The dreadnoughts, of course, remained his ace in the hole. But they were limited in patrol areas and focused on the east coast for the time being, with his flagship undergoing repair and re-armament across state at the Pittsburgh shipyards.
His thoughts shattered as the door to the upstairs office burst open and his wife stormed in. The two dogs at the entrance jumped but relaxed when they saw a familiar face. However, Jon did not relax. He saw a fire burning in his wife's eyes and determination in her stride. He stood. Lori spoke. 'You have to make a choice now, Jon. No more waiting.' 'What? What are you talking about?' Lori glared at her husband and said, 'I just got off the phone with Nina Forest.' 'Nina? Where is she?'
'You didn't do anything when Evan started tearing apart everything Trevor worked for. You took your orders like a good robot when they demoted you to a paper weight. You've put up with Dante Jones keeping you in the dark for weeks now and yesterday when you heard Shep was arrested you made a phone call. A god damn phone call! That's not the Jon Brewer I married. He could be an arrogant ass sometimes and a real stubborn pig head, too. But he didn't sit back and let things just happen. He made things happen, right or wrong. Is that man still in there? Can you stop being afraid of screwing up and do what you know needs to be done?'
'Whoa, hey, what did Nina say? Where is she?'
'Here it is in a nutshell, Jon. Dante Jones made a deal with the devil, I.S. tried to kill Gordon Knox but he's still alive, and a couple of days ago your President handed Trevor's son over to the Witiko; and they're just the front men for something worse.'
Jon's face turned red, he blinked fast, and he ran a hand over his crew cut.
'How do you now this? Where's the evidence?'
'The evidence is Nina Forest. You remember her, right? Back when it was just a handful of us, we could trust her to guard our backs. She was our friend. You wanna know something? I believe her. I trust her a lot more than I trust Godfrey or Jones or any of those sonofabitches who've pissed away everything. But it doesn't matter what I think. It matters what you think.'
'Wow, wait, slow down…'
Lori did not slow down. 'You need to do something and you need to do it now because in a few minutes I’m guessing Internal Security is going to come looking for us and suddenly we'll be part of this phantom conspiracy.'
'Jesus Christ. This is out of control!'
'That's right. Now you need to take control. Can you do it, Jon? Can you?'
His eyes wavered. His fingers drummed the desk and he muttered, 'I've tried to do what I thought Trevor would want me to do; to keep it all going. The last time he left, we almost started fighting each other. I couldn't let that happen again.'
'You're a good man, Jon, but you screwed up.'
'I screwed it up last time, too, by not compromising. This time I bargain, and I fuck that up, too. I'm not made out for this. I'm not a leader.'
She warned, 'Stop thinking too much. I hate to say it my husband, but that's not who you are. You do things. You're not a politician. You don't sit around wondering about every little detail. You're a soldier and you have a mission, now. Our friends are in trouble, our country is being run by a traitor, and if you don't take things by the balls we may never have a chance to fix it. So what is it going to be? Are you going to fight, or are you going to run away again?'
His mouth hung open for a moment as she tore open the old wound of his cowardice. The wound he had worked to heal every day since Trevor Stone had brought him to the estate.
The pain of that hurt-of that shame-stung. His heart beat fast. In a flash he saw Trevor taking him to track Devilbats in what was more a test of Jon's courage and trustworthiness than it was a hunt. He saw the Wyoming Valley Mall exploding in a massive fireball with an army of crazy mechanical Roachbots inside. He remembered leading an expedition to the Arctic Circle to capture the runes.
He could not have done any of that had Trevor Stone not trusted him; had his friend not re-energized Jon with spirit and confidence. And when the time had come for Jon to play caretaker of Trevor's dream he faltered and handed it over to Trevor's greatest adversary, all because he had been afraid to lead; afraid to fail. Jon slammed a fist into the desktop. The pain felt good. It felt real. The General of Trevor Stone's armies commanded, 'Get our daughter over here. Our transport leaves in five minutes.' 'What are you going to do?' 'What I should have done a long time ago.' — In 1992 the one billion dollar Pittsburgh International Airport went on-line and became one of the most important hubs east of the Mississippi. In its wake remained the old Greater Pittsburgh airport. Allegheny County tore down the main terminal building there to make way for an air cargo center and business park. Nonetheless, neglected tarmac cracked to make way for weeds, chain link fences rusted and parking lots became black-topped wastelands, and all that happened before the end of the world.
Ironically, that one-billion-dollar shiny new Airport crumbled under the weight of a pitched battle between Pennsylvania National Guardsmen and Duass War Skiffs the first summer of the invasion, leaving behind a smoking mess of tax payer investment. In contrast, the abandoned airport found new life with The Empire's dreadnought program.
As the chopper carrying the Brewers descended to a helipad near the main administrative buildings, Jon spied the spoils of his grand vision floating overhead.
The Excalibur cast a shadow over most of the facility. Hovering maintenance platforms that resembled scaffolding atop anti-gravity saucers encircled the ship. In the distance-beyond the flagship's shadow-lingered another vessel nearly as large, this one shaped like an American football with large engines at the rear and a gigantic nameplate reading Hercules.
The Hercules, Jon knew, was the second ship in the Super Cargo Carrier program: essentially massive flying warehouses designed to transport huge amounts of supplies.
Trucks and carts whizzed along terminal roads, between hangers, to and from the cranes and platforms beneath the floating battleship, taking no notice of the descending helicopter.
One man did take notice, however. Brett Stanton and an entourage of technicians approached the chopper as the pilot disengaged the rotors. Jon exited with his wife and eight-year-old daughter a few steps behind.
Stanton removed his cap just long enough to wipe sweat from his brow. The shade of the floating behemoth did little to stave the July humidity.
'General,' Stanton offered a cautious smile. No doubt the surprise visit raised his antenna and the presence of Jon’s entire family piqued his curiosity more. 'What brings you out here?'
'What's the status of my ship?'
'Well, now, let's see. We've re-energized the anti-grav generators. We're about half way done with engine maintenance but haven't gotten to weapons systems, though they look in good shape. We still have a lot of paint and body work but before we're done we'll get her looking pretty again for you. Anyways, we still have to get started on the flight deck and I'm re-calibrating the radar and tracking systems. I'd say she'll be ready to go in three more weeks.'
'I thought you'd be further along by now.'
'We're not doin' so bad. Well, no, now I guess that's not exactly true. Seems our new Secretary of Defense keeps calling me and scrambling my priorities. He put the Hercules over there at the top of the list; bumped you down a notch. Thought you knew.'
Jon glanced at his wife then back to Brett.
'No, I didn't know. I've been kept in the dark about a lot of things, Brett.'
'You don't say? Yeah, well now, I'm sorta out here on an island by myself, so I know what you mean. Then Dante Jones will call one day and drop a fly right in my ointment.'
Jon asked, 'What about the crew?'
'Most of them are on leave. No planes, either; they were shipped out for maintenance. Now there's an engineering team onboard, military police pulling guard duty, some maintenance people, and Bear is up there with the bridge crew running simulations. Oh yeah, some trainees learning to fly Eagle transports from your launch pads. But other than that, she's a ghost ship.' Jon asked, 'You have a medical team here, right? I'm going to need them.' 'General, can I ask what it is you're doing here?' Jon laid his cards on the table. 'I've come for my ship, Brett. I'm taking her.'
Stanton did not react; not at first. He removed his cap, ran an arm across his forehead, sighed, and looked
