Prometheus and the Dragon (Atlas and the Winds Book 2) (43 page)

“Why are you here?” Sylvia said. “I thought I gave everyone the next few days off.”

“Actually, I don’t know why I’m here,” she said. “I really didn’t have anywhere else to go, and I thought you might need someone here with you.”

“What about your family?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you be with them?” She watched her composure slip for an instant, like her face snapped out of focus for less than the time it takes to blink an eye.

“Families and politics are often mutually exclusive,” she said.

“Surely you have someone?” she said, ashamed that she didn’t know her personal secretary had no family.

“They’ve all headed inland for the event,” she said, setting her purse down on her desk. “My brother has a farm in Wisconsin, so they’re all going there.”

“Why aren’t you going with them?” she asked. “It has to be safer than staying here.”

“Are you going to Mount Weather?” she challenged, knowing full well the President intended to stay in the White House.

She grinned. “I still have a few things I need to do around here.”

“So, I’ll help you do them,” Janice said. “This is my place and I’m proud to be here as long as you will have me.”

“Thank you,” she said, having trouble with her voice. Fortunately the phone interrupted.

Janice snapped it up off the desk, her voice as professional as usual. “White House, Office of the President.” She paused for several seconds, then said, “Yes, she’s standing with me right here, please hold Mr. Vice ... excuse me ... Chancellor Rogers.”

Sylvia winked at her and pushed open the heavy door to her office. She left it open and headed over to her chair.

“Good morning, Dick. How goes the conference?” she asked, holding her voice artificially buoyant. She waited for the lag.

“Excellent Sylvia,” he said. “Kuromori’s been a real asset to the process. I think we’ll be signing a treaty in the next day or so.” His voice sounded enthusiastic.

“Great news,” she said. “Have you told John yet?”

“Not yet,” he said. “It’s still your Ship of State, and I thought if anyone had a right to some good news, it was you.”

“Thanks,” she said, feeling some of the clouds lifting from her soul. “I wonder if he’d mind if I made the announcement?”

“If he does, I’ll personally come down there and kick his ass,” Dick said. As much as she needed to have him by her side right now, having him assault the President-Elect might not be enough of a reason to get him here.

“I sure hope the Secret Service isn’t listening in,” she said, looking up as Janice appeared at the door with coffee and two mugs.

“That’s ok, they can’t reach me up here,” Dick laughed. “It’s a damn big moat we’ve got.”

“So, you’ve really got a workable treaty put together?” she asked, nodding for Janice to have a seat.

“Yes ma’am, from cooperative trade and mutual support, to a realistic grievance and arbitration clause,” he said. “All we’ve got to do is work out the wording on a few items and we’ll be ready to sign it.”

“This is amazing news,” she said. “Send me a copy of the working document and I’ll start on my announcement speech.”

“It’s already in your inbox,” he said.

“Thank you, Dick,” she said. “You’ve always come through for me. I don’t know how we could have done it without you.”

“Hmmmph,” he snorted. “I’ve just been trying to live up to your standards, Sylvia. I should be thanking you.”

“Call me once it’s done so I can make the announcement,” she said, changing the subject before it got heavy.

“Yes ma’am” he said, breaking the connection from his end.

“Janice,” she said, “I don’t think I’ve got a speechwriter in today. Want to give me a hand?”

“I’ve never written a speech,” she said.

“That makes two of us,” Sylvia said, grinning.

***

Stormhaven:

“The Most High Reverend Nathaniel Sommerset has, through divine inspiration, been told to give you twenty-four hours to repent of your sins against God Almighty.” The man stood in the center of the small group holding the cross above his head like a banner proclaiming his holiness.

Tom glanced over his shoulder at Doug Shapiro, who looked like he couldn’t decide between laughing or shooting someone. He hand twitched near his gun, and Tom flashed back to how the agent had looked on his first day, trying to storm the gates. He stifled a grin, realizing the delegation in front of him might misinterpret his expression.

“And what sins are those, of which we are supposed to be guilty?” he asked, keeping a straight face. The man glanced up at the two mono-carbon minies, looking almost as nervous as Shapiro. Of course it didn’t hurt that they had full-sized gravity lasers mounted on them. The guns were almost as big as the tiny ships, and without a doubt made the otherwise inoffensive utility vehicle look like a serious war machine. They’d rigged six of them in the last week, three to leave behind and three that were mounted on the Archangels.

“Hubris, defiance of God’s will, immorality—"

“Excuse me?” Tom interrupted, using his best courtroom voice. “Immorality? How would you know about our moral behavior?”

“It is the judgment of the Most High Reverend, that you have conducted yourselves in defiance of God’s law,” he said, some of his pious pomposity crumbling before Tom’s glare. Obviously he hadn’t expected to have to talk.

“Judgment. What an interesting word for you to use. Doesn’t it say in the Bible to ‘Judge not, lest ye be judged?’ Therefore, I put to you, perhaps your Most High Reverend might be better off practicing discernment, and leaving judgment to God.” Tom shrugged innocently. Beside him Shapiro opted for laughter over bloodshed.

“You should show humility before the Army of the Holy Right,” the cross bearer bellowed, rage replacing rational thought. “Your day of judgment is at hand. He has measured you and He has found you lacking.”

“Really?” Tom said, taking a single step forward. It was a cue to the minies above them. “It is you who have been found lacking. In common sense.” At that, the group floated slowly off the ground, their feet struggling for earth before the oscillation of the gravity lasers robbed them of neurological control, and their consciousness, in the next instant.

The look of abject terror in their eyes before they passed out pulled a deep laugh out of the agent. “Oh my God,” he roared, “Is that how I looked when you guys fucked with me?”

“Pretty much,” Tom said, grinning and heading back toward the front entrance. For all it was fun, he knew they’d just thrown down the gauntlet in what would be their last battle.

***

Unity Colony, Eastern Mare Frigoris:

Helen Troianne was subdued when she came to the table. “Before we begin,” she said, sitting down and resting her hands on the smooth surface in front of her, “I think I should tell you the situation in Europe. The hemorrhagic virus has taken Rome, Venice, and all of Italy with the exception of Sicily. Southern France is starting to show the effects of the disease as well. It is working its way through the Alps and is expected to have reached Germany before morning. There are reports of it in the Balkans and throughout southern Russia as well. To the east, it has already swept the population centers of Afghanistan and Pakistan, and although there are no reports of it in India, there are remote regions that most likely have already succumbed to the disease.”

She paused for several seconds, taking a deep breath, her face showing the pain she felt. “The EU has just issued a statement claiming evidence that they believe the disease is airborne, and can be transmitted by many animals. This makes it likely that it is only a matter of time before it spreads across the Eurasian continent. At present there is no known way to guard against it, nor is there a cure. Officials in the UK have destroyed the Chunnel in the hopes of keeping it from reaching England, but as some of the carriers may be birds, it is only a temporary defense at best.”

She paused again, closing her eyes and waiting several more seconds before she continued. “The estimated death toll at the present is over one hundred million, and may easily exceed one billion before Antu reaches Earth.”

“God help us,” Viki said.

“God has very little to do with it,” Jonathon Merrill said. “This was the act of madmen.”

“This was the act of the very desperate. Of people who had lost all hope,” Ambassador Kuromori said, bowing his head as he spoke. “It is our task to remember these lessons as we move forward from here. It must be in our hearts to never let hope die again.”

“I can pledge my life to that without reservation,” Becki Czao whispered, bowing her head in silent prayer beside the Ambassador. Around the table, they all joined together, for once feeling the same purpose even across the distances that had divided them.

***

Oasis Colony Site, Rima Ariadaeus, South of Lunagrad:

Thirteen martyrs had gone to Allah along the trail of their long march. Many more were weak from days of short supply and heavy exertion. Of them, at least one would not live until the domes were set up.

But fortune had graced them with the most astonishing of gifts they could have expected. They found a true oasis in this frozen desert, tucked under a ledge of rock thirty feet above the rille floor. They almost walked past it, a faint shimmering white frost that was nearly invisible against the pale gray lunar dust.

The sun had been settling toward the west and they knew they had little choice but to set up soon. Once the sun was gone, only one of the rovers would have power to move.

Assam Abdullah al Rashiq had been riding on the back of the large trailer, propped against the giant Mylar bags that would be their domes. He’d been staring up at the canyon wall, too tired to walk another step. He’d been the first among the outcasts to volunteer at every turn. He was the favored heir to Faruq’s command, when the time came to pass the reins, but he had paid dearly for his enthusiasm, and his body had finally betrayed him. Playing a handbeam into the shadows looking for caves, he still had something he could contribute. Fortunately, his eyes were as keen as ever.

“What’s that up there?” he said, sitting up and pointing at an outcropping. They had hope, since the rille valley had once been a lava tube, there would be tributary tunnels that still had openings out to the surface. They’d seen only two since they’d dropped into the narrow channel, and both had been too small to be useful. This one looked different. It was perhaps ten to twenty meters in diameter and the entire upper side of it almost glowed in the narrow searchlight.

Faruq al Hassien had been a hundred meters behind the caravan, trudging along trying to cut a deal with Allah for their deliverance. He’d kept his desperation to himself, spending much of his time with his mic shut off, muttering curses at the Russians and their relations for a hundred generations in each direction. When several lights focused on the same spot on the wall, it caught his attention. He saw the glowing white ceiling of the tunnel even from this distance.

“It looks like ice,” he heard Assam say.

“It is not possible. How would ice form there?” one of the other men challenged. “It is the wrong type of geology.”

“Maybe it was trapped in the lava itself,” another one said.

“And maybe it’s just a mirage,” someone else said.

“It’s probably not water in any case,” Assam said. “At this pressure, water boils below the point where it freezes. Most likely it’s carbon dioxide.”

“Whatever it is, break out the climbing gear.” Faruq said. “If the tunnel is large enough, then we need to explore it immediately. If it is ice, then we have been blessed twice.”

Six hours later they had not found the far end of the tube, and the white substance was looking more like ice as they went further back into the ground. So deeply did the tube extend they had to leave men periodically along the way to relay radio messages. The ice, or whatever it was, appeared to be embedded in a vein the tube had followed for kilometers through the crust.

After a half-day of exploration with no answers as to how ice could have formed, they took a sample of the white crystal. It had an odd, hard shell and once it had been broken with a hammer, a small puff of gas boiled out. Taking a chunk of the shell material and putting it into a clear plastic zipper bag, they brought it inside the small shelter. As it warmed it bubbled slightly and then thawed. Into liquid water.

Even if the ice hadn’t been water, they would have made this place their new home. That evening for the first time, they all unsuited together inside their still cold, but infinitely more comfortable, habitat dome.

Their prayers had been answered. Allah had delivered a secret oasis.

***

Chapter Twenty-Eight:

Miracles in the Mists

Stormhaven:

Shapiro had quit laughing by the time they got into the community. Mica met them at the door, so to speak.