Resistance: The Gathering Storm

spoke again.

“George?” Grace inquired. “How’s the Department of Agriculture doing?”

Seymore was a long-faced man with a receding hairline and the demeanor of an undertaker. And for good reason. Crops had begun to fail due to changes in the weather, food shortages were becoming alarmingly common, and the price of even the most basic foodstuffs was spiking. Seymore noted that while the Victory Garden program had met with some success, it wasn’t going to be enough.

For the moment, however, there was one glimmer of hope. The administration’s decision to stop shipping food abroad was helping to ameliorate the shortfall.

And so it went as the Secretaries of Commerce, Transportation, and State all weighed in with reports that were unrelentingly grim. Ironically, the only person with anything even remotely positive to say was Walker, who gave a report regarding a successful commando raid into Chimera-occupied Britain, and a high-altitude fly-over of enemy headquarters in Iceland. Where, based on aerial photography, it was clear that some sort of construction program was underway. But, in spite of a few isolated victories, Walker had to admit that the future looked bleak.

Grace nodded somberly. “That brings us to the last item on today’s agenda,” he said. “A contingency plan I don’t believe we’ll have reason to use—but which I feel obligated to put in place. I call it Project Omega. Simply put, it would be a process by which to conduct negotiations with the Chimera.”

After a moment of stunned silence, Walker opened his mouth to object, but Vice President McCullen beat him to it.

“Surely you can’t be serious, Mr. President… Why, just last month you gave a speech in which you swore that the United States would fight to the last man, woman, and child! Were the news of such a plan to get out, there would be political hell to pay.”

Thanks to the efforts of SRPA, knowledge gleaned from the Chimera had been applied to all sorts of things over the last few years, including audio technology. And as Secretary of War, Walker had access to all the latest products, including the pocket-sized wire recorder he used for taking notes. Walker reached into a pocket to turn the device on as Grace formed a steeple with his fingertips. The recorder made a soft whirring noise, but thanks to Walker’s position at the end of the table, no one else could hear it.

“I hear you, Harvey,” Grace said tolerantly. “And, as I said before, I continue to believe that we will win a military victory. But I think you’ll agree that the government has a responsibility to examine every alternative, no matter how unpleasant.

“Furthermore,” Grace added, as his eyes swept those around him, “if there is to be any chance of a successful negotiation with the Chimera, it would have to take place while the country is in a position of strength, or the enemy won’t have a reason to enter into talks with us.”

Another long moment of silence followed the last statement.

Walker was tempted to speak but wanted to get all of the traitors on the record before he told them what assholes they were.

The Director of the OSP spoke. Because Ridley’s famously large head sat atop a relatively small body, his detractors sometimes referred to him as “the troll.” He was also known for the colorful bow ties he wore, a surprisingly beautiful wife, and his ability to play pool. His voice was smooth and cultured.

“I agree with the notion that all of the possible alternatives should be explored… But I would like to share some observations about the Chimera.”

He was famous for his mini-lectures, and Farnsworth rolled his eyes. Ridley continued, undeterred.

“As all of you know, the Chimeran forms have one thing in common,” he said. “They are constructs—tools, if you will, created by an alien virus that arrived on our planet in June of 1908. As such, the Chimera don’t have a government, military, or culture as we think of such things. In fact, as far as our experts can tell, they have no formal hierarchy whatsoever. Everything they do flows from common instincts, shared desires, and biological imperatives.

“So,” Ridley continued carefully, “taking those realities into account, it’s difficult to know who we would talk to… And more importantly, to what end? It would be like trying to negotiate hurricane season with the wind. Besides they already have most of Europe and Asia. There isn’t much incentive for them to negotiate at all.”

Grace had a lot of respect for Ridley, even if he didn’t like having his programs subjected to criticism, but he nodded tolerantly.

“Thank you, Tom. You make some excellent points. Still, just because some difficulties appear to block the way, it doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try.”

Dentweiler had been silent up to that point, and now he cleared his throat.

“We might be able to contact the Chimera through an infected soldier named Jordan Shepherd. He had already begun to change when he escaped from SRPA custody in Iceland, and by the time he was recaptured a couple of months ago, the reports I read described him as a new form of Chimera. Part-human and part-Angel. Yet, interestingly enough, one that is still capable of communication.”

Grace could see where Dentweiler was headed and hurried to seize upon the opportunity.

“Good thinking, Bill… This could be the opportunity we’re looking for!”

“Not so fast,” Ridley countered soberly. “I’m sorry to inform you that Shepherd—now referred to as Daedalus—is no longer in custody. He was being transferred from a temporary holding facility at Offutt Air Force Base, to a specially built maximum security lab in Florence, Colorado, when the convoy he was riding in was attacked by a force of what we would classify as Chimeran commandos. Half of the stinks were killed, but Daedalus escaped, and remains on the loose.”

“How long ago was that?” Farnsworth inquired doubtfully. “I didn’t hear about it.”

“Three days ago,” Ridley answered tightly, “and no, you didn’t hear about it. The report went to those with a need to know… The SRPA people are very upset by the way… They claim they should have been given responsibility for the transfer rather than the DSA. Which is ridiculous, given the fact that they were the ones who lost Daedalus to begin with!”

Grace had a need to know, or thought he did, but chose not to say anything, fearing that the relevant report was somewhere in the stack of papers on his desk. As for Ridley’s complaints regarding SRPA, he agreed. The people in charge of the organization had become increasingly combative of late. The Sentinels would be a critical part of any military victory—which made it difficult to rein them in. But that was a problem he would deal with later on.

Dentweiler smiled bleakly. His dark hair was combed straight back, his round wire-framed glasses sat high on his nose, and his prominent cheekbones gave his face a gaunt appearance. “That’s a tough break,” he said smoothly. “But it serves to support my point… Because if the Chimera chose to free Daedalus, it implies that he can call on them. Or that they need him.”

“Daedalus may provide a channel for negotiations!” Grace put in brightly. “See? We can accomplish anything if we put our minds to it.”

Then, turning to Dentweiler, Grace said, “Bill, please follow up on the Daedalus thing, and report back as soon as you have something. This could be a real opportunity, and we need to be ready to take advantage of it.”

He stood, and the meeting would have come to an end at that point, except that Walker couldn’t remain silent any longer. He brought a fist down onto the table so hard that a pen jumped into the air and landed with a clatter.

“Are you insane?” he demanded loudly. “Didn’t you hear what the Vice President said? What you propose is treasonous! What about Congress? And the American people? Shouldn’t they have a say?”

Grace just stared at him across the table. Finally he responded.

“Congress had its say when it approved the Emergency War Powers Act of 1946,” Grace replied stiffly. “As for the American people, you’ll recall that they elected me to an unprecedented third term in November of ’48.

“That being said,” the president added tightly, “I take exception to the notion that anyone who doesn’t happen to agree with your idealistic nonsense is a traitor!” He paused, and seemed to relax. “For the moment, Henry, I choose to believe that you’re overworked and distraught about our losses.”

Then his voice hardened again. “But if I’m wrong, and you wish to resign, you know where to send the letter.” He stood, and addressed the room. “This meeting is over.”