Anthony DeCosmo - Parallels

Roos waved a hand. "Yep. That’s right. Evan Godfrey. Why the two of you did right by everyone. If you ask me-and I know you haven’t but I’ll tell you anyway-if you ask me you pulled Trevor Stone’s bacon out of the barbecue. Now that’s what I call leadership."

Jones closed his eyes as he remembered those scary times after New Winnabow.

"Can I say something, Mr. Jones, without getting my own bacon in the barbecue? I can understand if you’d rather I just went about my business and kept my mouth shut."

Dante nodded an approval for Roos to speak freely.

"I know Trevor is your friend, but allow me to set that aside for one moment. Let’s forget who he is and see him for what he is. Just for a moment. I don’t want you taking offense at this."

"Go ahead, Ray."

"I have to figure you know more about what’s going on with Trevor being disappeared than little old me. But the story is that he’s off on some mission. Hey, I ain’t asking for the skinny, that’s not my department. But my point is that maybe it’s a good thing this is happening right now. Now hold off now, I’m not saying it’s good that he’s gone. I’m saying it’s good it’s happening now when things are kind of quiet. You see? You see my point?"

Dante listened.

"If he comes back, fine and dandy. Or maybe not. I mean, sooner or later Trevor Stone ain’t going to be steering the ship. He’s not immortal. At least, I expect not. So maybe we need to find this stuff out now. I mean the stuff about how things could fall apart without him."

Dante said, "I think I see your point. It’s pretty bad now. Just think of how bad it would be if we were in the middle of the full-scale Hivvan war or something."

"We’re getting taught a lesson, yes we are. A lesson that maybe we’re too dependent on Trevor Stone. Even with the Senate, he's still the guy in charge of just about everything."

Dante said, "Yes. He is. But I get your point. Let's just hope he gets back, soon."

"Oh yeah, that's what we're all hoping, Mr. Jones."

The conversation paused.

After a second of reflection, Roos chuckled and said, "Man, that must be funny from your point of view. A real gasser. I mean, here you are watching all of us be so dependent on Trevor Stone but in the old days you had to lead him around by the nose to keep him going in the right direction. I got to hand it to you, Mr. Jones. Sure I do. There are guys out there who I just know that type of thing wouldn’t sit well in their belly. But you, you've done one heck of a job putting that aside and working for Trevor nowadays. Still, that’s got to be kind of, oh, kind of ironic. Funny, like I said. A real gasser."

After faltering at Erie Coast, Trevor wanted to re-organize and hit the Duass again. Instead, Director Snowe convinced Thebes' new Emperor to target the Chaktaw, who posed the larger threat; the Duass showed no signs of retaliating.

Then Trevor suggested he might find ways to improve supply and manufacturing, hinting that munitions and weapons-not his tactics-bore responsibility for the defeat.

Nina insisted his attention was best focused on training and planning. Eventually he agreed. In fact, he appreciated how everyone on this world tended to tell him what he wanted to hear, and took care of the details leaving him free to tackle the more interesting tasks.

With the coming of mid-March, the weather showed signs of changing. Temperatures remained cold at night, but not quite as cold. Drizzle replaced snow flurries and afternoon temperatures grew far more comfortable.

One additional benefit of the change came in the form of more daylight, a point he noticed riding home from the Operations Center one evening in twilight instead of pitch dark. The extra sun added to his sense of optimism.

Well, not optimism. A sense of opportunity. Yes, that was the better word. "Optimism" did not describe any of Trevor’s moods or attitudes any more. In fact, he exchanged happiness, contentment, and satisfaction for enthusiasm, aggressiveness, and determination.

In any case, the longer days told Trevor that the opportunity for expansion approached. Soon he would launch a proper offensive, one meant to acquire territory.

Despite what Nina and Snowe thought, Trevor remained convinced he could find more survivors. His experiences on that other world taught him about the resilience of humanity.

Stone’s taxi halted at his skyscraper hostel. He stepped out of the car as did the two bodyguards Snowe had selected to keep Trevor safe or, more likely, to keep watch on him.

Whether Snowe would prove to be a long-term friend or a short-term ally of convenience would depend on the Director's attitude.

The car sped away. Trevor took a moment to crane his neck up at the tall, green structure stretching toward gray clouds where a few streaks of dying, orange sun flickered.

Home.

"Trevor."

The voice came from a slender figure in technician’s coveralls. She wore a cap and a light windbreaker. Even from a distance, Trevor understood he should recognize her.

"It’s okay," he warded off his bodyguards with a wave.

Hmm…is that Jolene? It’d be nice to see her again.

"Yes, I’m Trevor. Do I know you?"

The woman removed her cap revealing dark hair.

He moved closer to see her more clearly. A sharp jolt of fear shot along his spine. His legs wobbled, his heart pounded, and he stumbled back a step.

Ashley.

In that first split second of recognition, his mind screamed she came across dimensions to find me! And I’m not going back!

In the next moment, he regained control, realizing that this Ashley wore shorter hair and a scar. These markings meant she came from this world, not the one he had left behind.

"You know me," she said. "Maybe not here. Do you remember who I am?"

"You…you’re Ashley Trump. I once knew someone…someone like you."

He noticed her trembling yet noticed something else, too: determination. Obviously this confrontation scared her a great deal, too, but she found the strength to see it through.

She held a small package to him. He retreated again.

"Reverend Johnny told me about your life at home, and they killed him."

"This…this is my home," the guards stepped to either flank of their charge as they realized Trevor wanted no more of this woman’s company.

"No. Your home, Trevor. Where you have a wife and a son. Do you remember them?"

"Stop it. Shut up."

The guards grabbed for the woman. She avoided them long enough to shove her package in Trevor’s stomach, he had not choice but to clutch it.

"For your son, Trevor! For your son!"

He alternated his eyes from the package to the woman his guards pushed away.

Get her out of here! Get her away!

Then he hurried into the hostel. A moment later-after they had successful warded off the specter that had come to haunt the Emperor-the guards joined him inside. Trevor moved through the lobby then to the elevator then to his penthouse in an emotionless, zombie-like gait.

Both guards followed him inside and then he slammed the door shut behind, bolting it.

Get a hold of yourself, Emperor.

While the bodyguards made themselves comfortable in the living room with a deck of cards and a pitcher of beer (or what passed for beer in Thebes), Trevor went into the bedroom and sat on the mattress, staring at the small wrapped box Ashley's doppelganger had shoved into his hands. He eyed it warily, as if it might be a bomb.

Afraid, Emperor? A tiny little box scares you?

As if to prove his courage, Trevor tore into the paper wrapping and opened the cardboard box inside. He found a key card and a slip of paper with a message.

One dash one, industrial sector.