'She, sir. Agent Rachael Lonergan. She lost the lower half of her left arm. She's supposed to be on case-vac to Kennedy, but I, uh, need to discuss that with you, Mister President. We don't control that evac point at the moment.'
Kipper shook his head in confusion. The three men were huddled in a small subterranean room in Castle Clinton. The rocket attack had been suppressed nearly a quarter of an hour ago, and Kipper could hear only sporadic and muffled gunfire from above them. The end of the battle on Ellis Island, they told him. With no power to provide lighting, they spoke underlit by the white glow of a battery camp light that gave their faces a shadowed, haunted look.
'What do you mean you don't control Kennedy?' the president asked.
His detail chief shook his head.
'I'm sorry, sir. Poor choice of words. We control the secured area of the airport that we came in through this morning, but it is being attacked by irregular forces.'
'Pirates?'
'Pirates, mercenary forces, irregulars,' said Shinoda. 'They're uncoordinated, but there's a lot of them, in four, maybe five elements, an alliance of convenience most likely, cobbled together for the duration of your time in New York. We've seen them ally against each other at times. It would make sense for them to combine against us. Mister President, we cannot take you out of the city via Kennedy.'
'Do you think you'll lose control of the secured area?' Kip asked.
'No, sir. A battalion from the First Cavalry Division is there along with an additional battalion of Governor Schimmel's militia and a hundred special operators from Sandline who were on their way out after completing clearance operations in Lower Manhattan. Combined with our firebases, we have more than enough firepower to hold the position, sir. The problem is that it's simply not safe to take you out through that facility, Mister President.'
Kip folded his arms and dropped his chin down onto his chest, the universally recognized symbol of an unhappy President Kipper. His ears were still ringing, and he had a monster headache that was refusing to disappear even after a couple of painkillers.
'Well, Agent Shinoda, I'm sure you have any number of fallback plans and alternate routes out.'
Shinoda nodded. 'Yes, Mister President. We can evac you by Marine One to-'
'However,' Kip interrupted, 'we have, what, fifteen serious casualties from the rocket attack and about twice that again in walking wounded?'
Jed Culver closed his eyes and started shaking his head.
Shinoda nodded. 'Mister President-'
Culver tried to interrupt, but Kipper cut him off.
'Not a word, Jed. Agent Shinoda, what arrangements do you have for getting the really badly wounded people out? I assume they would have gone out on some sort of medical flights from Kennedy.'
Shinoda looked grim-faced as he nodded. 'We'd evac them to the federal health center in North Kansas City. They'll have to wait until we can secure the landing strip, sir.'
'That fight could go on for days,' said Kip. 'Your own briefings said there were a minimum of eight or nine thousand freebooters in New York alone. And plenty more up and down the coast. They picked this fight on purpose. What makes you think they won't just keep pouring men in to keep it going?'
'Mister President, that's not really my area of concern. You'd need to talk to your military-'
Kip waved his hand to cut Shinoda off. 'Well, at this very minute it is your concern, Agent Shinoda, because I'm making it so. Are you certain we're not going to lose all of those wounded people while we wait for the fight at the airport to die down?'
Shinoda looked deeply uncomfortable but did his best to answer, raising his voice to be heard over the growing clatter of a helicopter that sounded as though it was setting down inside the castle's walls.
'The irregular forces are very loosely coordinated, Mister President. In fact, calling them coordinated at all is probably an exaggeration. Maintaining a siege of the airport against superior firepower, especially with the air-to- ground assets currently servicing them, well, it's just not feasible sir, not in the long run.'
'But our people don't have long, do they? Our wounded, I mean. They need to get out now.'
Another Secret Service agent, this one dressed in black coveralls, appeared at the doors. 'Excuse me, sirs, but Marine One just set down topside.'
'Mister President,' Jed said. 'Perhaps if we could continue this on the chopper.'
Kipper shook his head. 'Nope. I'm not getting on the chopper until the Secret Service can assure me that all of the seriously wounded have been evacuated to a secure federal facility. You can start moving them out on my helicopter. It's equipped for this sort of thing, and I'm perfectly healthy, so I don't need it.'
Agent Shinoda attempted to demur. 'But Mister President…'
'Forget it. This isn't a debate. I'm going to have it my way. Now Jed, you go find me whoever is in charge on the military side around here and make sure he knows what I want done. Agent Shinoda, I will stay down here if it makes your job easier, or I can relocate somewhere more secure. I'll leave that choice to you. But I don't leave Manhattan until the wounded are out, do you understand?'
'Yes, sir,' Shinoda said with visible reluctance.
'Where do you have the wounded now?'
'We established triage upstairs, Mister President, inside the old gift shop.'
'Fine.' Kipper nodded to himself. 'That sounds safe, so take me there. Right now.'
Shinoda looked as though he was going to argue, but a raised eyebrow from Kipper was enough to subdue any resistance. 'Did you see any pirates, Daddy? They were on the news, but Mom wouldn't let me see it even though you were on with the pirates, too.'
Kipper smiled as he held the handpiece to his ear and imagined his daughter back home, fed and bathed and ready for bed-safe and warm and thousands of miles away from this dead city full of murderous crazy fuckers and blood and horror and madness. Her room was next to Barb's and his on the second floor of Dearborn House, and Kipper knew she would be sitting on the thick shag pile rug at the foot of her bed, surrounded by her closest advisers: Tigger, Barbie, and a white teddy bear dressed as a cheerleader that sang, 'Oh Mickey you're so fine you're so fine you blow my mind…' at the merest bump or provocation. It was a hell of a lot nicer to think of than his current surroundings, in the back of an armored car somewhere in Lower Manhattan listening to Suzie's voice through a connection of static and beeps.
'No, darling, I didn't see any pirates,' Kipper said. 'They were on another island. Now, have you brushed your teeth and said your prayers?'
The military radio beeped, indicating that Suzie was going to speak again. It really annoyed Kipper no end.
'Yes,' she said suspiciously.
'Well, then it's bedtime, sweetheart. So climb under the covers and let Daddy speak to Mommy.'
The radio beeped again.
'Okay, night night, Daddy.'
Oh Mickey you're so fine you're so fine you blow my mind. Hey Mickey!
'Good night, Suzie,' he called out, but she was already gone. The next beep of the radio heralded the less pleasant segment of this call home.
'Kip, is that you? Are you okay? They said you were fine, but my God, some of the pictures on the news. All those people. I told you not to go out there. I told you. The Secret Service told you. Jed told-'
Barb had gone from relief at hearing his voice, to anxiety, to building rage all in the space of a few seconds. He had to cut her off before she lost it. Hunching over the blinking lights of the control panels in the back of the armored vehicle, cupping his hands over the mouthpiece, he tried to keep his voice down. The two army technicians in there with him did their best to pretend they couldn't hear a word of his developing domestic argument. A bit of static washed over the transmission, cutting Barbara off and giving Kip his chance.
'Whoa, honey,' Kip said. 'Just settle down. I'm fine. I am perfectly fine. Hardly a scratch. And I'm surrounded by a whole army of… army guys.'
The two army techs surreptitiously rolled their eyes at each other. Another beep of the radio signaled Barb's biting retort.
'What do you mean, you're surrounded by army guys? You're supposed to be on a flight back home by now. Where are you?'
