After faltering at Erie Coast, Trevor wanted to re-organize and hit the Duass again. Instead, Director Snowe convinced Thebes' new Emperor to target the Chaktaw, who posed the larger threat; the Duass showed no signs of retaliating.
Then Trevor suggested he might find ways to improve supply and manufacturing, hinting that munitions and weapons-not his tactics-bore responsibility for the defeat.
Nina insisted his attention was best focused on training and planning. Eventually he agreed. In fact, he appreciated how everyone on this world tended to tell him what he wanted to hear, and took care of the details leaving him free to tackle the more interesting tasks.
With the coming of mid-March, the weather showed signs of changing. Temperatures remained cold at night, but not quite as cold. Drizzle replaced snow flurries and afternoon temperatures grew far more comfortable.
One additional benefit of the change came in the form of more daylight, a point he noticed riding home from the Operations Center one evening in twilight instead of pitch dark. The extra sun added to his sense of optimism.
Well, not optimism. A sense of opportunity. Yes, that was the better word. 'Optimism' did not describe any of Trevor’s moods or attitudes any more. In fact, he exchanged happiness, contentment, and satisfaction for enthusiasm, aggressiveness, and determination.
In any case, the longer days told Trevor that the opportunity for expansion approached. Soon he would launch a proper offensive, one meant to acquire territory.
Despite what Nina and Snowe thought, Trevor remained convinced he could find more survivors. His experiences on that other world taught him about the resilience of humanity.
Stone’s taxi halted at his skyscraper hostel. He stepped out of the car as did the two bodyguards Snowe had selected to keep Trevor safe or, more likely, to keep watch on him.
Whether Snowe would prove to be a long-term friend or a short-term ally of convenience would depend on the Director's attitude.
The car sped away. Trevor took a moment to crane his neck up at the tall, green structure stretching toward gray clouds where a few streaks of dying, orange sun flickered.
Home.
'Trevor.'
The voice came from a slender figure in technician’s coveralls. She wore a cap and a light windbreaker. Even from a distance, Trevor understood he should recognize her.
'It’s okay,' he warded off his bodyguards with a wave.
Hmm…is that Jolene? It’d be nice to see her again.
'Yes, I’m Trevor. Do I know you?'
The woman removed her cap revealing dark hair.
He moved closer to see her more clearly. A sharp jolt of fear shot along his spine. His legs wobbled, his heart pounded, and he stumbled back a step.
Ashley.
In that first split second of recognition, his mind screamed she came across dimensions to find me! And I’m not going back!
In the next moment, he regained control, realizing that this Ashley wore shorter hair and a scar. These markings meant she came from this world, not the one he had left behind.
'You know me,' she said. 'Maybe not here. Do you remember who I am?'
'You…you’re Ashley Trump. I once knew someone…someone like you.'
He noticed her trembling yet noticed something else, too: determination. Obviously this confrontation scared her a great deal, too, but she found the strength to see it through.
She held a small package to him. He retreated again.
'Reverend Johnny told me about your life at home, and they killed him.'
'This…this is my home,' the guards stepped to either flank of their charge as they realized Trevor wanted no more of this woman’s company.
'No. Your home, Trevor. Where you have a wife and a son. Do you remember them?'
'Stop it. Shut up.'
The guards grabbed for the woman. She avoided them long enough to shove her package in Trevor’s stomach, he had not choice but to clutch it.
'For your son, Trevor! For your son!'
He alternated his eyes from the package to the woman his guards pushed away.
Get her out of here! Get her away!
Then he hurried into the hostel. A moment later-after they had successful warded off the specter that had come to haunt the Emperor-the guards joined him inside. Trevor moved through the lobby then to the elevator then to his penthouse in an emotionless, zombie-like gait.
Both guards followed him inside and then he slammed the door shut behind, bolting it.
Get a hold of yourself, Emperor.
While the bodyguards made themselves comfortable in the living room with a deck of cards and a pitcher of beer (or what passed for beer in Thebes), Trevor went into the bedroom and sat on the mattress, staring at the small wrapped box Ashley's doppelganger had shoved into his hands. He eyed it warily, as if it might be a bomb.
Afraid, Emperor? A tiny little box scares you?
As if to prove his courage, Trevor tore into the paper wrapping and opened the cardboard box inside. He found a key card and a slip of paper with a message.
One dash one, industrial sector.
See what your friend saw. Go alone.
Do it for your son.
A memory burst into his head so hard and so clear that he raised a hand to his temple.
'Father, could you promise me that while you’re gone you’ll think of me every day.'
'Oh, Jorgie, I think of you every day anyway. You know that. But yes, I promise.'
When was the last time he thought about his son?
You broke your promise.
'Stop it!' Trevor shouted.
One of the guards hurried to the bedroom.
'Sir? You okay?'
Trevor stood, pushed aside the guard, and hurried into the living room.
'Sir? You okay?' This time the question came from both men.
'I’m fine,' he said even though he trembled. 'You men stay here.'
'Um, sir, our orders are to stick with you everywhere.'
'Oh?' His head cocked. 'Whose orders?'
'Director Snowe's…um, sir.'
'And who gives Snowe his orders? Who?'
The other guard spoke fast, apparently worried the wrong answer might mean getting thrown out the penthouse window.
'That would be you, sir.'
'Good. Don’t forget that. It’s important you don’t forget that, understand?'
He grabbed a jacket, slipped it over his battle suit, and headed for the elevator. His hands fidgeted as he moved. Part of him screamed that he should burn the note and throw away the key card and forget he had ever seen the phantom of Ashley Trump in this universe.
Once he reached the lobby he told the guard there, 'I need ground transportation.'
'Yes, sir. To where?'
Trevor snarled, 'None of your damn business!'
The sentry gulped and meekly pointed out, 'Sir, I, um, need to have a general idea so I can hand the job off to the appropriate transportation hub.'
Stone huffed, 'Okay. I need a ride to the…to the industrial sector,' Stone studied the man’s reaction. As far as
