“The question is, what are we calling ourselves?”
“Huh?”
Lori rephrased, “What do I put on my letterhead? What are we? Who are we? There are only so many times you can say ‘the community’ or ‘mankind’s new nation’ or whatnot. Are we a country? A city? Are we Trevor’s great nation of wonderful folks?”
“I see,” Trevor came to understand the question.
“We’re Americans,” Jon Brewer said.
Trevor thought of the thousands of ‘foreigners’ who were a part of the effort; visitors and tourists in the United States when Armageddon struck. Many served in his military, shedding their blood not for ‘America‘ but for mankind.
“No, that’s not right,” Trevor said. “We have people fighting and dying for the cause who weren’t American citizens. We have to discard those old boundaries.”
A variety of suggestions bounced around the room
“Human Nation.”
“The Coalition for Earth!”
“Trevor’s Posse!”
“Shut up, Dante.”
The suggestions whittled away to silence.
“Well, there is something that has been tossed around in a newspaper,” Dante suggested coyly. He apparently knew damn well which newspaper tossed it.
“Oh?” Trevor looked to him.
“Empire,” Dante set the stage for another argument. “I think it was, Trevor’s personal Empire.”
“I see,” Trevor ran a hand over his eyes as he realized where that one came from.
Evan Godfrey-the man who wrote that particular newspaper article-said softly, “All of the good ones were taken.”
“What’s that?” Brewer asked as he shot Evan a sharp glance.
“I said, all of the good empire names were taken,” Evan slid away his chair and stood as his angry enthusiasm bubbled to the surface again. “You know…Roman, Ottoman, Galactic. All of the good Empire names are taken, so I had to wing it. But it sounded about right. That’s what this is, isn’t it? Trevor’s personal empire.”
Jon Brewer stood, too. “Sometimes I think you should just shut up.”
“That’s what you want to do, isn’t it?” Evan fired. “Shut me up. Stop that guy from talking about freedom and elections and rights. We don’t want to listen to him. He just keeps on screwing around with this good thing we’ve got going.”
“You sorry piece of shit,” Brewer growled.
Trevor held a hand aloft, stopping Jon’s counter attack but both men remained standing at opposite ends of the table, red-faced and angry.
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Trevor said calmly. “You would just love it if we shut down your newspaper, maybe threw you in jail or stripped you of your position.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“And there you go. Throwing down the gauntlet. Drawing a line and daring me to cross because you want me to cross it. You want me to find you more than just an annoyance. You want me to give you credibility. Shut you down and you become some sort of modern day Thomas Paine, right? The voice so dangerous Trevor had to silence him. Well, I’m not going to do it, Evan. You go on, publish your newspaper and try and convince people that I’m some evil dictator who’s doing all this for personal power.”
“My mistake,” Evan sneered from his soapbox. “You were picked by destiny, isn’t that the story? The Gods chose Trevor Stone.
Oh, I’ve heard the stories about you and your trips into the woods. I’m not buying it. The Egyptians thought their pharaohs were Gods. The Kings of Europe justified their absolute power by claiming divine right. All I see is a man, and no man should have the power you have. The power must ultimately be with the people. If you were really a great leader, you’d see that. You would set up elections. Then you’d dare to run to see if your peasants really do adore you.”
Dante Jones quipped from the sidelines, “Wow, Evan, just think of the campaign you could run. You could buy TV commercials, have a convention, and make neat bumper stickers. Man, that would be fun! Hey, I’ll put a sign in my yard for you. It’ll be like old times.”
Lori Brewer’s tongue let fly, “Hey asshole, maybe you haven’t been paying attention but the world is a little different now. And you know what, it’s better. All the politicians and lawyers and accountants are gone.”
“Better for you,” Evan said. “You know most of the leaders of the Nazi party were nobodies before they had Hitler. Then they got to wear those nifty arm bands.”
“Why don’t you pack your bags and get out of here then?” Jon Brewer said through clenched teeth, clearly inferring that he would be happy to carry Evan by the scruff of his neck to the border and give him a swift kick toward Hivvan lines.
Evan stopped as the weight of so many angry faces bore down on his speech. He glanced around the table, shook his head, and as he sat in his seat again he muttered, “Like I said, Empire.”
The silence remained unbroken for several long seconds until Trevor-his chin resting in his hand propped on the table-said, “I like it. Empire. It has a ring.”
Evan’s eyes grew wide; incredulous that Trevor took the mockery he created in a newspaper column and embraced it.
“It’s aggressive, and I plan to be aggressive. It has a sound of inevitability to it, as if it encompasses everything. I think our people will take a comfort in that name for now because it implies strength. For the same reason, our enemies will tremble at the sound of the words.”
Jon Brewer asked, “So, what, like the American Empire or something?”
“No, no,” Trevor shook his head. “This doesn’t have anything to do with America or Canada or France or Norway or any of them. The countries are gone now. We just happen to be in this part of the world. Just Empire. The Empire. As if every other empire that came before was something less.”
Evan said, “I guess that makes you the Emperor. Someone get this man a crown and a cape and some tapestries to walk on.”
“You go on printing your paper, Evan. Tell your side of the story,” Trevor leaned forward for emphasis. His eyes narrowed and he warned his adversary, “But Evan, if you ever print anything that gives away future operations, or costs the lives of our soldiers…”
“I’d never do that,” Godfrey snapped. “That’s right, dismiss me as a traitor. Tell yourselves that I’m not a patriot. Point your finger at me and call me that pain in the ass who doesn’t know what he’s talking about. History will show that I was the biggest patriot of them all. I will fight when I have to, but I will not blindly follow, particularly not a despot who sees himself as some divine emissary.”
“Yes,” Trevor said. “History will judge us all. If we survive in order to make history. Speaking of history, this meeting of the full council is adjourned. Members of the military council will stay behind. Thank you, everyone, for your input.”
Evan, Eva Rheimmer, and Dr. Maple stood, gathered their papers, and made their way to the stairs.
Reverend Johnny, Jon and Lori Brewer, Dante Jones, Omar and Anita Nehru, Gordon Knox and Brett Stanton remained. Had it not been for the strategic situation, Generals Shepherd, Prescott, Stonewall McAllister, and William Hoth would have been present, too but they were occupied with operations of varying natures.
Lori Brewer said to Trevor, “You went with the whole ‘Empire’ thing just to piss off Evan, didn’t you?”
Trevor scratched his chin. “Maybe a little. But, honestly, it makes as good a sense as anything. You know me, I like to keep things simple. If we need to change it down the road, we’ll change it.”
Dante Jones protested, “We should change it now, before it gets started. I was just kidding around when I said it. Truth is, every empire I can think of has been on the bad side of things. I know you want something that sounds kick-ass, but people are going to think of the wrong things when they hear ‘empire’.”
“The Romans weren’t so bad,” Trevor mused.
Dante countered, “I wonder what Brutus would say about that.”
