Beyond Armageddon: Book 03 - Parallels (15 page)

            "Forest?"

Gordon said, "Captain Nina Forest. She’s the commanding officer of the Dark Wolves."

            "I know that name."

            "Yes you do," Jon tried desperately to gain control over the conversation. "Nina was one of the original band of survivors. She and Shep came to the estate those first few months."

            Gordon continued, "The reports are a little sketchy and, well, convoluted. We know that Captain Forest and her unit disappeared while on mission. Trevor, General Shepherd, and Reverend Johnny took in a follow up team to find them."

            "Wait a second," she interrupted. "Johnny, too?"

            Jon felt things spiraling further out of control.

            Ashley turned to him. "Reverend Johnny is missing, too? Trevor took Johnny all the way out to Ohio, met up with Shepherd who came all the way from—what?—Kentucky—"

            "Tennessee," Jon Brewer corrected.

            "Okay, Tennessee, and they went off searching for a couple of missing soldiers?"

            "Nina, listen--" Jon stopped. Had he really just said that? "Sorry. I mean, Ashley, listen. Shepherd will be back soon. Until then we really don’t know exactly what happened."

            Ashley stared at him.

            Jon reached for his jacket hanging on the back of a chair and repeated, "When Shep gets here we’ll all sit down and sort this out. In the meantime, General Hoth is pushing west to secure the area. We’ll be sending in all sorts of specialists to find out what happened. We’ll find him, Ashley. We’ll find Trevor."

            She added, "And Reverend Johnny, too."

            "And Johnny, yes."

            "And Nina Forest and her soldiers."

            Jon shook his head, "No, they’re on their way…"

            Brewer stopped again, caught like a deer in headlights. He closed his eyes and then finished because he could not do otherwise. "They let everyone go except Trevor and Reverend Johnny. Captain Forest and her unit have returned to duty."

            "I see."

            He heard the tone in her voice.

Something is going on here; something you’re not telling me.

            Brewer slipped his jacket on fast and escaped from the room.

---

            Evan knew he did not look good wearing safety goggles. Not Dukakis-in-the-tank bad, but certainly on the geeky side. However, on this day he traded image for substance. Sort of.

            He followed Omar Nehru through the large, long building and up a set of short but steep metal stairs to a platform. A gaggle of media—wearing geeky goggles as well—waited on the plant floor below like a crowd gathering for a rock concert.

            As bulbs flashed, Evan sensed an opportunity. He turned and lent a helping hand up the steep stairs to the third member of his party, Jim Hutch, a burly man with side burns who sweat profusely.

            "There you go, Jim."

            "Thank you, Senator Godfrey."

            "Now that won’t due, Jim. That won’t do at all. Call me Evan."

            "You should be coming over this way, so as to get the best view," Omar directed in a loud voice. He had to speak loud because the machines that filled the massive industrial center drown out most conversation.

            Omar's tour took the men to a big long cylinder set horizontally on thick support struts. Gauges, controls, hoses, wires, and all manner of mechanisms dotted the surface of the thing. At one end a funnel-like orifice; at the other an arched opening feeding onto a conveyor belt.

            From front to back the machine stretched nearly fifty yards with the diameter of a railroad tanker car.

            Evan addressed the crowd more so than Omar as he said, "This matter-maker is much larger than the one we discovered back during the first year. I remember when you and I got our first good look at one of these."

            "Um, yes, of course," Omar would not challenge Evan's historical revisionism.

            Hutch turned his nose up and grunted, "Damn ugly thing. Looks grimy and what's that smell? Geez, smells like something rotting."

            "It is an industrial-capacity matter transfiguration machine," Omar came across as defensive. "Given the variety of substances pushed through its workings it does develop an unpleasant odor, which is a side effect that cannot be helped."

            Evan sensed Omar's temperature rising, although the edge in his voice might be as much due to a lack of a cigarette as anything else. Whatever the case, Evan interceded, "So, tell me Omar, how much do we understand about the workings of this contraption?"

            "What we have learned has come from what you might say 'trial and error.' We have developed a comprehensive list of what materials can be created. We also have several theories as to exactly how this process is completed, but so far have been unable to duplicate the process with human technology."

            Evan summarized, "So you know what it does but not why."

            Hutch wiped perspiration from this forehead with his arm and suggested, "Why not just rip the thing apart and study its insides."

            Omar's eyes bulged and his lips trembled as he nearly shouted, "Because we only have so many of these machines and the entire industrial output of our nation is dependent upon them. We could not risk losing output capacity."

            Senator Godfrey rested an arm on Nehru's shoulder. "So, um, what's next on the tour?"

            Omar heaved a deep breath and led the men across the scaffold toward the input end.

"As you will see here, at this point here in goes raw materials for metamorphosis."

On cue, a crane tipped a large bucket and a dark-colored substance oozed into the receptacle. A terrible new smell drifted across the gathered VIPs and their media entourage.

"What is that shit?" Jim Hutch found this new smell worse than the first.

"I must be apologizing for the nastiness of this odor. Our technicians have now been pouring garbage sludge into the maker."

"I see," Evan waved a hand over his nose half-heartily.

A few of the gathered reporters laughed.

"Now what happens?"

Omar walked alongside the machine as if following the sludge on its unseen journey. He answered the Senator as they walked. "All of the conversions have been set in advance. It is much consuming of time to complete the equations. As the input materials move through the cylinder, the machine breaks the sludge into its basic building blocks on a level molecular."

The cylinder vibrated, creating a sound similar to an overtaxed washing machine.

"And at this time the sludge is becoming a mass of atoms. Those atoms will then be slowly changed into the new configuration we have selected for them."

"This is fascinating, Omar. Fascinating," Evan made sure any audio recorders caught a tone of familiarity in his voice as he spoke to the Empire's leading scientific mind. Certainly anyone listening could tell these two were old buddies going back to the early days.

"You cannot be seeing from this position, but on the side away from us there be a waste byproduct basin. It is there that excess materials are collected. From those materials we create the so-called ‘pinballs’ that our army people will use in combating Shadows."

"Shadows?" Jim Hutch spoke between heavy huffs. "Those are nasty bastards."

Omar pointed to a segment in the cylinder thicker than the rest of the machine.

"As transformation occurs it is making much in radiation."

Evan suppressed a natural instinct to step away from the machine at the mention of 'radiation.' Meanwhile, Omar continued with the tour.

"And here you can be seeing the end result."

Technicians pulled bins from a compartment. Those bins carried a pale yellow liquid from the machine that emitted a fruity bouquet.

Evan acted like a kid on Christmas morning, "Absolutely wonderful! And exactly what is it you have produced today?"

Omar answered, "This substance is being Undecylenic Acid."

Evan seized the moment and suggested to Omar and the press, "No doubt a powerful weapon for use against hostiles such as Proto-Masses and Crawling Tube Worms!"

Omar corrected, "Actually, undecylenic acid is an ingredient in anti-fungal applications."

Evan’s smile faded a hair.

Hutch's eyes widened and he said, "Oh, yeah, like for athletes foot and jock itch."

"Well, I, um, see," Evan stumbled, but not very far.

With the demonstration complete, the half-dozen reporters shot questions from below the raised platform.

"Senator Godfrey, I see you’re touring this facility with Mr. Hutch. Does that mean you’re endorsing the idea of a laborer’s guild?"

Evan felt Hutch’s eyes and ears await his response.

"We are in a new world but there are some ideas from the old that are still applicable. I support Jim and his efforts to organize industrial workers, cargo handlers, and transportation drivers. I think the result will be a better work force and an improved quality of life."

Flash bulbs popped as Evan turned and shook Jim’s grateful hand.

Another question followed, "Senator, your colleagues appear ready to elect you President of the Senate later this week. How do you react to the news and do you worry that your position on the Emperor's advisory panel would then create a conflict of interest?"

Evan nodded as he heard the question, rubbed his chin as if contemplating deep thoughts, then responded, "First, let me say that I am honored my colleagues are considering me for President. Second, I believe my constituents know that my interests are never conflicted."

            It is possible that those were the truest words Evan Godfrey ever spoke…

            …Evan relaxed in his hotel room at the Atlanta Hilton and Towers, the only hotel in town operating in a manner even vaguely resembling the pre-Armageddon world. No maids, of course, and no sheets or swimming pool or bar. But he did have a penthouse view of Atlanta

            The afternoon sun glittered through the windows while Godfrey hovered over a laptop computer putting the finishing touches on a speech he was to give at the train station that evening. It was all a part of his strategy to document every step in his journey from Washington, to New Winnabow, to Atlanta, and then back to Washington.

            He billed it as a pilgrimage into the hearts and lives of the citizens of The Empire; a chance to show his credentials as a man of the people.

            It kicked off with laying a wreath at the memorial in New Winnabow, then a show of gratitude to the garrison at Columbia, South Carolina. He spent three hours fishing off the coast of Savannah because fishermen deserved recognition for their work. On a farm he sheered sheep because people were cold up north that winter.

            Then came Atlanta and Jim Hutch.

            Godfrey saw Hutch as a disgusting, brute of a man. But that man was on the cutting edge of a new labor movement and, most likely, the cutting edge of the rebirth of organized crime.

The matter-maker had been a nice backdrop, the presence of Omar Nehru a means of impressing Hutch with Evan’s own connections; a reminder that he could build bridges.

            Next he would go to the train station to recognize the challenges the railway workers faced; they had the third most dangerous civilian job in The Empire, you know.

            "Ah, that’s it," a great line came to mind and he typed frantically on the keyboard but an interruption came in the form of a ringing phone.

            He grumbled and answered, "This is Evan Godfrey."

            "Is it really? Not
the
Evan Godfrey who has been all over the news. Did you know that on NBN you got more coverage than the Ohio front? Of course you know that."

            The phone connection carried over a combination of hard lines and old cell towers but despite the static and distance, Evan recognized the voice.

            "Hello, officer Roos. How are you this afternoon?"

Ray Roos, one of Dante Jones’ lieutenants in Internal Security and the top I.S. officer at the Imperial mansion. He had risen in the ranks without Trevor or Dante or anyone else realizing that Roos served as a conduit for information to Evan Godfrey. Information that had helped Evan make the right moves, the right decisions, and say the right words in advancing his interests.

            If Ray took the time and hassle of making the necessary connections to reach Evan Godfrey in Atlanta it must be important. Evan listened close because Ray's words usually only framed the message.

"I am doing very well, thank you for asking, Senator. You’ll have to excuse the interruption. I figure you’ve got a lot to be doing down there."

            Godfrey responded, "As a Senator it’s important that I stay visible. The people have to know that we’re getting things done."