Aftermath

by Charles Sheffield

  Methuselah proved to be easy. The remains of a rusted barrel sat by the track, a couple of hundred yards from the house. I put Methuselah down inside it. The rim was only six inches high, but box tortoises are not given to athletic feats. He would make no effort to leave until he became hungry. I walked on.

  It was two more hours before I could return to the house. By that time I was truly as tired as I had pretended to be earlier in the day. This had been a period of unrelenting and continuous effort, sustained by adrenaline and driven by the need to finish as quickly as possible.

  The house was silent and empty as I crept through into the bedroom and thankfully placed my burden on the bed. Then the headboard went back to its original position. Finally, I had to make one more decision. Gas, or oil?

  Gas has the disadvantage that it calls for judgment. I might easily blow myself up, along with everything else. So it was oil that I poured liberally onto the floor.

  While I allowed time for the boards to saturate, I made one more trip to the car. I reached into one of the boxes in the rear compartment, removed, half a dozen sheets of paper, and placed them prominently where no one looking into the car could possibly miss them.

  Then it was back into the house, for one final brief act. I paused before I performed it. Had I omitted anything? If so, I certainly could not think what it might be.

  True, I had not managed to dispose of Seth, an aspiration of mine since our first meeting. But as Longfellow remarks, life is real, life is earnest. It cannot all be simple pleasures.

  I made my way down the hill again to collect Methuselah. It was beginning to rain, and I felt weary. All the same, there was joy in my heart and a spring in my step.

  44

  The conversion of the big cargo plane into Air Force One was a technical success, but a practical failure. Cargo simply does not have the same needs as humans. One of those needs is warmth. The plane's interior was not temperature-controlled, and trying to warm it with the available electrical power was like heating a barn with a candle. When Saul stepped out of the aircraft and into the waiting limousine, he felt frozen and semihuman.

  Part of the problem was psychological. His mother's death had been looming closer for three years, ever since the time of her first and minor stroke. The prognosis after the recent stroke had been dismal. Her life had reduced to a misery of sightless, immobile existence, from which he saw her death as a merciful release. In spite of all that, her end still came as a surprise and a defeat.

  What was it in the human brain that could see all the evidence of decline, accept it intellectually, and still be shocked viscerally by the final extinction of life?

  Saul leaned back as the limousine rolled west into the city. He glanced at his watch. Almost nine o'clock. His meeting with Nick Lopez and Sarah Mander would begin in just over half an hour. Seldom had he felt less up to any challenge.

  He went first to his bedroom and ran hot water over his hands. They trembled constantly, and they had almost no feeling in them. He had been awake for thirty-four of the past thirty-eight hours. He examined his face in the mirror. Except for a darkness under the eyes, he looked perfectly normal. That was just as well. Bad enough that he understood his condition, without Lopez and Mander becoming aware of it.

  He went to find Auden Travis and Yasmin Silvers, who didn't know if the meeting was on or off but had stayed on duty in case. He installed them together in an observation room whose display would show the scene in his office. From their shocked expressions, neither knew in advance that the other was also going to be watching the meeting. That was exactly as he intended.

  He had ten minutes left when he reached his office. He didn't feel the slightest bit hungry, but he had eaten nothing since midday. From the credenza behind his desk he took two bars of milk chocolate and a packet of potato chips. After eating half a chocolate bar, he went across and poured himself a strong scotch and water.

  A perfectly balanced dinner, and Dr. Forrest Singer should be proud of him. Something from each of the five food groups: fat, salt, sugar, caffeine, and alcohol.

  When Sarah Mander and Nick Lopez appeared together at the open door of his office, Saul was feeling a lot better.

  "Mr. President." After they had expressed their condolences for the loss of Saul's mother, Lopez stared curiously over to the corner of the office. "There's something new in here, but I can't quite say what."

  "Sit down, Nick. You, too, Sarah. I think what you're noticing is actually something missing. It's the Disraeli Persona. I've retired it."

  Sarah Mander sat down in a flow of flowered print skirt. "Really?" She was as fresh and elegant as Saul felt old and battered. "I thought Queen Victoria's favorite was your favorite, too."

  "He was. He is. But I managed without him after Supernova Alpha, and I discovered something rather strange. The advice he gave me when the Persona was not working seemed rather better than the advice he offered me when it was. I think he was of his times. As we must be for ours."

  They were outwardly relaxed and inwardly wary. As they should be. He had offered them no agenda for the meeting.

  "Occasionally, though," Saul went on, "I still use Disraeli's words. Here is something he said: 'Life is too short to be little.' That is why I have decided to accept your idea of a Pax Americana. I must congratulate you. You realized, long before I did, that this country, because of Supernova Alpha, is in a unique position of power and influence in the world. The idea that we should exert that power is not merely logical, it is essential to the continued existence of this country. And, in fact, of the world."

  Now he had them baffled. With luck he also had them off balance. He went on, "Before I get to that, I want your opinions on a rather different problem. What do you know about Pearl Lazenby?"

  "The Eye of God," Lopez said at once. "The Legion of Argos."

  "But not anymore." Sarah Mander's perfect brow wrinkled. "Wasn't she sentenced years ago to perpetual judicial sleep?"

  Saul nodded. "She was. Not perpetual in principle, but in practice you're quite right. She was sentenced to serve over six hundred years. But the supernova got into the act. Control of the syncope facility where she was stored broke down, and her followers came in and rescued her. Now she's promising a 'holy cleansing' of the whole country—starting with Washington. They apparently have over a hundred thousand people under arms, and they're all set to march this way. My question is, how do you think we ought to handle the situation?"

  Nick Lopez spoke at once. "Delicately. You can stop them easily with the Army. But the PR would be terrible."

  "So you have to use a small specialized team, and take out the leader." Sarah Mander went on as though she was continuing Lopez's remark. It confirmed Saul's impression. Regardless of what the House Minority and Senate Majority Leaders thought of each other personally, when it came to political instincts they were identical twins.

  "Without her the rest of the organization is nothing," Lopez said. "Capture her, but whatever you do don't kill her. Otherwise you'll have a martyr on your hands."

  "And bad trouble. All of which I'm sure is obvious to you." Sarah Mander arched her eyebrows at Saul. "Leaving only the question, why are you asking us?"

  "I want to be sure that we all agree on the approach to small things, before we go on to large ones. I believe that the three of us are going to be working together extremely closely over the next few years. Perhaps the next few decades. We have to understand each other." Saul spoke again partly to keep them off balance, but they were professionals. Little could be read from their faces. He doubted that was true of the two secret observers.

  He went on, "By the way, I have instructed General Mackay to do exactly what you propose. Pearl Lazenby is to be captured by a minimal strike team. Deaths and injuries within the Legion of Argos are to be avoided wherever possible, and the life of Pearl Lazenby herself is not to be taken, no matter what the circumstances.

  "But now, to the larger issue. I said that I wished to follow
through on your suggestion of a Pax Americana. That may be the wrong term. A better one might be a dux Americana. We have to lead the world in an unprecedented global effort. If we fail, then nothing else that anyone does for the next half century will make any difference. Humans are likely to become extinct. We have not seen the last of Supernova Alpha. What we have experienced so far is a small first wave of what will hit us later.

  "I don't expect you to believe this without proof. In the next several days, if you are willing, I will arrange for that proof to be presented to you. Nor do I expect you to make an instant decision to cooperate completely with me. I will tell you only one thing. In this matter, anyone who is not with me is by definition against me. That will have several consequences. In your case, Nick, it will mean that Auden Travis will no longer be working on my staff. He is an extraordinarily dedicated and competent aide. But from now on, you and I must share a common goal. Otherwise he cannot stay."

  Nick Lopez opened his mouth, and closed it again without speaking.

  "And you, Sarah. I know about General Mackay and Secretary Munce, and I am sure there are many others. You will no longer seek to recruit or suborn members of my administration."

  "Yes, sir." Sarah Mander stared at him. "Mr. President—Saul—something major has happened to you. And I don't mean the loss of your mother, which is something I've been through myself and I know how hard it is."

  "It has indeed, Sarah. I'm hoping that it will happen to you, too, and to Nick as well."

  "What is it?"

  "It's this." Saul walked over to the side table and came back carrying decanter, glasses, and ice. Without asking, he poured three drinks. "I listened yesterday to somebody who told me that unless there is an all-out global industrial effort—my words, not his, he doesn't think geopolitically—unless that happens, our civilization will at best come crashing down to the Dark Ages. At worst, no one will be around to worry about that or anything else. Humans will go the way of the dinosaurs, and our nemesis, like theirs, will come from beyond the Earth. I believed what he told me. And I decided that I had a choice. I could either sit back and be remembered, if there's anybody left to remember anything, as the man who had a chance to save humanity from destruction and did nothing. Or I might be remembered as the totally unreasonable, obsessive, remorseless single-issue bastard who tried to force the whole world to share his point of view. I asked myself, What was I in politics for? Comfort and privilege, or immortality?

  "I am asking you the same question. I made my decision. I'm hoping you'll make yours. There has to be more to life than patronage and pensions. If you're with me, you'll get everything that I can give you. Power, and trust, and more work than you thought the world contained. But if I find you're in this for the wrong reasons, I'll break you. I'll destroy anyone, House or Senate, man or woman, citizen or foreigner, who gets in the way. We're going to rule the world, but only because we have to rule the world. We have no choice."

  "Ich kann nicht anders. Like Martin Luther," Nick Lopez said, then glanced at Sarah Mander. "Don't tell anyone I speak German, it would ruin my image." He turned to Saul. "I don't know if this makes sense, Mr. President, but it's the absolute truth. I think I'm frightened of you."

  Saul looked into Lopez's brown eyes, and knew that he was not lying. He nodded. "I'm frightened of myself, Nick. I have brought myself by long meditation to the conviction that a human being with a settled purpose must accomplish it, and that nothing can resist a will which will stake even existence upon its fulfillment. That's not me speaking, that's Benjamin Disraeli. But for the first time in my life, I understand what he meant. I'm going to do this, or I'm going to die trying. Sarah?"

  "I want to hear the evidence—a person can be absolutely sure of something, and still be wrong. But I agree with Nick on one thing. You've changed, Saul Steinmetz. You scare me, too. And I'm the original dragon lady; I don't scare easily."

  "You'll hear the evidence, Sarah, anytime you're ready for it. If you can see a reason why it's wrong, you come and tell me. I'll be glad to hear it."

  Saul held out his hand. It was perfectly steady. "I've said what I wanted to say. I respect greatly the political skills and abilities of both of you. In the past I do not think that they have been exercised to the full. I hope that they will be in the future."

  The farewell handshakes were brief and formal, but Saul sensed a difference in them. He could not analyze it, and he did not try to do so. Instead, after the two had left he turned off most of the office lights and went to stand at the window. It was ten o'clock, and the last evening flights were arriving at National Airport. There were more of them every night. Slowly, little by little, the country was edging back to normal.

  But it was his job to make the country and the world believe that normal was no longer good enough.

  How well did people do, facing a threat still fifty years in the future? Did they say, not my problem, it's going to happen after my time? In fifty years, he would be dead or over a hundred years old.

  Tonight's meeting was the merest beginning. The real work would start tomorrow, on the international front. He had to persuade every other country that cooperation was not a choice, it was a survival necessity. Sarah Mander and Nick Lopez were not typical. Regardless of their personal morality and mean prejudices, they had the intellect to see and grasp the large picture, the long term.

  The lights in the office were low, and the reflection in the window was a pale ghost flickering across the room. He turned, slowly and wearily. It was Yasmin. He had been expecting her.

  She stood for a few seconds in front of him, then said in a low, anguished voice, "You made me watch on purpose. You knew what you were going to do."

  "Yes, that's quite true." Finally, he was able to do what for so long he had been unable to do: act on impulse, without thinking. He reached out, pulled Yasmin forward, and allowed her to bury her face against his chest.

  "That man, that bastard, that awful, perverted, two-faced, lying murderer." Her voice sounded close to tears, but she went on, "He killed my brother. And you—you asked him, that man—"

  "I did, didn't I? I asked him to work with me. Work with me closely, become part of my inner circle, share my trust."

  "It was just awful. If it weren't for him, Raymond would still be alive. And Auden, he thinks the sun rises and sets on that dreadful man, that fucking hypocrite. He was so excited, so delighted."

  "You told Auden about Lopez?"

  "No. There was no point. Auden loves Lopez, he'd never believe me."

  "Good. You're quite right about that. He wouldn't believe you."

  "Why did you do it? I mean, why did you ask me to sit and watch that? You knew how I'd feel. You're heartless."

  Saul held her by the shoulders and pushed her away from his chest, so that he could look into her eyes.

  "I'm a politician, Yasmin. Isn't that what you told me, you wanted to learn to do what I do? Well, this is one of the toughest lessons. Politics is the art of accommodation, the science of the possible. If I refuse to work with everyone I dislike, how far do you think I'll get? You told me you wanted to find out if you had what it takes to go all the way. There's only one way to find out a thing like that. Didn't you realize it would get unpleasant?"

  "Of course I did." She was under control, tight control. "I knew there would be compromises and odd partnerships. Sleeping with the enemy. But that enemy, Nick Lopez."

  "You get to choose your friends, Yasmin. You don't get to pick your enemies. Do you think I like Nick Lopez and Sarah Mander?"

  "You seem to."

  "Then you have to give me credit for being a good politician. I don't like them—but I recognize their abilities, and if they'll give me their support for what I need to do, I want them on my side."

  "But if I stay with you, and work for you—"

  "Then, yes, you're quite right. You'll probably have to work with Nick Lopez. It goes with the territory. You work with anyone. Can you do it, or can't you? If you can'
t, the sooner you realize that, the better for both of us."

  "You mean, if I can't deal with Lopez, I'm fired?"

  "I'll say it again. I mean that you—and me—have to be able to work with anybody, anyone at all, if that's what it takes to get the job done."

  "Oh, Saul. I don't know if I can. He killed my brother."

  "No, he didn't. Your brother stabbed Nick Lopez. I know what Lopez did to Raymond, but your brother is dead because of what he did."

  She was rummaging around in the pocket of her skirt.

  "On the little table," Saul said. "Next to the desk."

  "Thank you." She went across, took a tissue, and blew her nose. "I'm sorry. It was such a shock, seeing Lopez. I had no idea who you were going to meet."

  "I knew that. I also know something else."

  "What?"

  "That it will never get any worse for you than this. I could bring a thousand people into my office, and say I wanted you to work with them, and you'd never again have so strong an emotional reaction, so strong a reason to say no. Think of it this way, Yasmin. If you can handle Lopez, you can handle anyone at all."

  "If."

  "Can you?"

  "I guess. The shock's over now. If I see him again, it won't be as bad. And I really don't want to leave. I love this job."

  "So do I. Politics is an odd business. You know what they say about wrestling with pigs?"

  She managed a faint smile. "You mean, 'Don't do it, you get dirty, and the pigs like it.' "

  "That's it. Well, it's the same with politics. If you don't like the game, you should never even consider it."

  "I do like it. Most of it. Almost all of it."

  "Even if you have to save the world?"

  "I can stand that. I can stand anything." Yasmin took a deep breath. "I can stand Nick Lopez."

  "That's what I want to hear. I think we ought to call it a day now, before you have a chance to change your mind. I feel as though I've forgotten what a bed looks like. There's nothing that won't wait until tomorrow."