remaining in control; on maintaining the front of the elegant, proud first lady no matter how empty and alone she felt inside.
She climbed the stairs keeping her eyes forward. Her son followed.
The staff stared at her, surprised to see her return and amazed at the dignity she projected; not realizing how much strength she burned to project that image over a bleeding heart…
…Dante Jones stood on the White House roof gazing off at the Washington skyline. He did not know exactly why he came there each time the President held one of his press conferences. He also knew that this time he would be forced to leave his perch and stand alongside Godfrey, flashing smiles and shaking hands to show how splendidly they all got along.
He peeked over the side and saw the gathering reporters that seemed more a gathering storm. Evan stood at the podium with his eyes locked on a binder while ignoring sporadic questions. Apparently the President had walked in on an unexpected hornets nest.
Dante sympathized. At least Godfrey could block out the questions and the doubt with his politician's armor of arrogance. He wondered if Evan ever regretted anything.
Yet no matter what doubts bubbled in Jones' belly, he knew he had cast his lot. There could be no turning back. He could never undo what he had done, no matter how badly he wished he had not chosen so poorly.
The sound of an approaching transport diverted Dante's introspection. The sight of a landing Eagle did not surprise him, several such transports and helicopters had arrived and departed today. He wondered if it might do him some good to go downstairs and mingle with old friends. Or would facing those people only make his guilt more acute?
The Eagle flew in toward the northeast gate and descended.
A voice crackled from the radio attached to the holster strap around Dante's waist.
Tucker sounded somewhat unnerved, 'I've got a transport landing over here, and you will not believe its call sign.'
Far below Dante's rooftop perch, Ray Roos hustled through the West Wing in a fast walk with his sport jacket fluttering behind like bat wings. He replied on his radio, 'I'm on it…'
…Inside the passenger compartment of Eagle One stood a rack of weapons. One shelf offered a plasma rifle captured from the Platypus-like aliens known as the Duass, another presented a Colt M-4, Trevor's weapon of choice.
But he chose another weapon for the day's work. A weapon on the top rung of the rack: a shiny Civil War era sword once wielded by Stonewall McAllister and bequeathed to the Emperor in that man's dying breathe.
An angry hand took hold of the blade, swiveled about, and opened the port side door. In rushed a blast of sunshine.
Trevor jumped from the compartment onto a makeshift receiving line complete with red carpet. To one side stood a small gathering of military officers. He noticed Cassy Simms and Benny Duda, as well as General Phillip Rhodes, Captain Carl Dunston, and others. In turn they saw a thin man with hair longer than they remembered, razor stubble on his cheeks, and energy-the energy of rage-radiating from his eyes.
Trevor ignored their gasps and shouts, keeping his attention straight forward as he stepped toward the entrance to the White House. In his way stood the short gray haired I.S. agent named Tucker.
Whether Tucker was too shocked to act or cowed into obedience did not matter; Trevor recognized the traitor's face. The sword drove into the man's belly, spearing him straight through. Tyr's killer crumbled over. Trevor yanked the blade free and the dead body fell to the ground.
The audience of guards and soldiers and officers dared not intervene. They could not be sure…did they see an enraged ghost or a crazed murderer? Whatever the truth, they sensed that any force standing in the way would be swept aside.
Trevor entered the East Room, passing buffet tables and shocked servers. The crowd hushed. A tray dropped. A Senator screamed.
The vengeful demon left the reception area and moved into the long Cross Hall where a colonnade separated that corridor from the large Entrance Hall. Ray Roos-on the opposite end of the hallway-stopped. Trevor marched forward. Roos pulled an automatic pistol from beneath his sport jacket. Trevor dodged out of view between columns.
Roos stepped fast to the other side of the colonnade just in time to see Trevor-still moving forward-weave back again like a skier slaloming between flags. Again Roos followed; again not fast enough to fire but fast enough to see Trevor slip to the far side. He jumped back again, this time with his gun raised in his right hand. But no sign of Trevor. Roos darted back. Something flashed in front of his eyes and he stood nose to nose with Trevor Stone. Roos did not hesitate. He pulled the trigger on his gun at point blank range…but nothing happened.
Misfire?
Ray Roos glanced at his hand holding the gun and saw it lying on the floor in a puddle of red, detached from his arm at the wrist. He raised the stump and examined it with wide, child-like eyes.
'Well looky here…'
Trevor's sword swung again, sending Roos' head rolling across the red carpet…
…General Tom Prescott followed his aide through the front door of what had been the Long Beach Museum but now served as 2 ^ nd Corp's Signals and Communication station. He had been pulled from a meeting with community leaders by a message from General Bobby Bogart, one time assistant to General Shepherd but now the commanding officer of the Pennsylvania 1 ^ st Armored Division.
Meetings with community leaders were vital, especially now that attitudes toward The Empire, or nation, or whatever they were those days, finally started to show signs of change in California.
This particular meeting with the locals meant to win help in rooting out a handful of hit-and-run bandits sniping check points and harassing convoys. What a pity that meeting went unfinished. Bogart's summons better be good.
Prescott hurried through the building passing tables of electronic equipment some of which linked to portable radar stations along the beach and others to a series of sonar buoys dropped off shore: a sort of makeshift west coast tambourine line.
Bogart-easily identifiable by his big Lebanese nose-waited at the rear of the building near a glass door leading to a beachside patio.
'Pardon my French, but what the heck is it, Bobby?'
Bogart answered in a voice bordering on panicked, 'We've got contacts.'
Technicians seated at monitoring stations shouted, 'Five Hundred Yards and closing,' and 'Multiple contacts' and 'Airborne! Repeat I've got radar contacts in the sky.'
Prescott hurried onto the patio with Bogart a step behind. A swift sandy breeze blew across the empty space there.
The General raised a set of field glasses. The hands holding the binoculars trembled.
He saw shapes climbing the horizon and closing on the shore line illuminated by a low-hanging sun. They seemed to be animals of a kind, born from some perverted nightmare. As they neared, they made a sound. A beastly groan from a chorus of damned creatures. Of war machines.
Of Voggoth's children.
'Oh my God…'
…Ashley reached the top of the stairs and stepped through the open doorway to Trevor's old office; the office that would be his once more. Her return to the mansion meant its rebirth. Once again that lakeside estate would become the epicenter of humanity's survival. Once again armies would march to war commanded from that place, led by an Emperor but one more focused, committed, and-yes-more barbaric than ever.
Her husband, she knew, served a mission. Just as she did. But as she slipped inside the office and stepped to the side against the wall, she let the front fall. Ashley leaned there next to the office door and raised a hand over her eyes.
JB hovered just outside the door hearing a sound he had refused to hear before; his mother's cry of loneliness…
…The string unknotted with a gentle pull; the brown wrapper peeled away in strips, leaving Nina holding a small box with a blue lid. No emblem. No markings. Her hands quivered. Payment for her services had finally arrived from Ashley. Feelings rippled through her; an ache in her belly; a hunger in hear heart. The answers came in the
