60
Koz sat in the conference room of the Looking Glass plane watching the ceremonies on TV. They were raising the U.S. Constitution from the bowels of the earth where the National Archives once stood, and he noted how regal President Sachs looked as a large crane lifted the indestructible container with the indestructible document into the air. But to Koz it was indestructible only because it lived in the hearts of Americans like Deborah Sachs.
He was so mesmerized by the scene that he didn’t notice his new communications officer walk in. “General Kozlowski
Koz glanced over at Captain Lyndon Han, who was holding his digital tablet and pen out for a signature. Han was no Captain Li, but it wasn’t Han’s fault. Koz signed off the checklist on the tablet and handed it back.
Han nodded at the TV. “Dinner at the president’s again tonight, sir?”
“No,” Koz said, brightening. “I’m cooking.”
As he spoke his BlackBerry buzzed with a text message. Only a few people besides the president were ever allowed to get through to him up here.
“Excuse me, Captain,” he said, looking at the text.
It was from Jennifer Sachs:
He stared at the text for a long minute. He could barely comprehend the tragic, terrible twist of fate that begat a new nuclear family from the ashes of a nuclear attack. He lost himself for a moment, remembering Sherry and so many others who perished in Washington. He should have been one of them, if not for Captain Li. Hell, they all would have perished were it not for Deborah Sachs.
Then his comm beeped with an FYI about a glitch in the VLF extension that he really needn’t worry about and his trance was broken.
“I better have a look at that myself,” he said, taking no glitch for granted since encountering the War Cloud.
As he rose from his chair and stood up, he looked out the compartment window and smiled. The Looking Glass plane was moving up and away above the clouds, its starboard wing reflecting the glint of a new day’s sun against clear blue skies.
