Chapter Twenty One
Truth Revealed
Red stood in the laboratory surrounded by the security officers who had entered with him and stared at the place where the prototype vessel had been only seconds before.
That sonofabitch. How had he managed it? He'd never even considered that Issacson might activate the prototype vessel. There would be no finding him now.
But maybe that wasn't a complete loss. Running was almost as good as a confession as far as the security forces would be concerned, and not having him here certainly prevented him from becoming a loose end later on. The Board could have dealt with him if he'd tried to present some kind of problem, and no one would take the word of a killer seriously anyway, but in some ways maybe this was best.
He was already thinking of how this could be turned to his advantage. He would be Black again, now that Clisen was gone, and the rest of the Board would obey him without question. The certainty of his belief gave him strength.
Red turned towards the door to the lab and motioned for the security officers to join him. They'd set up a perimeter for a while as a precaution, but there was really no real need. Wherever Issacson had gone, Red was sure they'd seen the last of him.
He was just stepping through the doorway and into the hall when the room was suddenly filled with a brilliant white light.
Thomas stepped out of the vessel and found himself in a completely different room, facing a semi-circle of men with weapons pointed directly at him.
He held his hands up above his head as much as he could still shackled, and stood there staring at the men staring back at him.
It appeared to be some kind of laboratory, with computer terminals along one wall. Standing behind the armed men facing him was another man, who was unarmed but appeared to be in charge.
The tension was palpable as everyone waited for something to happen. After a moment, Thomas spoke out. “I have information. Doctor Issacson wanted me to give something to the security forces here.”
The man who was in charge spoke up. “Who are you? Where is Doctor Issacson?”
Thomas looked at him. “Issacson is dead. He appeared in the middle of a shootout and was murdered. Who are you?”
The man considered his question. “I am a member of the Board of Publius Valerius Publicola. I sit at Red. I ask again, who are you?”
Thomas started suddenly when the man named himself Red. “It was you! Issacson warned me about you! You killed him!”
Red was inwardly startled at the man's accusation. He really had spoken to Doctor Issacson. But he covered it quickly and yelled to the security officers. “Detain this man for questioning. He's an accomplice in the murder of a Board member.”
The guards began to move towards Thomas with their weapons still pointed in his direction, and Thomas knew that once he was their prisoner he'd never have a chance to escape. He cried out. “Wait! Issacson gave me proof. He said it's here on his badge!” With that he held out the identification badge towards the security officers, who stopped and considered his words.
Red barked another order. “Seize that badge. That's PVP property.”
Thomas countered him. “No! Issacson warned me that someone named Red would try to take the badge. It has proof of their crimes. You have to listen to me. Look at the badge, he said it recorded what happened.” He gestured towards Red. “If I'm right, and he's guilty, you can't risk letting him have this. If I'm wrong, you'll have me anyway with no more than a few seconds of your time wasted.
The commanding security officer considered his words, and then carefully reached out to take the badge. As soon as he had it in his hands, he motioned his men to seize Thomas. They made him sit on the floor while the commander turned towards one of the terminals.
Red moved to intercept him. “Commander, you aren't seriously considering this. This man is an accomplice in a murder, you can't believe what he says.”
The commander nodded his head. “You are probably right sir, none the less, I am bound to investigate.”
Red began to get nervous. “Commander, I am ordering you to turn that badge over to me immediately and remand this man into my custody.”
The commander looked Red in the eye. “I'm sorry sir, but I can't do that.” And with that he stepped past the Board member and inserted the identification badge into the terminal to activate the most recent recording.
“We seek not to prevent destruction. We seek to sow it.”
To Thomas, the holographic replay of the events recorded on the badge looked like ghosts of men.
“We will create a thousand Devastations, until the people who turned away from their governments and their leaders cry out to them for salvation. We will drive the people back crawling on their hands and knees begging for the protection of nation states. The puppets will dance again, and PVP will call the tune.”
Red took the gun back into his hands and calmly ejected the magazine. He checked it, reloaded the weapon and jacked a round into the chamber. “Thanks to you, we now have the power to change everything. And we can't allow you to jeopardize that.”
The ghost turned the weapon in his hand and pointed it at one of the men sitting next to him and pulled the trigger.
The image in front of him erupted into chaos as the other Board members reacted in horror to what had happened.
The commander spoke up. “Freeze image.” He then turned to face the men who had their weapons on Thomas. “Help that man to his feet. Remove those chains from his wrists and ankles.” While the security officers helped Thomas stand, the Commander turned to face Red.
“Sir. I am placing you under arrest for murder.”
Red laughed. “You aren't believing this man's lies are you?”
The commander nodded to his men who began to move towards the Board member. Red looked around him as though he could not believe what was happening. “Are you men mad? You can't arrest me! I'm a member of the Board!”
As the security officers dragged Red from the room the commander turned back to face Thomas, who now stood up straight, freed from his shackles.
“How can we help you sir?”
Thomas shook his head. “I only came to pass on the information that Issacson asked me to. Can you stop them? They said they would launch a thousand Devastations.”
The commander nodded back to him. “Don't worry. No one in the world wants a return to the Dark Time. Once word gets out that these men were trying to undo the Emancipation, they'll never work again. PVP may take a hit for a while, but the company will continue. Now that this information will be out there, their customers will demand stricter control over the Board however.”
Thomas nodded his head. “My wife. I have to get back to her. I need to take the vessel.”
The commander considered it for a moment. “You've done us all a great service. I think we can allow that.”
His men stepped back from Thomas who turned and began to climb back into the vessel and pull the door shut behind him.
The commander reached out and grabbed the door before he could close it. “What was your name son?”
Thomas looked back at him. “Thomas. My name is Thomas.”
The commander took his hand off the door and stood up straight, raising his hand into a salute. “Well Thomas, you're a real hero.”
Thomas smiled slightly to himself and answered back. “I'm a free man. Not a hero.”
He pulled the door shut and activated the transfer sequence once again.
Chapter Twenty Two
Getting Away
She had already decided she wouldn't leave. He'd promised he'd come back, and if he didn't she'd wait here until someone came and found her. She couldn't walk away from that spot, without Thomas, there was nowhere to go anyway.
She looked around the room at the carnage. There were bodies everywhere. The President she had voted for and campaigned for was dead. The man who made the videos that had strained her marriage was dead. The men who came to kill them and the men who had tried to protect the President were dead. The only two survivors were gone. She was alone.
Jennifer was numb. Her entire world had crashed and then her husband had disappeared in a flash of light. She was in chains in the bowels of a secret military prison and no one even knew. The system of governance that was supposed to protect her had betrayed her.
She looked over at the body of the man who was chianed to the chair he was sitting in. The man who had made the videos that had changed her husband's mind so thoroughly. What had he said that had made so much sense to Thomas? Was it because Tommy didn't believe in politics? Was that what had made him so receptive?
He had tried to explain it to her, but everything he said seemed so contrary to what she knew to be true that she couldn't believe him. Now everything she knew to be true was turned on its head. Now it was starting to make more sense.
Who were the men who had shot her husband and dragged them to this place? They were not men who were protecting her. They were not men interested in justice. They were not men who put the safety of the citizens before the safety of the state.
When Thomas came back, she'd ask him to explain it to her. This time she would listen. This time she'd put aside what she knew to be true, and listen for the sound of truth without prejudice.
Jennifer made these promises to herself. And every promise started with the words, “When Tommy comes back.” With each promise, she made herself believe that he would return. And she would wait until he did.
Jennifer sat there, surrounded by death, and decided what she would do with her life.
And then the room was flooded with a brilliant white light.
Gorsky made his way back to the surface, encountering very few soldiers or prisoners along the way. Most of the guards were either dead or holed up somewhere, most of the prisoners had already escaped or were lost in the maze of corridors that made up the prison facility.
When he returned to the gates that led into the facility he climbed into the front seat of the van that Imalt had driven them there in and started the engine. The prison transport vehicle that the guards had brought out was still parked next to it where it had been left.
He slowly backed the vehicle out of the prison and onto the road which led towards it, turning the wheel until the back tires came off the road and into the desert sand. He then turned the wheel back and pulled back onto the road and drove away from the facility.
When Gorsky saw the facility disappear from the mirror out the driver's side window, it had only been a little over an hour since they'd first stopped at the gate and Imalt had handed their orders to the prison guard.
Fourie had taken a different path. Gorsky had told him he was heading to the van, and while they may have agreed to separate peacefully, Fourie didn't want to test Gorsky's word.
So he followed the layout of the building he had memorized and made his way down to the vehicle depot. Once there, he stole a set of keys and climbed behind the wheel of a jeep fitted for desert terrain. He wouldn't be taking the road, too much chance of being intercepted that way, and it was only fifty miles through the desert to a small town where he could arrange for travel and egress from the country. He deserved a vacation anyway, a few days on the beach watching girls in bikinis would do him well.
The jeep roared out of the garage and onto the sand. He could see the prison transport vehicle ahead of him and the tracks from where Gorsky had driven off with the van. He followed the tracks out past the gate, but then he almost immediately turned off the road and began his drive across the desert towards the town he had made note of during the planning of the mission. In a little more than two hours he'd be drinking a cold beer and buying plane tickets out of the country.
Fourie believed it was important to always have a backup plan, just in case.
Thomas and Jennifer made their way cautiously out of the prison, following the trail of bodies that the assassins had left in their wake moving towards the holding cell where they had found the President.
When Jennifer had opened her eyes Thomas had been crouched down in front of her, holding her in his arms. She threw her arms up to his chest, her wrists still shackled together and held him close. “I knew you'd come back. You promised me. I knew you'd come.”
After a moment they stood up and Jennifer turned towards the door, but Thomas reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her. When she looked over her shoulder at him he gestured to the doctor's body. “We can't just leave him here. And we've got another problem.” He pointed at the vessel he'd disappeared with only minutes before which now silently filled the room once more. “We can't let them find that. They'll use it Jen. It's too powerful to let them use it.”
Jennifer wanted to leave, wanted to escape, but she had promised herself she'd listen when Thomas came back, and so she considered what he was saying. They stood there for a moment thinking about the problem until Thomas had an idea.
They dragged the body of the scientist over to the vessel and propped him up inside the machine. Thomas tore the sleeve from the doctor's coat and used it to rig the doctors body against the door so that when they closed the vessel he would fall forward onto the console, activating the launch sequence.
Jennifer stepped back and turned away from the vessel while Thomas took one last look inside, and then slowly shut the door. It took a moment, and then Jennifer saw the walls before her bathed in a brilliant white light.
When she turned back Thomas was standing, staring at the place where the vessel had been. Jennifer walked over to him and reached out to touch his back. After a moment, he turned to her and they walked out of the room together.
When they came to the first guard's body they searched it for the keys to Jennifer's shackles. Once she was free, they were able to make much better time.
When they made their way out of the facility and into the sunlight, they saw the destruction wrought by the assassins when they first entered the base. Smoke was still rising from the rubble of the sniper towers and the bodies of guards littered the sand.
There was a prison transport vehicle parked near the gate, and when they approached it they found that it was unlocked and the keys were in the ignition. Thomas looked over at Jennifer. “What do you think Jen? Try to make it through the desert on foot? Or borrow their ride?”
Jennifer considered for a moment before hopping into the passenger seat. “Let's go Tommy. I'm ready to get out of here.”
Thomas climbed into the drivers seat and started the vehicle. He looked over at his wife as they rolled out past the gates of the prison facility. “Let's never come back baby. Ever.”
Jennifer smiled as she looked out the window and watched the gates in the mirror disappear beyond the horizon.
Chapter Twenty Three
Their Dark Reflections
After a few more bangs the press quieted down. The Legislator put down the gavel and repeated his question again. “Director Stephens. I'm well aware that you were not responsible. But we have a situation on our hands and right now, you're the man most equipped to help us understand it.”
The Legislator paused for a moment to look down at the information in front of him before continuing. “The terrorist group known as El-Hesab managed to successfully assassinate the Vice President and most of our Intelligence community at a Global terror summit. They managed to launch a violent assault on one of our proud centers of learning and may have taken possession of any number of dangerous substances. They attacked a shopping center in the heart of our nation, resulting in dozens of casualties and massive destruction. They even assaulted a military facility they shouldn't even have known existed and assassinated President Alexander.”
The last statement was what had set the assembled audience off before. The assassination of the President had been news for days, but it still elicited a powerful response. This time the Legislator glared out at the assembly as he said the words, commanding order with his gaze.
He looked down at the man sitting at the table in front of the assembled Legislators. “In addition to that, the Anarchist Xavier de Vitoria appears to have disappeared, and many of those believed to be responsible for the violent riots in our capital escaped during the El-Hesab attack on the prison.”
“Our nation is under attack, it has been ever since April 19th. Now, I'm asking you Director Stephens, what are we supposed to do now?”
The aging man who sat behind the table down on the chamber floor took his time responding to the men sitting at the long table above him. He considered his response slowly before replying. They weren't going to like what he had to say, but it was the only thing that would work.
“Legislators. We have a problem. And it is one of our own making. First, we don't understand the nature of the problem. Secondly, we don't understand how best to address it.”
The Legislators leaned in to here what Director Stephens had to say. He held up his right hand and began to tick off his points.
“You say we've been under attack since April 19th. The truth is that this country has been under attack since the beginning. The kind of freedom we have will always be the focus of hatred and jealousy.”
The Director raised another finger. “We have been trying to fight ideological battles and trying to win hearts and minds. We've been trying to bribe our enemies with promises and treasure. We've allied with the enemies of our enemies. We've tried insurgencies and wars and black ops.”
He raised another finger. “We have overextended ourselves. We have bases all over the world. In the wake of the Devastation we invaded several more countries under the auspices of our “War on Terror.”
“These actions were taken in the mistaken belief that they would improve our defensive posture in the world. But we see now that they have instigated violence against our citizens and left us vulnerable to attack.” Director Stephens paused for a moment. And closed his fist. This was the part that was going to upset them. “If you want my advice sirs, the first thing we need to do is to bring those soldiers home.”
Several Legislators spoke up at once, arguing that he would leave them vulnerable overseas or that now was not the time to show weakness. The Legislator banged his gavel again until the room fell back into silence. He looked down at the Director. “There's going to be opposition to that Director Stephens. Our military defense consultants have informed us that we need to increase our operations overseas. What makes you think that's the wrong way to go?”
Stephens brushed the cuff of his suit coat before responding. “Legislator, those consultants are trying to sell you a product. You asked me a question, I get paid the same whether you take my advice or not. First, you need to bring our boys home. Then you need to begin screening people at the borders and ports. We need to have absolute control over who can and can not enter this country, and then we need to be able to control where people can go while they're here.”
“You want to know why you're Office of Homeland Security wasn't able to protect the people and the nation? It's because our citizens don't want to make sacrifices. I served for years in the military. I know about sacrifice. The citizens of this country cry out for security and then whine about their freedoms. But you can't have freedom and security. And you can't have freedom without security. So in the end, you can either have security or nothing.” The Director looked each of the Legislators directly in the eye. “Which do you want gentlemen? Security? Or nothing?”
The Legislator holding the gavel looked down at the Director for a moment and then set the gavel aside. He picked up another folder and moved it to the table in front of him. “Mitchell Rather has been removed from his position as Director of Homeland Security. We need someone to fill that role during the transition phase while the interim President prepares the country for the upcoming election. We'd like you to take that post and direct our efforts towards establishing real security. Your country needs you. What say you Director Stephens?”
The Director leaned back in his chair with a sober look on his face. “Legislators, I accept. We have a lot of work to do.”
Wahlid was nearly hysterical.
The wound in his shoulder hadn't yet healed. It burned when he moved and occasionally it would still break open and blood would stain his shirts.
Worse, the assault on the shopping mall had gone completely wrong, and now someone had launched an attack on a military facility under the guise of being a part of his organization and managed to kill the dog Alexander, and he had had nothing to do with it.
It was all falling apart around him. The infidels were supposed to be trembling. They were supposed to be huddling in fear. But because of the actions of some backwoods hillbillies, instead of decrying their government for failing to protect them, they were praising anonymous citizens for rising up to repel the terrorist threat.
Wahlid knew that this was the greatest danger to his plans. The government could never really stop him, they were too bureaucratic, always reacting, and slowly. Always fighting yesterday's battles while the terrorists were planning tomorrow's attacks. The reality was that an organization as static and dead as government could never effectively counter a living dynamic organization like El-Hesab.
But private citizens could. They could react in the moment, without asking for permission or filing a report. They would be there when the bomb went off or the terrorist opened fire, they didn't have to be called and then drive over to where the terrorist was, private citizens would always be ready to confront the terrorist where he is.
Wahlid knew that if the people suddenly felt empowered to take responsibility for their own protection, it would be nearly impossible to terrorize them effectively. So much of terrorism relied on the victim terrifying himself. If he found courage, then their attacks would never succeed.
The attack on the shopping mall was a spectacular failure, but still left dozens wounded or killed. The next attack wouldn't be nearly so effective. Next time there would be more armed hillbillies. There would be more men, and women, and maybe even children who would step up to resist the attack.
Wahlid knew that the only way to prevent this from happening was to get them scared again. He needed a successful attack where they least expected it. But to accomplish that, he needed more men, and that was the other side of the coin.
The yankee dogs were pulling back. They were leaving his land and returning home. And without their constant presence to incite the young to violence, it was getting harder and harder to recruit young men to the cause.
He still had the disease. He still had the next phase of the plan. There was still hope. But he knew he needed to act fast, before the people realized that they alone had the power to stop him.
Once that happened, it would all be over.
Grandon didn't know exactly what had happened in the desert, but he knew that the important parts of the plan had been a success.
Imalt had hired his own team and Grandon didn't know any of them by name for his own protection, so when Imalt didn't make it back from the mission, he didn't have anyone to contact for confirmation. But it turned out that wasn't necessary. Within days the news of James Alexander's death at the hands of El-Hesab while visiting a military base was being reported everywhere. And then Gorsky contacted him to fill him in on the details.
Apparently everything had gone fairly well. They made it into the prison, assassinated the President, and made it out again without being made. Unfortunately Imalt hadn't made it out, only Gorsky and one of the freelancers had survived, and de Vitoria had died in the shooting.
That last part was probably the least fortuitous. Grandon had hoped that he could have had de Vitoria publicly executed after he was elected President. That would have solidified his legacy. But he could always create a new villain. It was a minor inconvenience, nothing more.
Imalt had been a good employee. Professional. Productive. But part of his job had been to prepare a list of candidates for his own future replacement in case something like this happened, and Grandon was making phone calls the same day Gorsky filled him in on what had happened.
All in all, Grandon classified the whole thing as a success, and felt positive moving forward. The next election was only a few months away. Maybe now would be a good time to announce his intention to join the race so that he could “continue the good work of James Alexander.”
The man who was sitting in the small featureless room was trying to think of a way to change his fate.
He had sat at Black. He had started low, risen to great heights, and fallen even further. He had sat at Red before that man had appeared in the vessel with Issacson's badge. That had ended everything. Six hundred years of planning. Countless fortunes and lives. The dreams of dozens of Board members.
And now he sat here, in a different kind of vessel, headed for a deep space mining colony where he would be given a last chance at redemption.
The man who had been on the Board of Publius Valerius Publicola laughed inwardly at that thought. A last chance at redemption. He had been one of the most powerful men in his world. He had power and wealth.
And now he would spend the rest of his life as far from civilized men as possible. They didn't want him around. He was too dangerous. And so his remaining days would be filled with hard labor and few luxuries. He would live a life as featureless as the cold metal cell he now occupied.
They were too civilized a culture to kill him for his crimes. Even he would not be executed. But he would never find food or shelter on any of the core worlds again. His name, face, and genetic structure had already been circulated throughout the system. No respectable merchant would do business with a mass murderer, nor would any respectable business employ one.
So for as long as he could stand it he would be allowed to live, though he would never again know the life he had enjoyed.
He looked down at his bed sheet, one of the few amenities of his tiny temporary world, and then up at the light fixture above him, and wondered how long he would last.
