"Go to hell."
They stood there in a stalemate for several seconds.
"Gresson, if they are really still out there and this thing turns off..." Marcus reminded him.
Gresson growled and said "I know. Go get his family..."
Fear flooded Michael's face. "Please, don't," he begged.
Gresson breathing quickened and he stared long and hard into Michael's terrified eyes. His hand began to tremble from the tight grip he was keeping on the gun. Marcus headed for the door to retrieve Michael's wife and children.
"Wait," Gresson said. Marcus looked over at him. Gresson remained, gun ready, for several more seconds before gasping, lowering the weapon, and saying, "Okay, okay. We won't hurt them, Michael. But please listen to me. The... Exterminators..." He looked around at the others in the room, apparently embarrassed by the word. "We knew they were coming. We also knew we had no chance of stopping them, unless we did this. We had to. It's an incredibly complex signal that destroys nearly all electric equipment, almost like recurring blasts of an electromagnetic pulse."
Gresson took a breath before he continued. "The Exterminators arrived here in spaceships, ships we could temporarily disable with this signal. We knew they would descend to the surface as soon as they arrived, so the signal was made as strong as possible so that when they hit it, their ships would fall. Without shields, the impact would destroy them. We hoped that would happen to all of them, and it did for some. That fireball in New York we saw? That was one of them. It was a ship that fell and exploded, just like we predicted. But as we made our way down the coast, we saw some of them, still alive. Somehow, some of them survived the fall. If even a single ship managed to survive the descent intact and this signal shuts off, there will be no stopping them. The weapons on those ships are capable of far more destruction than you can imagine."
"Project Blackout was meant to be a safeguard, something to fix the problem with the signal Marcus mentioned, just in case. We never actually believed we would really need it. Once all the ships crashed, we thought it would be over and we could eventually shut off the signal before it burnt itself out. Now we know better. Michael, if you don't help us... It's just a chance we can't take. More than a few hours of that signal being turned off and one of those ships, even if it's badly damaged, could kill millions. Given days, and there will be no one left. I know what this thing did to so many people already. I know what we did. But I also know that if we had not turned it on, not a single person on the planet would have survived the Arrival. Not you, your family, Sean, Lash, Jake, Lucas... None of you. I admit that when we turned it on, we may not have truly realized the full, irreparable damage it could cause. But the potential, though dim, future that we still have is better than not having one at all. Please, Michael. Save us. Save us all."
Michael slumped to the ground and sat on the cold cement floor, overcome by the revelation. He stared into space, trying to make sense of it all. That signal had destroyed his life and those of his family. It had killed countless people, many whose bodies he himself had seen during his journey south on I-95. Yet somehow he was now expected to make sure it stayed on. Deep down he knew he had no choice. Either way he felt he would be responsible for more lives lost and Michael could think of no third option. He began to realize that Gresson had not lied. Their journey had been to stop the Exterminators. The cost of stopping them, however, meant the world would continue to suffer in the dark. His own project, once meant to be used to stop violence and to protect his fellow humans, would now ensure the opposite. The lesser evil, he tried to convince himself.
Michael rose and walked over to Project Blackout. Marcus ran up beside him.
"Thank you, Michael," Gresson said. "Thank you."
Michael gave no reply. He pointed out a small cluster of circuits in Project Blackout. "That's what you need."
Chapter 35
New Salvador - August 27, 2072
Fixing the signal had not been easy, but after Michael explained the process Project Blackout used to survive for long periods of time, Marcus was able to replicate it on a much larger scale inside the metal cylinder that housed the global signal emitter. After an hour of work, the deed was done. While some coverage of the Indian Ocean was now lost, the rest of the world could now be kept free of electronics indefinitely by New Salvador.
Michael approached Gresson, who had remained in the room while the signal was being modified. "What happens next? This thing can't stay on forever."
"I know. We have to find the ship that survived and ensure that it is the only one. The truth is, there is only so many of us and far too much land to cover. I appealed during our council meeting for New Salvador to begin seeking outside help. Hopefully, now that you have shown yourself useful, they will start listening."
"Why the secrets? Why are you all so afraid of telling others what's really going on?" Michael asked.
"Well, first there is a practical reason. We obliterated this world. It was for a good reason, but you especially can attest to how difficult it is to come to terms with that. Not everyone will be able to understand that the end justifies the means, like you now do."
"Nothing has been justified. You did what you had to do and so did I. It doesn't make anyone less culpable for all those deaths."
"Perhaps. Now you can see why we cannot command some kind of 'resistance' alone. Too many questions would be asked if we were the leaders. Questions you and the others asked during our journey. We can not answer them for everyone. All it takes is one zealot who thinks the signal should be turned off. If they earn enough support and take it down by force, the chance of stopping the Exterminators disappears."
"But help is needed. What choice do you... do we have? If you're serious about searching the globe for any remaining Exterminator ships, we'll need thousands of people scouting, if not more. And we'll need enough firepower to take on any Exterminators we find."
Adron abruptly entered the room. "Fixed?" he asked. Gresson nodded. "Well, at least that's dealt with. Gresson, it seems some more of your friends have arrived. A lot of them."
Gresson looked confused. "What are you talking about?"
"They look like they are from the military. And their leader, a General Sanders, says he knows you. I assume this is your president 'act' coming back to bite us..."
"No. This is something different," Gresson said.
"The army? That's your plan, isn't it? Get the army to track down the Exterminators. That's what you talked about to Sanders and Valdez," Michael said.
"Yes. But something's wrong. They weren't supposed to get here for another few days. I... I have a bad feeling about this."
They all returned to the surface of New Salvador and crossed the courtyard to the barricaded front entrance. Voices and shouts could be heard coming from both the gathered locals and those outside.
"How many are there?" Gresson asked.
"I don't know," Adron replied. "But enough to cause some serious damage."
"Alright. Don't start a war, but get as many people as you can into defensive positions on the wall. I'll go see what I can do outside," Gresson said.
Adron ran off to prepare a defense of New Salvador while Gresson made his way to the entrance. Michael was unsure if he wanted to follow Gresson outside. He could see that near Gresson's home, his family was gathered, along with Lash, Jake, and Lucas.
Gresson saw his hesitation. "Michael, go tell Lash and Jake to help watch the front gate."
Michael nodded and ran toward them. On his way over, he noticed many of the locals creating barriers from seemingly innocuous things in the courtyard. Everything from the benches to the decorative rocks was apparently designed to double as defensive protection.
"And Michael!" Gresson yelled. Michael turned around. "Get the others inside."
Michael reached his family and they exchanged embraces.
"What's going on?" Lash asked.
"Gresson needs you and Jake to help the others stand guard at the door. Everybody else sh
ould come inside with me."
"Michael, what's happening?" Alice asked, as Michael grabbed the handles of her wheelchair and pushed her toward the door.
"I'll explain everything later, I promise. For now, New Salvador must be protected at all costs. Jake, Lash: watch Gresson's back," Michael said.
Jake and Lash nodded and headed for the front gate. Adam wanted to join, but Michael grabbed his son's arm and pulled him inside the house. Sean paused outside the door. He looked over at Jake and Lash as they headed toward the gate. It's time I actually did something, he thought. Motivated to finally become the hero instead of the one cowering in the corner, he ran toward the gate, looking for some way to help.
Jake and Lash found the front gate surrounded by armed New Salvadorians. Sean caught up to them seconds later.
"You sure you want to be here, Sean?" Lash asked. Now that they were near the front wall, they could hear the sounds of a large congregation of marines and soldiers outside.
"Absolutely," he replied adamantly. Lash and Jake looked at each other and shrugged.
The three of them found a staircase that led to the top of New Salvador's ramparts, hoping to be of some use there or to at least be able to see what was happening. They found an empty space next to Jordan, the woman who had first greeted them on I-95 only twenty-four hours before.
"Do you know what this is about?" she asked. They could now see a crowd of military forces among the trees in front of New Salvador. The mix of soldiers and marines numbered in the hundreds, at least. General Sanders stood on top of one of the burnt out cars that laid outside the front gate. Colonel Valdez stood on the ground nearby. Gresson was walking toward them, weaving between the defunct vehicles.
"Long story short, we were held captive by the guy standing on the car," Sean said. "We escaped and met Colonel Valdez, the hispanic guy standing over there. Apparently Gresson told Valdez something, maybe to come here. But from the looks of it, this wasn't really the plan."
"Sometime you need to tell me the long version," Jordan said. "Sounds like you all had one hell of a trip."
"As long as you're willing to tell us your story," Lash said. "You know, something along the lines of who the hell you people even are?" Jordan sighed and turned back to see what was happening on the ground in front of them.
Gresson now stood several feet away from Sanders. With a disconcerting grin, Sanders exclaimed, "Mr. Gresson! How wonderful to see you again. You've come quite a ways since we last met. A shame you left so prematurely. We had so much more to discuss!"
"I do not particularly enjoy being held prisoner by my own general," Gresson coldly responded.
"Your general? Ha! Regardless of what anyone calls you, or how alive you might be, you are no longer the sitting United States President. Truth be told, even if you were, I don't think you of all people are entitled to give military orders. You're a traitor, Mr. Gresson. A traitor who needs to be put down. It's too bad the first time didn't take."
Gresson stood silent for a moment, trying to put the pieces together in his mind. The way Sanders had said his last sentence gave Gresson a startling realization. "The Demilitarization Act. The act you hated so very much. The assassination was retribution for it, and you were behind it, am I right? It was an act that promoted peace! You tried to kill your president because of that?"
"For good reason," Sanders growled. "Because of the DM Act, our nation is entirely incapable of defending itself. Because of you, we are overrun."
"You are an idiot if you think more weapons would have saved us," Gresson argued.
Their argument continued for a while, giving time for Lash to ask those around here, "The DM Act? I never really followed politics. What are they talking about?"
Jake gave her an incredulous look. "I thought everyone knew about that. Couple years ago, Gresson passed the Demilitarization Act, which shrank the size of the military or something."
"Wasn't just a U.S. thing either," Sean explained. "Most major nations agreed, under the DM Act, to cut spending for their militaries and to limit their size. It was a peacekeeping act Gresson got UN support for. A lot of people hated him for it."
"Apparently so did this general," Jordan said. "I don't know what all I should be telling you, but let's just say there was a secondary reason for the act. We didn't want massive armies taking everything over after the Arrival. This was a small step in that direction."
"Did it really do all that much?" Jake asked.
"No. Alex learned the hard way how complicated and ineffectual your politics could be."
"He had to become president to figure that out?" Jake commented.
Down below, the argument was growing heated. "Enough!" Gresson growled. "If I recall, President Reyes is in Europe, if he is still alive. That means he is no longer able to adequately run the office. As such, I am returning as president and order you to stand down."
Sanders let out a hysterical laugh. "I don't think so, Gresson," he said. He readied his gun, which was followed by those defending New Salvador aiming theirs.
"About to shoot the U.S. President in cold blood? Who is the traitor now, General?" Gresson asked.
"I'm no traitor!" Sanders nearly screamed. He clenched his gun tighter. "I die for this country. And I die, knowing you'll join me. Men!" The soldiers behind him reluctantly raised their guns.
"This is madness. General, I am relieving you of command," Valdez ordered, his gun drawn.
"Corporal Ryan, secure the colonel's weapon," Sanders ordered a soldier standing next to Valdez.
The corporal looked at Valdez. "I'm sorry. Sometimes it's the only way," Ryan said, pulling his weapon.
"No, wait!" Valdez exclaimed. The corporal turned around, took aim, and fired a bullet into General Sander's skull. The general's body collapsed onto the metal remains of a car he had been standing on, rolled off, and landed on the ground. A collective gasp was made by both the troops and those on the wall. Sean had jumped back at the sound of the gun, nearly falling backwards off the wall, if not for Jordan's quick grasp.
"We had to do it eventually, sir," Ryan told Valdez. Valdez silently nodded, though he was visibly upset by the execution he had just witnessed.
"Weapons down," Gresson called back to those on the wall. They obeyed.
"Weapons down," Valdez echoed to the marines and soldiers. They slowly did as asked, many unsettled by their general's demise. Valdez approached Gresson, watched closely by hundreds of pairs of eyes. Valdez stopped a few feet away. The two men stared at each other for several seconds. Valdez stood up straight, raised his hand in salute, and said, "Mr. President!" A thunderous repetition of the action occurred among the hundreds of soldiers and marines behind him.
Gresson nodded and said, "At ease." Valdez and his troops lowered their arms.
"Perhaps we could find a place to talk, Mr. President?" Valdez asked.
"Come with me," Gresson said. He led Valdez into New Salvador once the colonel gave temporary command of the troops to another officer.
Gresson led Valdez to his home. Inside, a surprised Case family and Lucas greeted them.
"Can we have the room?" Gresson asked. The others stepped outside. The two of them sat down in the living room.
"What happened?" Gresson asked Valdez.
"I eventually talked to Sanders, like you asked. As soon as he heard that you would be at a military base, though, he demanded we leave immediately. It seemed odd at first, his wanting to get down here so fast. Before then, he had always taken... extreme steps to protect the capital and refused to leave for anything. But now knowing he was behind the assassination... Well, I guess his rush makes sense. It also makes me realize it's a good thing you got out of D.C. when you did."
"I assumed he was just making sure I was not an impostor. I guess what he really held me for was to tie up loose ends."
"Had I known..." Valdez shook his head.
"You couldn't have."
"I knew he hated the DM Act. Hell, everyone did. He rustled a
lot of feathers trying to stop it. But to plan an assassination? It's... it's insanity." Valdez sighed. "For the record, you made the right decision passing that act."
"You don't need to cover your ass, Valdez."
"I'm not trying to. It's my honest opinion. But what I'm trying to say is that you shouldn't blame yourself, if you are. You couldn't have known the Exterminators would be coming. Not passing the DM Act wouldn't have changed anything. Our weapons aren't proving very effective anyway."
Gresson leaned back in his seat. He was unsure how much he wanted to tell Valdez. If I told him I knew all along, how many more questions will he raise? If I don't tell him, how will I explain what I know about their ships? Gresson thought. He recalled Valdez's last sentence after a moment. "Your weapons aren't effective? What do you mean?"
"Since you left Quantico, the whole area has gone to hell. We've been taking on thousands of them, but our guns don't seem to..."
Gresson sat up straight. "Thousands?"
Valdez nodded. "At least. We've been involved in plenty of little skirmishes all across Virginia, Maryland, and Pennsylvania. They haven't attempted another major attack since they lit up half of Philadelphia. Though to be honest, I don't fully expect the capital to be standing when we go back. But if your orders are to keep D.C., we'll go back and hold it or find someway to save it if they're already there."
"No. For now, take your troops to Jacksonville. You will stay there until we can formulate a strategy to take them out."
"Understood," Valdez replied, reluctantly. He hated the idea of Washington D.C. having only a few forces left to defend it, but he knew Gresson was right. Without an idea of how to cause any real damage, the best option was to stay put.
"I should ask you about your corporal. Ryan, I think his name was. You seemed well aware of his intentions..." Gresson started.
Valdez sighed. "The general had it coming. He may have been crazy before, and I suppose we know that for certain now, but this whole... 'situation'... drove him over the edge. Corporal Ryan was one of many who thought that desperate actions were necessary. Until today, I didn't agree and had ordered him to stand down."
Darkness on a Pale Blue Stone Page 19
