Evan raised his hands and assured, 'We're working on that. This is going to take time, people. The first order of business is to stabilize the government then we will begin work on all the nuances that will turn us into a full- fledged democracy. Now, I think that ends today's announcement. More information will be forthcoming over the next few weeks. We ask the public to bear with us and have patience. I promise you, everything will work out just fine.'
– Omar Nehru originally started tinkering with alien gadgets during the first year of the invasion using a lakeside garage as a laboratory. With the expansion of his department and the constant influx of captured extraterrestrial gear, his operation ballooned. In fact, Omar Nehru's Science and Technology Division operated dozens of locations including test ranges in South Dakota and Tennessee, warehouses in each of the liberated states including a temporary facility in northern California to catalog all the Witiko devices, and auxiliary units for theoretical studies attached to four of the Empire's thirteen functioning universities.
Nonetheless, Omar maintained his lakeside garage. He and a small staff used it to handle special projects or personal work for members of the council.
While Evan and Jon Brewer finished their press conference to announce what Gordon Knox thought to be the worst decision since the Bay of Pigs, the Director of Intelligence paid a visit to Omar's personal laboratory.
Mr. Nehru sat at a work bench wearing a pair of safety goggles, dressed in a white lab coat and-of course- smoking a cigarette. Omar wore something else that day; something he had been wearing often since receiving one vote during the council meeting last week: a smile.
'Hello, Mr. Gordon Knox,' Omar stopped playing with some small gadget. 'What is it I may be of doing for you today?'
Knox eyed the garage. Two technicians gathered in one corner playing what might be a video game and another closely examined a Witiko jet pack. Lockers, cabinets, display cases, and trunks contained all manner of co-opted gear.
'I need the item you were working on for me, Omar.'
Omar's smiling face changed to a confused expression. 'I do not understand. The war with California ended. There is no use for the device. Besides, it was only a prototype.' 'But it worked, right?' 'Yes, Mr. Gordon Knox, it worked during the only test we ran.' 'Give it to me.' 'Um…well…if I were to speak in official terms then I would be needing a requisition from you to…to…'
Gordon's narrow eyes and red face convinced Omar he would not require an official requisition. The engineer removed his safety goggles, walked away from the work bench and retrieved a leather pouch from a storage cabinet. The small bag appeared to hold something about the size and shape of a baseball. Knox zipped open the carrying case and glanced inside.
'This is it?'
'Yes, yes, this is it. But I am confused as to why you need to have such a thing? The Witiko are all but gone from here, are they not?'
Gordon considered the fifty Witiko officers waiting to testify before the Senate. He wondered if those aliens would ever pass through the runes.
'I'm not so sure about that, Omar. And if the Witiko are going to hang around a while longer, something like this could be rather valuable.' 'You are a confusing man, Mr. Knox.' Gordon told Omar, 'I'm a big believer in insurance.' Omar's good mood re-surfaced as he quipped, 'Auto policy, Mr. Knox? Home and fire?' The Director of Intelligence considered the change in power. He thought about an Empire with Evan Godfrey atop the pyramid. Knox told Omar, 'Personal injury insurance.' — Jon Brewer undid the top of his dress uniform and threw it over the couch. He then plopped onto that couch himself. Lori sat in the adjacent easy chair in their small living room watching the end of the special news bulletin.
A broadcast summed the day's events: 'To those who have been watching the tug of war between the Emperor and the Senate over the last several years, it appears that match up has been settled, and Evan Godfrey is the big winner. There are many questions about the scope of his powers, but in the short term the most intriguing question is whether or not he can reach out to the pro-Imperial elements he has clashed with in the past and still maintain the fractured coalition of labor, peace activists, and political idealists that serves as his base.' Lori switched off the channel and snorted in disgust. 'So you handed everything over to Evan, just like that.' Jon placed a hand over his eyes. 'Not you, too. Not now.' 'Okay, you did what you wanted to do. You handed off the responsibility. Now what?'
He kept that hand over his eyes and answered, 'Now Evan becomes President. He and the damn Senate spend months coming up with big long documents and papers that turn our government into a republic, like it used to be. The rest of us go on fighting the war.'
'And you feel okay with Evan in charge?'
'Evan isn't in charge by himself. He has to work with the Senate, and he's got Dante advising him and he'll have a bunch of others doing that, too, as he gets settled.'
'But-'
'No buts, please. I never wanted any part of it. I'm not Trevor Stone, nobody is. No one could take his place and do the things he did. I'm a soldier. I get to keep on fighting, now the people who want to play politician can do that.'
Lori stood and walked to him. He still would not return her gaze. She spoke in a tone between sad and angry.
'Trevor fought all the time, too. One fight was out there on the battlefield against the things that came here to wipe us out. The other one was at home. Every day was a fight for him to keep us focused on the goal of winning this war. No matter how tired people got, he managed to keep us looking forward. So yeah, Jon, you're a fighter. But today you chose not to fight; today you chose to run away. Sooner or later you're going to either have to fight this one again, or surrender. Truth is, my husband, since the day the aliens invaded there hasn't been a middle ground. Trevor knew this. You do, too, you just don't want to deal with it.' He finally pulled his hand away from his head and met her eyes. 'I love you Jon. But today you let a lot of people down, Trevor Stone most of all.' — Evan Godfrey slid open the top desk drawer and rifled through the pens, scrap paper, and notebooks inside.
He had trouble believing the day had finally arrived. There he stood in Trevor Stone's office on the second floor of the mansion and while he may not be Emperor, he might as well be.
He would be President of The Empire. No, eventually they would hold a vote and he would be President of the reborn United States of America. Between now and then he held nearly as much power as Stone had wielded, only poor Jon Brewer did not realize as much. Trevor had ruled with an authority derived from his actions since the invasion. People saw him as a savior and his initial bunch of lackeys pledged an oath of complete devotion.
Evan knew his authority came from a different place. He wielded the power of uncertainty. With only the vaguest of guidelines and parameters on paper, he could expand his authority as far as he cared. Oh, there were a few bumps in the road that needed smoothing, but as the reporter had suggested the title 'President' might as well be 'Emperor.'
Trevor, Evan thought, used his power to create a cult of personality spiced with the fervor of a crusader. In contrast, with Evan Godfrey in charge, the people would not be wasted on some foolish crusade. Instead, he would help them build a utopia, of sorts. While perfection could never truly be achieved, Evan knew his vision of government and society would come as close to the ideal as any man dared to dream.
A 'normal' President in the old days might achieve one or two initiatives of note. But not Evan. Through the cloak of uncertainty he would command the authority to mold the new world to his liking; in his image.
Evan chuckled and played the past few weeks over again, enjoying the memory of each scene, of each victory, of each piece falling into place.
His fine mood spoiled as in walked Gordon Knox. The Intelligence Director paused at the doorway between the two Doberman Pincher dogs guarding inside the room, locked eyes on Evan, and then strolled forward in careful steps.
Evan, feeling the strength of his new position, did not let his stare waver. For the first time ever, he held the advantage over Knox. He planned to enjoy every moment of what few moments of their rivalry remained.
Knox spoke first, 'Well, looks like you're moving right in.'
Evan kept his voice calm, cordial, yet the glare in his eyes carried much darker overtones.
'I feel it's important to get right to work. There are so many…so many projects I'm looking forward to completing. Things I think are long overdue.'
