He turned and reached up. Olivia was climbing down slowly, still moving painfully. Andrew looked at the couple and smiled. If she had lost her beauty it had been replaced by something far stronger and deeper. Chuck walked by her side, arm around her waist, helping her as she walked, still limping slightly.
“Track’s bumpy as hell but we’ve got a railroad again,” Chuck announced, coming up and saluting. “The Maine, Fort Lincoln, and Suzdal Railroad’s back in operation.”
Andrew smiled and shook his head and then took Olivia’s hand, bending over formally to kiss it. She smiled, lowering her eyes, which had lost none of their luster.
“When you’ve got the time, sir, Jack and I have come up with a couple ideas about flying, but it’s kind of expensive.”
“Later son, later,” Andrew said, a grin lighting his features. He patted Chuck on the shoulder and turned away.
The band struck up “Hail to the Chief,” and Andrew turned, walking down the platform, motioning for Vincent to follow him, Pat by his side.
From the last car, President Kalencka of the Republic of Rus emerged, stovepipe hat on, black suit as baggy and rumpled as ever. Tears streaming down his face, he looked out at the assembly, Father Casmar coming out behind him. Kal stood at attention until the last note was played, and then ever so slowly he walked down the stairs and stepped to the platform, Andrew rushed forward to grab his hand, but Kal smiled and turned away. Stepping off the platform, he went down upon his knees, bent over, and kissed the earth. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small lacquered box and opened it. Inside was nothing more than a handful of dust, earth that he had scooped up and borne away on the day he went into exile. Lovingly he turned the box over, letting the dust return, and bent low again, making the sign of the cross, openly weeping.
Andrew heard the Rus soldiers around him starting to weep, and he lowered his own head, emotion taking him as well.
“To the earth from which we came, to the earth to which we now return,” Kal said, his words barely heard.
He stood up and looked at Andrew, tears still streaming down his face. He rushed up to Andrew and embraced him.
“Thank Kesus for this day, my friend,” Kal said, “and thank Kesus for the day I first met you.”
Andrew returned the embrace, remembering well the night Kal, a frightened Rus peasant, had been shown into his tent, the first contact with this strange and wondrous world.
“Welcome home, Mr. President,” Andrew replied, his voice choked. “We’ve got our country back again.”
Kal nodded, stepping back from the embrace, and he saw Vincent rushing up to hug him as well, Vincent laughing with delight, grabbing hold of Kal and lifting him in the air in a bear hug.
“I’m proud of you, son.”
“I’m proud of you, Father. Welcome home.”
Kal turned and looked then at the regiments drawn up, flags snapping in the breeze.
He extended his arm.
“My brothers, my sons…” His words trailed off; he was unable to speak.
A wild spontaneous cheer soared up, the men breaking ranks, pushing forward, all order now lost, crowding in around Kal, raising him up on their shoulders, flags waving about him, the cheers echoing against the city walls.
Andrew made his way through the press, laughing with delight, accepting a blessing from Father Casmar, who suddenly was swept off his feet and borne away by the crowd. Others were now coming off the train, reunions around him, Gregory pushing his way through to grab his wife, the two kissing passionately. From out of the last car Vincent saw Tanya and the children and rushed up to them, kneeling down to grab hold of young Andrew, crying with delight as Tanya came into his arms, the twins clutching at their father’s legs.
He saw Marcus come down off the platform, and he went up and saluted.
“Welcome, Mr. President,” Andrew said, saluting smartly and grinning.
“It’s going to be an interesting party,” Marcus said, his Rus still halting, but improving. “How’s the situation?” he asked, trying to be serious even now.
“The last of them were released this morning, some ragged bands moving west out of the woods across the river.”'
“Tamuka’s people.”
“The same.”
“We’ve not heard the last of him.”
“It’ll be years, maybe never. It’ll mean we can’t stop now. There’ll be railroads to build, linking more and yet more people, freeing them from tyranny, freeing an entire world one day. We’ve got a lifetime of work ahead of us, your people and ours.”
“Our people together,” Marcus said, and Andrew grinned broadly.
“The Tugars?”
“Still riding east. They crossed through our lands without incident, though that move had me worried,” Marcus replied. “But he honored his word as you thought he would, and pledged to stop the killing of people farther on in his march eastward wherever they might go. He told me to say to you that Qubata was right about you after all, perhaps right about all of us, and then he rode on.”
The turning of the Tugars had been crucial, increasing the terror of the Merki, adding strength to his bargaining with Haga, and, perhaps most important, protecting the wounded, who still might have been killed. In the days to come, many of those wounded would be coming back home who would not have been alive if it had not been for Muzta. He was glad that Emil had managed to save Muzta’s son’s life. He hoped that somehow what was left of Muzta’s people would survive.
Marcus looked past Andrew as the men of the three corps of Roum came pressing through the crowd, and he stepped down to them, arms extended, laughing as they swept him up into the air, cheering loudly, holding him aloft.
Behind Marcus, Emil came out of the car and looked around at the chaos.
“I bet the city’s a mess,” Emil said, lowering his head, taking off his spectacles to clean them, and then putting them back on.
“How are the boys at the hospital?”
“Still losing some, but most of those still with me are on the mend,” Emil said quietly. “I’ll tell you something, though, Andrew. I’m retiring.”
Andrew looked at him, a bit startled.
Emil forced a smile. “I guess the last time did me in,” he whispered sadly. “One operation too many, one sacrifice too many, one too many boys of war dying on me.”
He paused and looked back at the crowd.
“But I can see it was worth it in the end,” he whispered. “Plan to do research,” he said, his voice brightening again. “Doing some experiments with carbolic acid—seems to work better than tincture of lime to stop infection. Want to do some more work on what my old mentor Semmelweis was on to. I think there’s a connection between those microscopic creatures I told you about and infection. A lot to do, and I’m looking forward to it, by damn.”
“But who’s going to run the medical service?” Andrew asked.
“Hell, without a war we won’t need what we had, thank the Almighty. But I’ve got a replacement already picked,” and he pointed into the car, “and she’s in there. She’ll tell you all about it, and something else as well.”
He grinned and climbed down from the car. Pat O’Donald grabbed hold of him, pulling out a flask, and the two shared a drink until they were picked up by the crowd and swept away.
Andrew climbed up the platform and onto the train. Kathleen was standing inside the car, to his delight wearing the one dress she still had from Earth, Maddie asleep in her arms in spite of the turmoil outside. Beside her was a small trunk, holding in it the few possessions they had taken with them into exile.
He went up to her almost hesitantly, not having seen her for over a month. Maddie stirred and he kissed her lightly on the forehead, and then Kathleen set the baby down to sleep on one of the chairs.
Andrew pulled her in close, kissing her, the two of them laughing, and then he held her tight.
“Welcome home, Kathleen darling.”
“Our house?”
“Dusty, some windows broken, but still there.”
She smiled.
“We’re really safe, it’s over with?”
“It’s over, they’re gone. It’ll be years before we ever hear of their likes again, maybe even never.”
“Thank God.”
“I heard about your promotion to chief surgeon.”
She laughed as he stepped back to salute her formally, and then she was back in his arms.
“Let’s go out and join the celebration.”
“I don’t think so,” she whispered shyly, looking up at him.
“Why not?”
“The crowds and all the pushing. I’ve got to be careful.”
He felt his heart skip over.
“A baby?” he whispered.
She smiled and nodded.
He held her close to his side, and together they went out to the back platform to watch as the crowd cheered and sang, and wept with joy. And over them floated the flags of the regiments.
Above them all, Colonel Andrew Lawrence Keane saw two standards that seemed somehow to float above the others—the flag of the Army of the Republics, and beside it, shining in the glory of a new day, the faded colors of the 35th Maine.
William R. Forstchen
www.onesecondafter.com
www.dayofwrathbook.com
www.spectrumliteraryagency.com/forstchen.htm
William R. Forstchen is the author of over forty books, has a Ph.D. in history from Purdue University and is a Faculty Fellow at Montreat College. His broad spectrum of writing includes science fiction and fantasy, historical fiction, alternate history, several scholarly works, numerous short stories and articles and near-future thrillers ONE SECOND AFTER, ONE YEAR AFTER, THE FINAL DAY, and PILLAR TO THE SKY.
Books by William R. Forstchen
ONE SECOND AFTER
ONE YEAR AFTER
THE FINAL DAY
PILLAR TO THE SKY
WE LOOK LIKE MEN OF WAR
Lost Regiment series
RALLY CRY
UNION FOREVER
TERRIBLE SWIFT SWORD
FATEFUL LIGHTNING
BATTLE HYMN
NEVER SOUND RETREAT
A BAND OF BROTHERS
MEN OF WAR
DOWN TO THE SEA
Star Voyager Academy series
STAR VOYAGER ACADEMY
ARTICLE 23
PROMETHEUS
ICE PROPHET
THE FLAME UPON THE IDE
A DARKNESS UPON THE ICE
INTO THE SEA OF STARS
The Gamester Wars series
THE ALEXANDRIAN RING
THE ASSASSIN GAMBIT
THE NAPOLEON WAGER
Novellas, available online
"Doctors of the Night"
"Day of Wrath"
With Newt Gingrich
THE BATTLE OF THE CRATER
VALLEY FORGE
TO TRY MEN’S SOULS
PEARL HARBOR
DAYS OF INFAMY
NEVER CALL RETREAT
GETTYSBURG
1945
With Raymond Feist
HONORED ENEMY
With Greg Morrison
CRYSTAL WARRIORS
Star Trek: The Next Generation
THE FORGOTTEN WAR
Magic: The Gathering
ARENA
Wing Commander series
ACTION STATIONS
FALSE COLORS
FLEET ACTION
HEART OF THE TIGER
THE PRICE OF FREEDOM
END RUN with Christopher Stasheff
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
About the Author
Books by William R. Forstchen
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
About the Author
Books by William R. Forstchen
Fateful Lightning Page 42
