Beyond Armageddon IV: Schism

by DeCosmo, Anthony

  "Where are we?"

  Cape May now, heading south. We'll be over water in a minute. But I think…oh shit."

  Tones burst from the console. A flashing light warned of calamity.

  Hauser translated, "We've got incoming. Three. Damn it, heat lock and radar lock. Shit!"

  Nina felt the transport accelerate. She saw an expression of grim determination on the pilot's face. The new thrust—from Eagle One's modified boosters—pushed her into the chair.

  "Hold on…activating counter measures. Chaff away!"

  A burst of radar-inhibiting particles dropped from Eagle One's undercarriage, fooling the first of the incoming missiles. It veered away, eventually landing in a long-abandoned coastal neighborhood.

  Nina slipped on the duplicate pair of navigation goggles to follow the action. The view astounded her: she saw a night-vision enhanced image of the space in front of the Eagle and, as she turned her head, saw the area all around, including the glint of fire coming from two more inbound missiles.

  A symbol on the goggles' display blinked 'heat defeat' as Hauser activated another counter-measure. Flares fell from the craft, pulling the heat seeker into the water below as the New Jersey coastline faded behind.

  One more...

  Nina saw the missile zoom closer…closer. The warning chimes blared. Hauser grunted.

  More chaff. More countermeasures.

  BAM!

  The Eagle rocked side to side as the warhead hit high on the spine of the ship throwing Nina from her chair. Her goggles fell off. She saw a thunderstorm of sparks and electrical bolts engulf the pilot's side. Flames shot out from the side panels. Hauser slumped in his restraints.

  She scrambled over, pulled an emergency fire extinguisher, and doused flames. Then she shook his body while also feeling for a pulse, which she found, but Hauser remained unconscious.

  Nina sat on her knees on the grating between the two seats. Beyond the thin windshield she saw only darkness as the fast-moving craft began to descend toward the harsh waters of the Atlantic. The Eagle would be torn to pieces on impact.

  She gazed at the empty co-pilot's chair. The controls there appeared undamaged. But who would fly the ship?

  I will.

  Her palms grew sweaty; her heart beat hard as adrenaline pumped into her veins.

  Nina cautiously returned to the chair, unsure of how or why she felt she could conjure such a miracle. Yet as she fixed the goggles over her head…as she gazed at the control panel and took hold of the sticks on either arm of the chair…things appeared, just a little, familiar.

  For the first few seconds she gently maneuvered the pistol-grip sticks. Her feet worked the pedals to stabilize altitude. Each action rocked the craft clumsily, but the ship did steady.

  How can I do this? This is not possible!

  She gauged at the altimeter: fifty feet, practically skimming the Atlantic, certainly under the radar net cast by the pursuing Chrysaor. No doubt that dreadnought would soon launch fighters for a detailed search.

  Still, Nina faced more immediate concerns. She managed to steady the transport and keep it on course, but could she change that course? If not they would be easy to find, regardless of darkness or altitude.

  With full fuel tanks range would not be a problem, but where to go? And they had to go somewhere. While the damage from the missile strike appeared contained, Gordon required medical attention that would not attract Internal Security.

  She first thought of Shep. The Southern Command Headquarters lay to the southwest of their position. She could fly them across Delaware Bay and be there in a short time. With Ashley's testimony—

  No.

  That's the first place they would look. Ashley would not have the opportunity to testify before the public, a judge, the press, or whatever. Nina doubted they could make it into Annapolis air space. The conspiracy surrounding the apparent assassination of Trevor Stone stretched from the new President to the aliens known as The Order and throughout the Internal Security apparatus. Such a conspiracy had the means to defend itself. She envisioned mobile Internal Security Anti-Air batteries sent to the Highland Beach coast with orders to shoot any incoming transports on sight. If that were not enough, certainly Captain Kaufman would order her jets to sweep the area between the Eagle's last known position and the coast.

  Her head swirled, not from the enhanced night vision of the goggles but from the scope of the task before her. Ashley's son kidnapped, Gordon Knox dying, and Trevor Stone…alive?

  Maybe.

  They needed to hide where Gordon could be looked after and where she could contact people who could expose the conspirators and knock Evan Godfrey from his perch.

  Nina pulled off the goggles and consulted a small monitor screen displaying an electronic map. Her hands and feet wobbled but held the craft on course a few meters above the ocean. Rain drops splashed on the windshield that seemed pointed at a wall of black.

  She scanned the map and considered. As she reached a conclusion, the bulkhead to the cockpit slid open and Ashley walked in. The first lady of The Empire rushed to Hauser.

  "What hit us?"

  "A missile."

  Hauser stirred.

  "Rich looks like he'll be okay," Ashley said. "But Gordon needs help, fast."

  "I know."

  Ashley knelt alongside Nina in the co-pilot's chair.

  "How long have you been flying these?"

  Nina said, "As far as I know, today is the first time."

  Ashley’s eyes bulged.

  Nina went on, "I've thought of somewhere for us to go; someone for us to meet up with."

  "Can you trust this person?"

  Nina thought about the days she had spent fighting the Hivvans in North Carolina. She thought about Mutants taking hostages, about clearing Wilmington at the head of a massive Hunter-Killer team, and about meeting Denise for the first time. She thought about other things, too. Things that once held promise only to turn to disappointment.

  "I hope so."

  ---

  Dawn came but with no fanfare; a ceiling of gray clouds remained stuck overhead in a gloomy quilt, turning the sun from bright to dull like light hidden behind curtains. The rain still fell but with little enthusiasm; nothing more than a soft drizzle sprinkling into puddles remaining from the night's more impressive downpours.

  Jim Brock crossed the living room of his small home, careful not to wake the sleeping baby in the first bedroom or the teenager in the second.

  His biological clock did not allow him to sleep in, not on a day that promised a lot of activity. The Wrightsville Beach Community Club had scheduled a cleanup along the south beaches in the morning and Jim planned to attend a luncheon of 'Concerned Citizens' to discuss the changing political landscape and, of course, to celebrate the end of the war.

  On top of that came the needs of an eight-month-old daughter as well as a fourteen-year-old boy, and Jim had promised his wife a Friday night break from diaper changes so she could attend practice with the newly formed Wilmington Oratorio Society.

  As hectic as his scheduled sounded it did qualify as a "normal life," the idea of which once seemed a fantasy in a world where aliens occupied most of the globe, monsters lurked in the swamps to the south, and where a young man had crowned himself Emperor and sent his armies marching off to re-conquer the world.

  Brock had often told his day care kids in the old world and his students in the new one that two wrongs did not make a right. That and the usual, ‘the ends do not justify the means.'

  Thoughts of Emperors and Empires drifted through his mind as he examined the front page of the North Carolina Reporter. He read the Reporter and not the Wilmington News because he found the latter to be far too militaristic.

  Brock shook his head in disappointment as he sipped hot tea at the breakfast counter and glanced over the stories on the front page.

  FUGITIVES AT LARGE; REWARD OFFERED.

  SECRETARY'S DEATH LINKED TO DISGRUNTLED MILITARY AND INTELLIGEN
CE OPERATIVES.

  PRESIDENT ASSURES NATION SECURE.

  FINANCIAL MARKETS WAVER IN CONCERN OVER POLITICAL STABILITY.

  "Some people just don't know how to live without war," he thought between sips.

  A series of soft thuds interrupted his musings over headlines, politics, and conspiracies. He realized those thuds came from his front door. Knocks, actually.

  Brock set his mug on the counter top and gazed at the door curiously. He knew the people of Wrightsville Beach liked to attack the day early, but so soon after dawn?

  Nonetheless, he stepped from the kitchen, crossed the living room, and opened the front door. Outside, the rain splashed intermittently on the long sidewalk curving through a landscaped lawn with a stone garden and a small but well-trimmed dogwood tree.

  In his doorway stood a woman covered in drizzle, her curly blond hair matted flat and a waterlogged ponytail drooping behind to her shoulder blades. She wore a soldier's uniform and carried a rifle.

  The sound of a visitor stirred Jim's wife awake. The petite brunette drifted into the living room tying a powder blue robe while trying to suppress a yawn. She squinted and, when seeing a soldier, asked in a voice one part annoyance and one part fear: "What is this, Jim?"

  Brock stared at the blue eyes he had once found very mysterious. Yet what surprised him most of all was not her appearance at his front door, but how her shoulders slumped and how those mysterious blue eyes struggled to stay awake. He recalled her to be a confident, strong woman but on that morning in the rain at his door step she appeared anything but.

  "Nina?"

  The woman at the door muttered humbly, "Hello, Jim."

  23. Schism

  Jon Brewer stood behind the desk staring out the closed balcony doors down at the front lawn. He saw a pair of K9 sentries walking the fence, one of his wife's assistants driving out the main gate, and a hot July sun reflecting off the lake

  He spoke into the phone, "Dante, I'm in the dark out here. Maple's dead, Gordon was dead and now he might not be? You want me to report any contact with Captain Nina Forest because you think she's up to something and two of her team are under arrest on suspicion of anti-government activities? Things are going on and you're not filling me in. I don't like it."

  Dante's voice wavered across the long connection stretching from Washington D.C., to the lakeside estate in northeast Pennsylvania.

  "Jon, man, relax. You know as much as I do."

  "Really? Do I? Wow. That's a real pile you're trying to shovel at me. The newspapers seem to know something. Half of them are talking about some kind of military coup in the works. Well let me tell you, I am the military and there's no such thing going on. Something stinks. And I'm getting pissed off at sitting out here all alone. I'm getting pissed off with having nothing but paperwork getting thrown at me."

  "Hey, whoa, easy Jon. Here are the facts. Someone kidnapped Maple down here in D.C., back on the first. Three days later he turns up dead outside of Trevor's tomb up there in your neck of the woods. Those two guys from Nina's team were a part of that. They aren't saying' much."

  "I want to talk to them."

  That took Dante off guard. He stumbled. "No, hey, I mean Roos has got them in a high-security spot interrogating them."

  "Those two men are military. Ultimately they're under my command."

  "I'll talk to Evan."

  "What's he got to do with it?" Jon's anger—his first real wave of anger since long before Trevor's death—grew. He could almost hear his wife suggesting he watch his temper.

  No, this is one case where she would want me to lose my temper.

  Jon went on, "I thought this was about not having one man in charge? You’re telling me that I can't talk to my soldiers without Evan's approval?"

  "Hey, easy does it, Jon. I understand, man. I hear you. But there are a lot of people talking a lot of shit. Some folks say they saw Gordon Knox alive again, that he was with Nina Forest. What's that make you think, Jon? What do you think Evan thinks about all this? He sees Knox still alive, maybe, and running with military people who were close to Trevor and then one of Evan's Secretaries ends up dead. Don't know about you, but I'm starting to wonder if there aren't some people cooking something up."

  "I'm coming to Washington," Jon said. "Out here I'm no good. There's no one left except me and my wife and a couple of paper-pushers."

  Paper weights.

  "I'll talk to E—" Dante caught himself. "Okay, look, we'll set something up. If you come bursting in here out of the blue that could send the wrong signal. Let me set something up and I'll get back to you in a few days. Just sit tight, Jon. It hasn't been that long. Things have to, you know, settle down."

  "Yeah, right," Jon's tone suggested he knew no such thing.

  "Look, I'll talk to you in a day or two. Might be a good idea for the President to meet with all of us again, especially you and some of the other commanders. You know, to show we're all on the same team."

  "Are we, Dante? I'm starting to wonder if I did the right thing."

  "Yeah, man, you did the right thing," the Secretary of Defense said. "Just relax."

  Click.

  Jon stared at the dead receiver for a moment before hanging up. He then kicked a small garbage can, sending it tumbling across the room. The metallic clang echoed through the empty halls of the mansion.

  ---

  Dante stormed into the West Wing arriving at the Oval Office at the same time the door to that office opened. The President stood there, ushering out two gentlemen, one portly the other tall and thin.

  "I don't understand how you can do this," the portly man complained. "I was the legally appointed Governor."

  "Appointed by Trevor Stone," the President clarified while maintaining a smile. "He is gone, and all of his edicts are null and void. On behalf of our new nation and on behalf of the people I can rescind any unilateral decisions he made."

  "But you have no right!"

  "I have every right. We are in a transitional period. You will find that my decision on this will be enforced by both Internal Security and the military. It would be best if you accept this change quietly, for the good of the nation. Now I expect you to vacate the Governor's residence by tomorrow afternoon or you will be arrested for trespassing."

  The tall, thin and newly-appointed Governor tried to suppress his emotions but a cocky grin tugged at the sides of his mouth. Conversely, the portly man grew a darker shade of red.

  "You can't do this. You have no legal grounds!"

  Evan's smile turned to a scowl. "I have the authority and power to enforce this decision. It would be best for you and your family not to make this into an incident."

  The dismissed politician huffed and barged away.

  President Godfrey turned to the tall, thin man and said, "If he gives you any problems, call Director Roos at I.S. In the meantime, congratulations. I know I can count on you."

  The new appointee grinned and walked off with a bounce in his step.

  Evan noticed Dante and frowned, but in the span of a half-second caught himself and turned that frown into a welcoming smile.

  "Mister Secretary, what can I do for you?"

  "We need to talk."

  "Yes, we always seem to need to talk. Well, come in, Dante. I have a few minutes."

  Evan led them into the Oval Office. As soon as the door shut behind them, Dante jumped on Evan in a panicked voice, "Things are coming apart!"

  "What? Wait a second, Dante. Relax. Take a deep breath."

  "I can't relax! I just got off the phone with Jon Brewer. He knows something is up. He's starting to think he shouldn't have handed it all over to you. I'm starting to wonder that myself."

  "Easy, easy. Things are not coming apart. Things are under control."

  "How can you say that? You sit here in the White House like it's some kind of bunker or something. When is the last time you went out there to see what's going on? Do you know there are Senators who are talking about impeachment because
you haven't put together that Constitutional committee yet?"

  "There are always malcontents. But listen, Dante, it hasn't even been a month since I took power. People have to be patient."

  Jones pleaded, "But you haven't done anything! No movement on elections. You haven't appointed anyone to work on a new constitution. And now you’re appointing Governors; the same type of thing Trevor was doing that we were against!"

  Evan did not appear to hear. He took Dante by surprise as he redirected: "I know why you're so worried. It's because Knox and Forest are out there running around still. I admit Roos has not done nearly as good a job as I had hoped. He's a bit of a disappointment. Still, I think I can solve this. We need to bring this to an end. Captain Forest has a daughter, does she not?"

  "W-what? Huh?"

  "She has a daughter, right?"

  Dante blinked as he absorbed the change in direction. "Um, yeah I think so."

  "And she's very close to General Shepherd. And those commandos we arrested in Wilkes-Barre were under his command, just like she is, right? Well, I've told Ray to arrest Shepherd and bring him in for questioning. He may be behind this whole conspiracy."

  "Wait a sec…"

  "There's nothing we can do about Knox except put him down like a sick dog when we get him. But Forest…I'm going to have Roos pick up her daughter. Maybe that will pull her to us."

  "You want to kidnap her daughter?"

  "It makes sense," Godfrey coolly calculated. "She's been on the run but that will bring her out of hiding. If we get her, Knox, and Shep we've got a real front-page story about a conspiracy. Of course, they won't give up without a fight I expect. All the better."

  "You're crazy," Dante's mouth gaped. "I can't believe this. How didn't I see this before?"