by G. R. Carter
Alex shrugged, not wanting to rehash the painful thoughts associated with the circumstances.
“Walsh knows that, too. So now you have him back on his heels. He’s second-guessing himself for the first time since the Reset,” Tony said.
“How do you know that?”
“What are you and I doing right now?”
“Second-guessing ourselves.”
Tony laughed heartily. “Exactly! Except we’re used to doing that. He hasn’t had to. Most of his success has been against starving towns defended by a few state policemen barricaded behind a brick building.”
“He’s got problems up north, too,” Alex added.
“The Caliphate? The Blackhawks are getting pressure from them, too,” Tony said. All Blackhawk communities were on or within sight of the great Mississippi River. “Jihadist raiders have floated downstream right into their northern towns. Savages don’t leave anything alive against the women they carry off.”
Alex rubbed a mild headache out of his temples. “Walsh was fighting a big group out of Aurora.”
“That’s ironic.”
“What’s ironic?” Alex asked.
“Aurora. Northern Lights? Solar storms started all of our trouble years ago. Remember? Now an area named after them is going to cause us more headaches,” Tony answered.
Alex chuckled. “Hadn’t thought of it that way. The Aurorans converted to this Jihadist religion the Caliphate pushes. Now there’s a united front of religious crazies from your river all the way to northern Indiana.”
Tony whistled slightly. “That’s a lot of ground to defend. Even with airpower.”
“Plus we have to worry about them using the river to come down against you all. Can the Blackhawks hold them off if they work together?” Alex asked. The Blackhawk Confederation was more of a trade alliance with the added responsibility of helping each other in the constant struggle against ditchmen raids. The Jihadists posed a much tougher enemy according to New American Legionnaires now joining the forces of the Red Hawks.
“Those people don’t stand a chance without our help. We’re working on a riverboat navy right now to help them hold that area. Once again Celeste and her Wizards did wonders helping us with the designs. We settled on river tugboats as the base to build off of. They’re tough and there’s plenty of them. Your biodiesel works in the diesel engines with a little modification.”
Alex smiled. “Great. I’m glad whenever I hear we can help you in some way. We should have coal oil perfected before long. You can have the formulations to run through the computer and then start production in your refineries. Time to stop burning our food as fuel.”
“That’s great. More mouths to feed means more demands on the harvest,” Tony concurred. ARK still relied on the Republic for a large portion of its fresh food supplies. “What are you waiting for, EPA permits?” Tony joked.
Alex recognized the reference but didn’t fully understand the joke. Tony laughed again, this time a little disgusted with himself. “Sorry, I keep forgetting you’re that much younger than me. You don’t seem younger, no offense. Forget the joke, call it a pre-Reset classical reference.”
The only issue preventing a nearly complete mental link between the two leaders was an age difference just large enough to put the Reset in Alex’s formative years as opposed to Tony’s peak professional years. That sort of division caused problems in many societies that survived the collapse. For Tony and Alex it actually provided a bit of useful insight.
Alex called up the strategic maps in his mind for a moment. “So that makes the Caliphate our biggest threat, right? They must be ten times the size of Walsh.”
“Population and territory, yes. But training and craftiness? That probably equalizes the threat,” Tony argued.
“I don’t think I can rally the Land Lords for an invasion of the rest of New America. They’re already going to be stressed from taking on Little Egypt and the Gray lands we have to rebuild. We’ve tripled in size almost overnight,” Alex said. “That seemed like such a good idea at the time.” He surprised himself with the out-loud statement, which was the sort of thing he usually would have kept to himself.
Tony gave a look of understanding. As leaders of relatively small groups of survivors, each man looked at maps and wondered about things like buffer zones and resources. Not that they necessarily wanted to conquer new land, but if it came available in some way…
Tony continued: “We’re working closely with the Grange now. They’re based in Topeka, Kansas. Without our help, I’d say they won’t last more than another few years. But if they keep working with us I think they’ll be fine. They’ll add another source of food and fuel for us.”
Others would have felt threatened with their main ally and trading partner seeking alternatives to the agricultural goods the Republic provided. In this case, though, Alex felt relief. The allies needed every bit of their current production for the new dependents to the north and south.
Tony continued. “Tons of biofuel refineries, too. The helium for our skyships comes from a little town called Hugoton, Kansas. Didn’t think I’d need Spanish translators to have diplomatic relations with a place in Kansas, but that’s the new world for you.”
“So you think you have the resources to hold the river and support the Blackhawks? Martin and Sam told me they’re getting overrun with refugees since the Great Lakes Republic fell. People who don’t want to convert to the Jihadists,” Alex said.
“We’ll take care of it. When their confederation finally collapses, what should we do with them?” Tony asked, completely unaware of how dividing up people and territory might sound to outside ears.
“Ties in nicely with your Grange territory, doesn’t it? We’ll take as far north as Old Peoria and you take the river as far north as you want to go. If you don’t want them, I’ll take the old tractor plants up by the Quad Cities. They should be in decent shape. That’s still the Blackhawks' largest city, right?”
Tony nodded in agreement. “As far as I know it still stands. We’ve got plenty of unused factories right now so they’re all yours. I’ll push our river squadrons up north that far. Where will you dig in against the Aurorans?”
“There’s an area called the Cayuga Ridge south of Chicagoland about fifty or sixty miles,” Alex answered. “We’re going to try to hold them with New America recruits north of there. Fortress Farms are planned all across the area a little ways south. Gives us a buffer zone. I hate to give up the Illinois River, though. It’s a natural barrier that runs east and west for miles…. but I won’t waste trained men on soil that’s not sacred to us. We’ll just blow all the bridges and pray for rain.”
“So Walsh…” Tony said.
“Right. Him. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t want to fight the Americans. Of course I hold Walsh responsible for Dad’s death and now for Clark Olsen’s, too. Plus every other dead Red Hawk. But that doesn’t mean I lay awake at night trying to figure out how to kill him,” Alex said somberly.
“People in our position are always second-guessed, Alex. Probably worse for women leaders because everyone assumes when they commit troops they’re trying to overcompensate for perceived weakness,” Tony said.
He paused for a moment, and then an idea formed. “You might have just answered your own question, Alex.”
“How’s that?”
Tony placed one finger up to his face, an old habit he found unnecessary to break. Nicole always said she knew to leave him alone when it happened, that a grand solution was forthcoming. He had just such a remedy for their New America problem now.
“You said you don’t lay awake at night figuring a way to kill him. But you do lose sleep thinking of a way to beat him, right?”
Alex nodded.
“Switch those two. Forget trying to beat New America and figure out how to kill Walsh. Your master plan was to capture him so the Grays would fall apart. Wouldn’t killing him accomplish the same thing? And you wouldn’t have to wreck any more men or equi
pment on either side,” Tony concluded.
“Great theory, my friend. But I never wanted to make him a martyr to their cause. Walsh always painted us as domestic terrorists. Assassination proves his point. Besides, I imagine he’s invested quite a bit in making sure we can’t kill him,” Alex said a little testily. Headaches continued to nag his thinking as exhaustion crept in. This was the longest he had been awake since the invasion.
“You’re thinking of when he was in his comfy fortified capital. You own that now. He, on the other hand, is in a temporary headquarters trying to piece his empire back together,” Tony said.
Alex suddenly understood Tony’s line of thinking. “You’re talking about a coup where we install ‘reasonable’ leaders that will strike a deal with us,” he said. “We’ve got all these New America officers that Martin is onboarding. A group of them would make perfect administrators.”
Alex felt a wave of hope wash over him. He tried desperately not to get his hopes up, but the thought of not having to send his precious soldiers into a costly battle lifted his soul. Plus he was tired of killing brave men, no matter what their uniform.
“That’s brilliant, Tony. How do you come up with this stuff?” Alex asked.
Tony smiled with a shark-tooth grin. “Call it the family business.”
*****
“How is he, really?” Nicole asked her friend and colleague.
“I think he’ll be fine. I really do. We’re going to keep him busy enough he doesn’t have time to dwell on Clark’s death,” the woman who acted as co-Founder of the Republic replied. Rebekah Ruff needed no title to wield power. Just her strength and wit, aided by a fair amount of charm.
“A lot of us feared the worst,” Nicole admitted. “Tony was really broken up. I’ve never seen him so down. He’s always got his eye on the bigger picture, but until we got your message he was really gloomy.”
“I understand. We’re stomping out rumors of Alex’s death all over the Republic. General Hopkins from Vincennes has demanded to see him if our negotiations are to continue. Mom’s done a great job with him, but the guy’s worried that whatever he agrees to won’t hold up with the next leader,” Rebekah added.
The two most powerful women of this corner of the new world sat just above the room that held their partners. The same chimney served their fireplace, and warmth radiated from the personal chambers of the Hamiltons. A spiral staircase opened to the study holding the two men below, keeping Rebekah within ear shot if Alex suddenly felt weak or ill.
“This place is going to be beautiful when you’re done, Bek,” Nicole said, looking around. “I’m jealous of the land and the trees.”
Rebekah laughed. “You’ve got the most amazing views, though. You might have the only penthouse suite left on the continent!”
“That’s true. But you have to plan ahead when you want to leave. The new elevators are slow,” she said, drawing out the final word to illustrate her frustration. She left out the fact that prisoners were the ones who turned the cranks to make the system work. Human rights among rule breakers were not a concern at ARK, an irony not lost on their allies. “But the hanging gardens are beautiful and so practical. The sunlight and rain all get put to use. Since you were there last, we’ve painted almost all the dark surfaces bright colors to help with cooling. The city literally shines from a distance!”
Rebekah could see the excitement in her friend’s eyes. “Funny, isn’t it? ARK is the ultimate surviving urban city and the Republic is almost strictly rural. We’d never dream of building anything taller than the Capitol Building.”
“Well, we could never replicate those tall buildings, either. But I’m confident we can keep them in good shape for at least a couple of generations. We’ve blown most of the remaining river levees north of us, so with luck we won’t have to worry about flooding again. That will go a long way to keeping the city center in good shape.”
“You’re really an amazing engineer, Nicole. Where do you find the time to do everything?”
“Nah, it’s you who seems to be two people at once. Helping to run the Republic and still President of Old Main? That would have been a crazy load even with computers and cars. How do you do it?” Nicole asked.
“Celeste is taking on a lot more of the responsibilities at Old Main. We’re training people to be engineers there, so why not let the Wizards have a bigger hand in designing the curriculum? I’m just serving as an organizer. And I’ll be honest, Mom never really retired. She says she is, but not having to be the final decision maker at the college means she gets to actually do more there. I just back her decisions,” Rebekah answered with a laugh.
“I don’t doubt your Mom’s still involved. Old Main was her life, especially after your Dad passed. She’s a hero of mine, your mom I mean. Able to raise an amazing daughter, be a leader, and still keep it all together. I wander how many other groups could have survived if they had someone like her? Anyway, every time I get tired and want to quit, I think about what she would do.”
Rebekah smiled, grabbing her friend's arm. “She’d be so flattered to hear you say that, and embarrassed too! I know she has one favor to ask of you, though.”
“Anything, just name it.” Nicole replied.
“We’ve got this professor here, Maxwell. He was a spy for the old government when Mom resigned the US Senate and came here. Someone in Washington had him keeping tabs on everything that Mom did. She only kept him around because he was the source of grant money to fund Old Main’s work on the space program.” Rebekah paused at the shocked look on her friend’s face.
“Are you joking?” Nicole asked. “I thought you were focused on agriculture and manufacturing here before the Reset. Now you’re telling me you have a rocket scientist you’ve been hiding from me all this time?”
“Not exactly hiding. We just didn’t have any pressing need for a space station planner when we were growing potatoes in the campus quad, you know?”
“Why didn’t you force him out after the Reset? Especially if he was a traitor?” Nicole asked, unaware of the chill in her words. Being exiled meant certain death in the new world.
“You know how the impeccable Senator Julia Ruff is,” Rebekah laughed. “Always thinks everyone can be saved and brought around to her way of thinking. Frankly, he has been a good soldier over the last few years. His attitude has changed a lot. I’ll certainly never trust him, but he could be useful. He’s been rebuilding a computer system for us with old components from storage. We had a bunch of those that never got recycled. Mom, well I, gave him the go ahead to start working on putting together an internal network for us. The software is so outdated that whatever took out the modern stuff doesn’t seem to affect what we have.”
“So you want him to spend some time working with our mainframe to see if you can replicate it here?” Nicole asked.
“Something like that…is that okay? I don’t want you to think we’re trying to steal ARK secrets. We just figured if anyone could keep an eye on him it was the Peacekeepers. Besides, Maxwell is actually quite brilliant. He might have something to add, and I know you’re short on computer engineers,” Rebekah replied.
“True. I think it’s fine, I can’t see what it would hurt,” Nicole said. “Now, finish telling me about how the irrigation system is going to work here at Aronia Point. I need to design something new for our truck gardens…”
Mt. Sterling
Darwin King couldn’t sleep. Any sort of decent rest had eluded him for a week, waiting for an answer that never came. Clearly, ARK hadn’t told Malik about his betrayal; no column of soldiers showed up to arrest him. Instead, no communication came at all. He was in the quiet, and in the dark.
Kara stirred as he lifted himself out of bed and put on trousers he kept close at all times. Old habits died hard, and the tribal raids of their first days back in Mt. Sterling kept him wary. “Go back to sleep, love,” he whispered to her as he kissed her cheek. He stared at her for a moment, wondering at his good fortune to fina
lly find love after all these years. She was woman made of steel when protecting her people. Her emotions ran hot, love or hate. He was fortunate to have gained the former.
He walked to the window, no longer noticing the bars crisscrossed out of the heavy concrete. Irony being they held bad guys out now, instead of in. The prison made a perfect fortress for those he cared about. It was home to him now.
Malik would be coming for him soon. His comfortable life would be forfeit. He just hoped turning himself over peacefully would be enough to keep Kara and the boys safe, including the one she carried now. The Masens would be furious when they realized he wasn’t going to show up with his men to help attack the Red Hawks. There’d be hell to pay for that absence, whether the attack was successful or not. Maybe he’ll die and this will all be over he thought. But there’s always one more to take his place. King should probably make the move himself, but he didn’t have the will or the stomach for it. Nothing to be done for it now. He’d have to wait and hope that no matter what happened, the Masens would be so weakened from the attack they’d be unable to focus on Mt. Sterling. The hope was empty.
He spent the day like any other, checking the vats holding the chemicals that produced the mass quantities of Syn required by Malik. Then out to check squash and grain fields that fed so many of the other prison fortresses under the control of the Masens.
By evening, he was desperate for any word about the attack. He thought of sending a squad over to Jacksonville, to ask for news. But they would likely never return, not after word got around that Mt. Sterling stood up their masters.
He settled in to read by candlelight after not touching his dinner. Kara gave him space, as she did whenever he was brooding. He stared at the pages of Living on a Few Acres, still struggling to make himself a farmer instead of what he knew he really was… a drug dealing gangster. He didn’t believe in Continuity or any other religious foolishness. But he had considered how his children might think of him after he was gone. Being the most efficient producer of synthetic drugs seemed an unrighteous legacy at best.
