop for the photographers, but he knew that flag would not remain much longer.

  A pair of Doberman Pinchers stood sentry just inside the door to the office. The President stopped, eyed the two canines, and then ordered, "Get. Get out now. Go."

  The confused dogs wavered for a moment before trotting into the reception area. Evan closed the door and circled to his desk. He faced the windows there and gazed out at sunset over the south lawn. He saw much more than the grounds of the White House; he saw the nation he had gained possession of.

  "What is it you need me to do, Mr. President?"

  "Ah, yes. Well, it’s not just for me, it’s for both of us. We share a common problem."

  "And that is..?"

  "The Imperial Military, of course. The war mentality Trevor spent so much time instilling in the people remains, despite how wary of fighting the average person is."

  "Mr. Stone, it seems, was a great leader."

  Evan pivoted fast and lost his composure for two quick seconds before realizing D’Trayne had baited him.

  "No! He was full of ego and self-importance. He would do anything to hang on to power! He knew nothing of leadership, only how to wage war."

  D’Trayne smiled in the slightest. His pupils flickered green.

  Evan turned the tables on the Witiko: "Let us speak honestly, Chancellor. The Imperial military handed you your collective asses with only three dreadnoughts. I am no fool, D’Trayne. I know there are powers out there guiding this invasion. I know how desperately the aliens who are here want to stay here. Like I said, I think this was a one-way ticket for all of you. I think you don’t want to go home because going home would not be good for your career or your life. Whether you face dishonor or death is no concern to me, but I believe the other alien races are in the same situation."

  D’Trayne said nothing.

  "Imagine, now, a dozen dreadnoughts, or more. That’s what the military wants, you know. And there will be pilots to fly them and crews to man them because our military academies are overflowing with volunteers. Every day that passes our engineers adapt more alien technology for our uses and our economy grows more diverse and powerful."

  "And now you command those armies, Evan. I thought you were against the war."

  "I look at the map and I see our armies on the west coast, the cities of the north occupied and fortified, and an early-warning detection system along the Atlantic. With the Centurian base in Mexico destroyed, so to speak, the south is secure for the foreseeable future. I see a nation with strong borders and armies capable of defending those borders. America is one nation agai
n." Evan reconsidered and waved a dismissive hand. "Except, of course, for Hawaii and Alaska, but that’s splitting hairs."

  D’Trayne asked, "So why is the military my problem and yours?"

  Godfrey glided over to an antique globe in the corner and gave it a spin.

  "It’s your problem because that military is now capable of projecting power far beyond our borders. I’m sure you heard that General Brewer took the Excalibur to South America last year. What’s to stop the military from sending a fleet of dreadnoughts across the Atlantic or the Pacific or over the North Pole into Russia or China? They could drop an armored division in…" he peered at the globe, "…Siberia or run a massive, sustained air campaign into west Africa."

  "Perhaps you over estimate your capabilities," D’Trayne sneered.

  "Perhaps. But do you think the military knows its limitations? No, D’Trayne, there are too many Generals who savor the idea of fighting for every square inch of this planet. Tell me now, do the other alien races look forward to facing dreadnoughts and gunships?"

  When D’Trayne did not respond, Evan answered for him, "No, of course not."

  "How is your own military a problem for you, Mr. President?"

  "I told you that the cream rises to the top in democracy. With a well-tuned message, a good campaign, and the proper amount of spending, the right people eventually earn their way into positions of authority. This, of course, is good for everyone. But war changes that, Chancellor. The people rally around flags and bravado, instead of reason and ideals."

  "Are you saying, Mr. President, that the people see through the political campaigns when they feel more important issues call?"

  Evan gnashed his teeth and responded, "I’m saying that the masses can be distracted. Their blood boils. They make short term decisions and lose sight of the common good."