Parallels

sent an icicle along Jon's spine. Once he understood Knox's full meaning, Jon raised a hand.

'Wow. Hey, whoa, easy there Gordon. If you’re suggesting what I think…'

'We have to toughen up or things are going to get worse. As it is, our offensive in Ohio has a black eye and a handful of Hivvans are still holding out in front of Prescott down south. Right now we look weak to our enemies, both external and internal.'

Jon jumped to his feet, partly as a physical manifestation of his agitation and partly because he wanted to escape that desk.

'So we knock off some trouble makers and you think things will be okay? We’re still leaderless.'

'No!' Gordon shouted a little too loud. He glanced to the floor and modulated his tone to something closer to normal. 'No. We’re not leaderless. You’re in charge now.'

'By whose authority? Who put me here? What sense does it make? Trevor was in charge because he started it all. We pledged our loyalty to him. But me? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Gordon, but I’m a little short on the divine right clause.'

Gordon decided to stand, too. He walked over to Brewer and the two men spoke in front of the glass doors of the mansion balcony. Beyond those doors was an overcast sky that threatened rain although snow was still a possibility on the tenth day of March. Underneath that overcast sky, just beyond the closed iron gate, lived a camp of protestors, activists, and lunatics. One guy actually held a sign reading, 'The End is Near.'

A ring of Internal Security tried their best to keep the group contained. On that day, the mob counted three dozen in their number, nearly double from a few days ago. Tomorrow?

Gordon snapped, 'Who do you want in charge, Jon? Most of the idiots who want to take over are preaching peace. They want to stop the war, lick our wounds, and live in isolation. They're making all sorts of noise out there in the press and at town hall meetings. But you know, I don't care so much about them. It's the ones we haven't heard from that have me on edge.'

Jon nodded in agreement and said, 'Yes. I’ve been thinking that, too.'

'So the question is,' Gordon finished the thought. 'Exactly why has Evan Godfrey been so quiet? What is he up to?'

– Sharon intercepted Evan at the front door of their mansion in the Washington D.C. suburbs.

'You’re going to play tennis?'

'Yes,' he answered as he zipped his gym bag with one hand and twirled a tennis racquet with the other. 'I’m going to play tennis.'

As happened often in recent weeks when she confronted him over his lack of action, Sharon's jaw dropped and her eyes bulged.

At first the words came out as little more than gasps, but her voice improved as she managed to swallow more oxygen. 'What is wrong with you? It's been weeks and you keep repeating that bull shit Jon Brewer and the military council keep throwing out about Trevor away on a secret mission. Every interview you give is about remaining calm and waiting for the Emperor to return. This is the opportunity we've waited for, and you're doing nothing!'

He stood there and listened to her rant while fiddling with the tennis racquet and nodding his head in agreement to her points.

'Have you heard the news, Evan? Just about every newspaper outside of Baltimore and even some of Trevor's hand-picked Governors are saying the Emperor is dead and Brewer is just covering it up. And where are you going? To the health club to play tennis?'

He quickly answered, 'Well, it's still too cold for the outdoor courts.'

She ignored his flippancy. 'I thought you were the voice of the opposition. Maybe you're just a second-rate politician after all. A Coward.'

Sharon’s eight year old son approached through the cavernous living room of the old mansion crunching an apple as he moved. Sharon swiveled around and glared. The boy retreated at nearly a gallop.

'You really should treat him with a little more respect,' Evan said to his pseudo-wife. 'He’s getting older now. He’s turning into a young man.'

'Don’t tell me how to treat my son. Tory is none of your business.'

'Ah, yes, sometimes I forget,' Evan put a hand on her shoulder. 'This is a business relationship. We have our rules and regulations. Tory’s stewardship is not in my contract.'

He gave her a peck on the forehead. Sharon stepped away, nearly shivering in anger.

'The problem, my husband, is that you aren’t living up to your end of the bargain. You have your cute little wife and her son, both victims of the Emperor’s cruelty. I go to your political rallies and smile. My child is a boy scout and excels in school. Why, you have yourself the perfect little family, don’t you?'

He flipped his racquet in the air and caught it. 'Why yes, Sharon, I have the perfect little family. Makes a great postcard.'

'And why are you not living up to your part of the bargain?' She jabbed a finger in his chest. 'You promised me, you were going to bring down the Emperor. You were going to-'

His smile evaporated and he placed a finger over her lips. Apparently he no longer found her tirade humorous.

'Oh, now, no Sharon. Careful. Careful. I have no intentions of ‘bringing down the Emperor.’ But I do have other intentions. You know that. That’s why you came to me, Sharon. You know where I’m going. It just so happens that to get there, well, to get there the structure of power in our new nation will have to change.'

In a more humble tone she said, 'You speak a good game, Evan, but you are short on action. Today- right now — the people are ready for a new leader. Trevor Stone is gone, yet you hesitate. Maybe I made a mistake in making our little arrangement.'

She stopped her speech with a grunt that said take that.

Evan waited to be sure she had finished. When she said nothing more, he spoke.

'Trevor Stone is gone? Sharon, oh Sharon, is he really gone? I don’t think we can be quite so sure of that yet. You see, I’ve known Trevor for a long time and there’s one thing I’ve learned; never underestimate him. It's quite possible that he’s in hiding waiting to see who moves against him. I would not put that past him. That's what I’d do.'

She looked as if she wanted to speak and he knew what she would say: You’re afraid.

Again held a finger to her lips.

'Before you say it, remember that your father underestimated Trevor Stone, and where did it get him? Hmm? No, I think it is best to move slowly, with caution. Let others be the first to storm the Bastille. If Stone is gone for good, then eventually the mob will need a leader. If he returns to clean house, then all those who would challenge him will be knocked from their perches. Well… almost all.'

'So you’re going to do nothing?'

'No,' he twirled his racquet again. 'I’m going to play tennis at the health club.'

She spat, 'Tennis.'

He paused at the front door and glanced out the window. His motorcade waited: a big armored limousine and two Internal Security escorts on hover bikes.

'Yes. I’m going to play tennis. Doubles in fact. Doubles with the Captain of the Washington garrison, one of Jim Hutch’s top men in the labor guild, and the Director of the company that services all the military’s telecommunications.'

Godfrey smiled to his wife then walked out the door.

He had a match to play.

– Stonewall McAllister pushed his steed at a fast, anxious gallop across an open field with a dozen riders from his command post following including Captain Kristy Kaufman, dressed in a stylish bomber jacket and riding boots.

She maneuvered her horse closer to his and shouted over the sound of drumming horse hooves, 'Still no contact from the depot, General!'

Kristy referred to the supply depot at Ft. Campbell. No one had heard from or received re-supply from the depot in over twenty-four hours.

Fortunately, Army Group Center had not encountered any enemy armies during their sweep of western Kentucky and Tennessee. Operations remained of a 'rural and urban pacification' nature, a job they had performed