Anthony DeCosmo - Fusion

Trevor extended his free hand and asked, “Captain Farway?”

“Yes, sir,” the man offered a sincere and strong grip. “It is an honor to finally serve alongside you, Emperor.”

“Trevor. That’s about the only name I’ve been comfortable with in all this.” he replied with a shade of a grin.

Trevor held members of the old world’s military in high esteem, particularly those who had lived through action. Captain Farway’s perils at sea during the first year had reached Trevor via Jon Brewer, who had rode with Farway to Greenland six years ago. In addition, Farway had leant his services to help destroy The Order’s hidden base in the Atlantic last year, a move that might have saved The Empire. At least temporarily.

Trevor continued, “If I remember correctly, we met a few years ago during a symposium on naval organization and deployment.”

“Yes, sir, I remember. First meeting I ever had with the brass that was clear and to the point,” Farway smirked then looked to the bags. “Are all your things here?”

“Yes, Captain. What’s our time table?”

Farway replaced his cap and answered, “We’ve stripped down pretty good for speed and should make good time. I hope to get you there sometime late on Wednesday.”

Trevor calculated-five days to cross the Atlantic.

“Father, will we be under water the whole way?”

Farway answered, “That’s right, little guy. But don’t you worry; it’ll be a smooth ride.”

Hauser muttered, “Underwater-the whole-way?”

Captain Farway glanced at the pilot and answered with a grin, “That’s right. Say, you’re not claustrophobic, are you?”

Trevor answered fast, “No, no of course not. No.”

“Father, why are you sweating?”

“Say, can I help you with those things?” Farway volunteered but did not wait for an answer. He grabbed Trevor’s duffle bag as well as one of the bags from Hauser. The pilot and the navy man walked forward on the dock.

A seagull swooped low in search of food but found nothing and swooped into the sky even faster.

Trevor and Jorgie waited behind.

“Are you ready, buddy?”

JB nodded with forced enthusiasm.

Trevor held his hand down and open. The child reached up and grasped it. Trevor closed his fingers and JB’s hand nearly disappeared inside. Together father and son walked across the dock toward the Newport News.

The Snowy Egret watched from its perch aboard the destroyed USS Porter as the new arrivals worked their way inside the submarine. Soon thereafter the remaining topside sailors disappeared below and the hatches closed. The smaller attack subs-the Barracudas-powered to life and took positions alongside the larger vessel as it sailed away from its moorings. All three boats cut gentle wakes disturbing an otherwise peaceful harbor.

As the trio neared the horizon, the smaller Barracudas broke off their escort and the USS Newport News slipped beneath the waters as if to hide from the world.

The Snowy Egret could not appreciate the beauty in the sight of the war machines heading off into a rising sun, but it captured the entire scene with its mechanical eyes; recording the view on an internal storage device that was one part circuitry and one part biological mass.

Nina Forest stood in the observation lounge inside the Communications Center on the grounds of McConnell Air Force Base. The windows-shattered six days prior during Trevor’s visit to the center-remained open. A smoky breeze blew inside from what remained of the base.

Most of the papers and equipment of value to Casey Fink’s Headquarters Unit evacuated two days before. One big map pinned to a wall remained the exception, but it held no markers for The Order to interpret upon their arrival which was expected to occur within twenty-four hours.

The conference table sported a big crack through the middle but maintained enough strength to bear the weight of Nina’s gear: a backpack, utility belt, ballistic armor, a Kevlar helmet, her sword, and more.

She heard scattered shouts from outside where her team gathered. The engine of a Blackhawk helicopter spooled to life at the same time as a formation of human fighter jets roared overhead on their way west to meet the vanguard of Voggoth’s army.

As had been the case all her life, the trappings of battle-machine engines, shouts, chaos, the smell of fire-did not disturb Nina Forest. She felt at home among them. The only place, in the entire world, where she felt at home. Except for those few moments with Trevor before she had left the estate. That had felt like home, too, even better. More personal.

She knew the time had come, however, to cast that aside. She did her best to focus on the mission. The helicopter downstairs waited for her. She had memorized the appropriate command codes and evaluated areas of operation. She would lead her team behind the lines with the goal of hurting The Order’s armies, weakening them before they reached the Mississippi.

Of course Voggoth was in no hurry to engage The Empire’s defenses. Apparently he waited for his alien cohorts to arrive so they could take credit for his victory. She wished The Empire maintained the offensive capability to launch a counter-attack because Voggoth’s hesitation provided a perfect opportunity for a kill shot.

Alas, their losses in the Rockies greatly diminished offensive firepower. They would have to be content with an aggressive defense, like those fighter jets overhead, attacks by the Chrysaor after her repairs finished, and Nina’s Dark Wolves.

What did I do to make Trevor leave me? Did I betray him?

Nina shook her head as if trying to shake free the question. She could not afford to dwell on this. But at the same time, she could not help herself. She had always suspected more happened during that missing year. Since last summer-since receiving the video tape-the question as to why they separated ate at her soul each and every day.

Three days had passed since she spoke with Trevor at the estate; three days since he had embraced her. In that embrace she had felt a wave of warmth and regret from him. She saw clearly that he still cared for her; longed for her the way she wanted desperately to be with him. Yet something held him back.

Whatever I did, it wounded him so deeply that he denies his feelings; he rejects me even though he still loves me. My God, what did I do?

In frustration, Nina reached to her head and yanked off the black beret and slapped it against her thigh.

“Ain’t it ‘bout time you hit the road?”

Nina swung around and saw General Jerry Shepherd standing in the stairwell door.

He took one step into the room, removed his cowboy hat, and asked in a fatherly tone, “You okay, Nina? What’s wrong?”

Her lips moved but she suppressed the urge to ask. She had grilled him often over the years. Each time he evaded her questions. Each time-she now knew-he lied. Apparently the depth of her sin against Trevor required no one speak of it.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay,” and she began fitting on her gear starting with the short sword which she strapped to her leg, then Interceptor body armor. “Just, you know, going over the whole thing again.”

Nina fit on a shoulder holster holding a MAC-11 machine pistol

“Not much to go over,” Shepherd stood next to her and leant a hand as she struggled into the heavy backpack. “You’re getting dropped behind the lines and then you hit targets of opportunity.”

She did not react to him. Instead, she checked the clip in her Colt M4 and slammed it back into place with more force than required, then jammed her beret into a pocket in favor of a Kevlar helmet. Her ponytail still managed to peak out behind.

She buckled the last piece into place: a thigh rig holding a powerful semi-automatic Desert Eagle handgun.