by G. R. Carter
Every wall was covered with maps from knee level to eye level. Two rows in most cases, taped together to provide a bigger picture. Red circles and arrows intersected in various locations, looking to the untrained eyes like the scribbles of a child. But to one set of eyes, or a single eye in this case, these were anything but doodles. Her husband used that one eye to study a particular grid while flanked by two aides with rare pre-Reset legal pads. She could almost see the eye shift back and forth, as though a supercomputer from the past world was calculating an equation.
“Here,” Alex said and pointed to a spot on the map. “I want our recon birds to do a flyover right away, make sure ARK isn’t landing troops on this spot. That’s where I’d do it if I were them.”
Rebekah knew he’d be right. Somehow, someway, Alex seemed to possess the ability to see several steps ahead. Militarily it was true, but also politically, though he swore he hated even the word. She took in the uniforms, the maps, the arrows and circles; this former small-town conference room, the place where a group of farmers had huddled to design a safe place for their families to ride out the worst catastrophe the human race had ever known, was now a war room. Historians would write someday how their Republic was born in war, grew up in war…hopefully it wouldn’t end in war. Rebekah knew from countless lessons on the rise of great civilizations that each had a life cycle. Most were born of chaos, lived to impose an order, then fell under the crushing weight of their own success. The United States had been perhaps the most remarkable example, rising from remote colony to global hegemon in the space of a few generations, then crashing back to a collection of rural fiefdoms and tribes in one night.
Regardless of her wishes, though—and Alex’s wishes as well, she hoped—war was here. She couldn’t hide the people she loved from it; she and Alex would have to figure out a way to fight without bankrupting their young nation of both resources and blood.
The Founder of the Republic, her husband, sensed Rebekah’s presence and turned with a slight smile. “Hello beautiful,” he said with his standard greeting for her. Creases once crisscrossing his face seemed less noticeable than they had in years. Alex radiated energy despite his lack of meaningful sleep. She noticed his ever-present cane was laying on the table instead of gripped in his hand. He still stood favoring one side, yet he stood on his own; an uncommon site due to the terrible wounds that had nearly taken his life just a few years before.
Rebekah considered herself religious, as most people did in this new age. But after years of near convalescence, Alex seemed to have received some sort of healing miracle during the attacks of Mt. Vernon. She would have trouble believing it in a story, but she had witnessed the transformation with her own eyes. It had been Alex who brought down the assassin that nearly killed them all. Though he assured Rebekah he would have been long dead if not for her actions before that.
She spoke with Bishop Hart about the events she witnessed. His opinion was that it may have been a miracle, but more likely it was a reawakening of sorts. A simple version of mind over matter; Alex had suffered massive bouts of depression after his injuries. The sudden shock of hand-to-hand combat may very well have unshackled his body from his mind, and now the two were back in concert.
Regardless, the old wolf’s grin was back on Alex’s face. The eyepatch seemed more sinister than before—not frightening to her, but she almost felt pity for those at whom his anger would be directed. Almost. Assassins had nearly killed her family, and she wanted those responsible gone from this earth, unable to threaten their sacred space ever again. She and Alex just had to find out who planned it and where they were.
“Sorry to wake you, Bek, but I knew you’d be mad at me if I didn’t,” he said to her. “Martin was able to take another assassin alive.”
She let a glimmer of hope slip in. She hadn’t expected any Jiji to be taken alive; to her knowledge their religion condemned souls who surrendered. “That’s surprising. Was he wounded?”
“Not physically, though Martin said he nearly died of fright…Wasson of Saline captured him,” Alex gave that frightening smile again. “Unfortunately, it’s not as simple as just being a religious crazy. Turns out the guy was one of ours.”
“An insider?” Rebekah gasped. Panic forced her to do a quick rundown of where her children were sheltered.
Alex detected his wife’s desperate thoughts and grabbed her hand. “No, no…don’t worry. I mean he fought alongside the Americans a few years back. He belonged to a group that got caught behind Caliphate lines when I ordered the northlands cut off above the Illinois River. We left him and his group behind.” Rebekah winced at her husband’s matter-of-fact tone about the consequence of his decision.
She recovered enough to ask, “So this was just revenge? That’s a lot of hate to get this far south with that many accomplices.” Alex nodded in appreciation of his closest advisor’s grasp of moving that many armed men into hostile territory hundreds of miles away.
“No, this was definitely part of something larger. Someone sent them here to take out the leadership of all the free states. Figured if they killed us there wouldn’t be any more resistance,” Alex laughed.
This time Rebekah couldn’t hide her discomfort at Alex’s cavalier attitude towards the attempt on their life. “You’re taking this very well. I have to admit, I figured you’d be a little more upset about how many people we lost.”
Alex’s aides quickly melted away. Few witnessed the Hamiltons disagree…many had witnessed the Founder’s temper. No one wanted to be close when these two human storm fronts collided.
“That’s really unfair, Bek. All I’m saying is that now we know what’s going on. We don’t have to sit and wonder any more. And it tells us something about the way our enemy thinks. Look, if we were killed, the Republic might suffer briefly, but someone would step in. Whoever tried this assumes our people can’t think on their own. So obviously that must be true in their lands,” Alex said.
“Your children would still be dead,” she replied sharply.
“But they’re not. We took their best shot and we’re all still here.”
Rebekah didn’t look at Simone Alvarez, but she knew the woman was in the room. “We lost a lot of good people in that shot.”
“They did precisely what they were trained to do, Bek. Don’t dishonor heroes’ sacrifice by pitying them. That sacrifice could very well be asked of you and me at any moment,” Alex said firmly, a slight rumble in his voice.
Rebekah took the opportunity to change the course of the conversation. “What happens next?”
“I’ve got every Shawnee Tracker in Sam’s airplanes headed north right now. We’re going to insert them on the Caliphate side of the river. I need information. I’m assuming whatever the Jijis planned was put into motion before the attack. They’ll have to invade across the river somehow, so we’ve got to figure out where,” Alex said as he turned to look at the maps again.
“That’s a map of the Mississippi, not the Illinois River,” Rebekah said with a half-question.
“Well, we’ve got a three-front war right now. If this was a play by the Caliphate, they’re the furthest away, geographically at least. I need the Tracker intelligence before I can do too much there,” he said pointing to the windows facing the darkness outside. More maps hung there, and several young men and women were furiously making hand-drawn copies of important areas. It was part of the curriculum Rebekah had instituted in officer training classes at Old Main; the long-lost art of cartography was back after a brief flirtation with extinction.
Alex motioned for one of the aides to return. “Here too,” he said and pointed to another spot on the river map. “If it were me, I might use this as my secondary point to cross.”
Something registered in Rebekah’s sleep-deprived mind. “What do you mean, three-front war?” she asked. “ARK, Caliphate…who else attacked us?”
“Vincennes attacked Evansville at the same time ARK hit Mt. Horab.”
Rebekah’s head dropp
ed. Since immediately after the Reset, the Republic had worked tirelessly to bring Vincennes and their experienced force of U.S. Marines into their alliance. Rebekah’s mother Julia Ruff and General Nicolas Hopkins, the current dictator of Vincennes, developed a close relationship for a short time. But in the end absolute power had corrupted Hopkins. Strange new religious beliefs fed his ego as he slipped into madness. He believed he was destined to be an emperor; the Republic and her allies stood in his way.
Tensions had flared in the last couple of years, congruent with the cooling of Republic relations with ARK. Clearly the attacks over the last 72 hours had been coordinated between the two. It was a blatant attempt to keep the Republic from aiding in the defense of their smaller allies. If ARK and Vincennes were willing to collaborate on something like this, it didn’t take Alex’s strategic mind to figure out who would be the next target.
Rebekah felt Alex look at her, then he raised her chin with his finger. “I got snookered and couldn’t save Mt. Horab. We’re not going to let Evansville fall too.”
“How are they still standing? Mt. Horab fell in one night, why not Evansville?” she asked.
“First off, they’re quite a bit bigger than Horab was. Actually, bigger in population than Vincennes, just without the trained soldiers. Plus, the Creeks tipped them off that Vincennes was on the move. That’s not all. The Creek Himself decided to join the fight. He’s attacking Vincennes’ supply lines all the way down old Interstate 64,” Alex replied with a look of pride on his face.
The Creeks were a loosely organized group with a huge range of operation stretching from southern Indiana to their home bases in Tennessee. Like their Native American namesakes, Creeks were your best friends or worst nightmare, depending on which side of evil they considered you to be. Alex counted J.D. Creek, known as The Creek Himself, to be a true friend though they had only met each other a handful of times. “The Creeks think Evansville can hold out another few days, but that’s it. That gives us enough time to get in the fight.”
Rebekah was unconvinced. Professional soldiers weren’t likely to overlook details given enough time to plan. “Hopkins has obviously been planning this for a long time. How are we going to stop him?” she asked.
Alex’s teeth showed as his lips curled in a viscous smile. “By attacking his city. He’ll have emptied it out to take Evansville…overall, his population is a fraction of ours even if they are a warrior culture. We’ll hit his city, and he’ll have to pull back. We’ve already got the plan sketched up, it’s the same one we used against Walsh when we took New America.”
“Everyone always underestimates us, Alex. Let’s not return the favor. Hopkins would never leave Vincennes unguarded. He’s never trusted us enough to turn his back.”
“Maybe. But he also thinks we’ll be distracted by what ARK’s doing to Mt. Horab.”
“Are we?”
“No. Diamante won’t cross the river now. The Buckles knocked the crap out of him. Tony would have never expected the losses they took there. It’s a hollow victory, costly beyond their expectations. He’ll have to dig in and worry about me striking back…which, believe me, I’m still considering…” Alex said absently.
After a moment’s thought, he met Rebekah’s eyes again. “When I laid down for my nap, attacking ARK was exactly what you were planning. I distinctly remember you and I arguing about it until I decided you weren’t listening to reason. Thus, my decision to give up and go to sleep…remember?”
Alex grabbed both hands this time. “Bek, ARK captured Essie. She ran out of fuel and managed to land that deathtrap plane of hers on old Interstate 55. A group of Peacekeepers saw it and got to her before she could escape. At least, that’s what they say. Diamante called me himself while you were asleep. He put her on the cable…it sure sounded like her, anyway.” Rebekah studied her husband, making a little more sense out of his mood. Knowing his beloved little sister was alive explained a part of his focus, even if she was being held by former friends he now considered enemies.
Rebekah also felt a huge weight lifted off. Essie’s plane had last been seen last chasing burning airships over Mt. Horab. In the pitch black of night, few held hope she’d find safe landing. Only those who knew the spirited young woman well expected her to figure out a way to make it through.
“So that explains why you’re going east instead of west,” Rebekah said.
Alex nodded. “I agreed not to unleash hell on ARK, and he agreed to keep Essie safe.”
“Do you trust him?”
“I wouldn’t be studying these maps if I did. Essie is a bargaining piece for him to buy time while he regroups. I’m only allowing it so I can deal with Vincennes first.”
“Vincennes wasn’t part of the deal?” she asked.
“I didn’t ask,” he replied icily.
“Any word on the refugees?”
“The surviving Buckles are safe in Tamms. Our armor sits between them and ARK. Captain Oliver survived the river battle, somehow. I’ve put him in charge down there…apparently none of the Electors made it across the bridge…” He sighed and made a decision that had been dogging him. “I’m not going to blow the Mt. Horab Bridge, though we’ve rigged it to go just in case. I’m leaving it standing, because someday we’re going back,” he growled. “Let Diamante worry about me for a while.”
Rebekah stood and stared at him for a moment. Physical abilities weren’t the only thing that had returned to Alex since the attack in Mt. Vernon. The sharp edge that once defeated the New American Empire was back.
Of course, that victory came at great cost. She worried the next victory would, too.
He sensed her concern and gave her a reassuring smile. “We’re doing all we can with what we have to work with,” he said. “The American and Lafayette Provinces are already on high alert against the Caliphate. Martin is heading back there now with most of the Trackers to coordinate our defenses. Everyone else is heading east or west to protect our borders.”
Alex hesitated, and Rebekah detected he was still hiding something. “And where are you heading?” she asked.
He looked down at the floor, then walked over to the maps hanging on the windows. “I’m leading the attack on Vincennes,” he finally said.
“No, you’re not. Not a chance.”
Alex matched her challenge. “I have to go, Bek. Sam’s busy, Martin’s busy, Eric’s hurt…I’ve got to lead for once. Not just be a guy who draws circles on the map.”
“You’re the Founder, Alex! Not some tribal chief, or some ditcher warlord with scalps on your belt. You’ve got responsibilities to your people to be here for them, not playing tank commander!”
Alex held up a hand in defense. “You’re the real brains of this Republic. You’ll coordinate all our efforts on the three fronts. Plus, you’re a peacemaker; I just make people mad. I’ve asked your mom to convene the Senate as soon as we can get representatives from each province here. I want 100% buy-in from each and every leader. We’ve got to have that to fight a three-front war. We need total mobilization of every able-bodied person in every province. Their equipment, too. Only you and she can pull that off.”
Rebekah’s mood turned dark as she looked down at the century-old hardwood floor. “What about the kids and me? What if something happens to you out there?”
The Founder was smart enough to know his wife was smarter. She was playing her trump card, his pride and joy…his children were the one thing he couldn’t live without.
Alex tried to console with logic. “We’ll need to make sure line of succession is clear. Just to make sure no one challenges your leadership. Then you’ll have to decide how to pass it on to the kids.”
She fumed. “You know what I mean.”
“Then you’ll have to tell them my story, Bek. Their father met his Creator in service to a greater good, instead of just wasting away in front of the fireplace shuffling reports,” he replied.
The window for discussion had closed. A part of her wanted to use the fina
l veto…she was reasonably confident he would acquiesce to her wishes in the end if she demanded it. But she also knew that would be the end of who Alexander Jefferson Hamilton really was. He was born in an era where courage and toughness meant little to a touch screen world. He came of age as a warrior king when those qualities meant everything. He truly was gifted on the battlefield, and the Republic would need all his talents and wits to survive what was for all purposes a world war.
“Will you say goodbye to them before you go?”
“We’ll tell Phax we’re sending him to Fortress Northgate. He’ll be the official Hamilton representative overseeing construction there. He’ll be thrilled; he’s got the plans for the new Fortresses memorized, I catch him staring at them in my office,” Alex said with a grin. Northgate was the new prototype for Republic frontier fortresses. Only Alex and Rebekah knew it would one day become the home of Martin Fredericks and his wife Maggie, who was the governor of the American province. Until now, the two had kept residence in Lincoln City, near the campus where Colonel Darian Walsh first created the New American Empire. Lincoln City would remain the capital of the province, but Fredericks wanted their children to grow up on a Fortress Farm. The project wasn’t exactly a secret, but few grasped the scope of what was being created on the far northern edge of Republic territory.
For the first time since the conversation began, the co-rulers had found common ground. “He’ll be safe up there,” Rebekah said with a nod. “Keeping him penned up around here is impossible. He can disappear for hours. And Fredericks’ men will watch him like a hawk,” she finished with intended irony.
“The little ones are used to us coming and going. I’d say let’s send them to your Mom’s, but I’d rather them be here, sheltered in the Domicile.”
“Safer here than at Aronia Point?” she asked.
Alex nodded. “I think all of you should stay here. I hate to think our estate isn’t safe, but it’s a lot easier to keep a full Silver Shields barracks here than out there. We built Aronia Point with peacetime in mind. I never expected to have to fortify it. Guess I got sloppy…that won’t happen again.”
