Anthony DeCosmo - Schism

Next, Ross broadcast across several radio frequencies. As he transmitted, the energy pools feeding the Excalibur's main guns filled to a level never matched outside of training missions, causing the vessel to tremble. The other three ships vibrated in the same manner for the same reason, causing a muffled sizzle that grew louder as the power levels increased.

The former linebacker's voice spoke without his usual volume, but boomed all the same: "This is Captain Ross of the Imperial dreadnought Excalibur. In the name of Trevor Stone, I deliver the wrath of humanity."

No reaction came from the aliens. A few wandered about like zombies; most simply stood and watched. They struck Ross as ants unaware of a boot stepping toward them, a sight that came across as surreal; almost comedic to Ross' eye.

First the Excalibur fired, followed by the Philippan and then the Chrysaor. Each of the mighty vessels rocked from the kick.

Instead of pulses or blobs, the fully-charged "belly bopper" guns spewed streams of plasma into the ground below, kicking explosions of dirt and debris into the sky as if a volcano erupted. The destructive might engulfed the Centurian base several times over. A great churning river of fire glowed and rippled. The sound from the attack carried for miles, as did the tremor.

When the attack ended, Ross and his agents of destruction watched from the sky as the fireballs faded, replaced by steam and ash.

Nothing moved. The alien base no longer existed; replaced by a black scorch stretching across the already-scarred earth of Monterrey. The strongest beams and walls of the Centurian outpost melted into the soil. Satisfied with their work, the three vessels gained altitude and turned for home.

The public fed on the red meat of photographs from the destroyed Centurian outpost with a vengeful zeal. Yet Evan Godfrey knew those images-from the fleet's gun cameras-would stave off anarchy for only so long.

Still, as it had done often in the past, anarchy served as the Senator's ally. He understood something that the best politicians and comedians knew: timing is everything.

Evan gazed into the mirror and recalled his stay in that same hotel three years prior. Back then his timing had been perfect, too, but with one tragic difference: Trevor Stone returned. Such would not be the case this time, of that Evan remained confident. Dante had done as instructed; he had persuaded Jon to send the body of Trevor Stone around The Empire, allowing all the loyal subjects to see the lifeless corpse.

Unlike three years ago, no uncertainty remained. There would be no sectarian strife between Trevor loyalists and the more reasonable crowd. Those loyalists concentrated on drowning their sorrows at the local pub or raising funds for this memorial or that. Evan heard that some two dozen schools had already been renamed "Trevor Stone Elementary" or "Stone High." "Let him have the high schools, I just want his job." "Did you say something?" "I said I'm about ready to go," he replied to his wife's question from the bathroom. Sharon strolled out from there wearing a white robe, still wet from the shower. "Going? Already? Is it that late?" "Yes, my lovely wife. It seems your hangover caused you to sleep in."

She frowned for a moment, and then smiled again. Sharon smiled a lot in recent days. She had, in fact, attended two of the Emperor's memorials, like going to see a good movie twice. As much as this amused him, he saw her enthusiasm for Trevor's fate as potentially hazardous. His wife failed to grasp the importance of appearances.

"Well, we were celebrating," she pressed against him. In addition to smiling, Sharon showed a lot more affection in recent weeks, too. "Now, are you set for today?" "You know I have everything lined up. People just need to play their part, remember?" "Ah yes, you're big on role playing, aren't you?" Evan could not help but return her smile. Yes, Sharon had shown a great deal more affection in recent days, and creativity.

Still, duty called. He told her, "Enjoy your day shopping. Be sure to pick up some Trevor Stone remembrance mugs or scrapbooks or whatever it is they're selling in the market."

"I don't think I can afford any of that, my dear, not with the way prices are skyrocketing. You'd think those damn politicians would do something about that, wouldn't you."

"I intend to do plenty. Now you have a wonderful day."

Sharon grabbed Evan's power tie, pulled him close and kissed hard.

Five minutes later the Internal Security motorcade arrived outside the hotel on Public Square in Wilkes-Barre. A short man with gray hair and a heavy bandage on his arm drove. Evan addressed him first, "How is the arm, Tucker?" "Getting better, Mister Godfrey, sir." Dr. Maple had fixed Tucker's dog bite and reported it as a glancing blow from a Centurian energy weapon. Ray Roos shared the back seat with Evan. "Big day for you, isn't it now, Senator?"

As the car pulled away Evan responded, "I like to think that it's a big day for our entire nation, Ray. Think about it, today we take our first steps toward democracy."

"Oh yeah, that's exactly what I mean, Senator. 'Course, sometimes people don't vote the way other folks are expecting. I seem to recall this Dewey fella…"

Despite how much he relied on him, Evan often found Roos rather grating. Probably because Roos saw through Evan at every turn, starting first with his maneuverings during the New Winnabow crisis then again during Trevor's absence three years ago.

"That's the wonderful thing about democracy, Ray, the results can be surprising sometimes. Of course, it can be easier to deal with those surprises when one stays in touch with the feelings of the people."

Ray nodded with a big grin.

"Well, Senator, you know I do my best to stay in touch with the people. Well, that's not exactly true. I stay in touch with the folks at the estate, as best I can. And since the only 'people' who'll be voting on the next Emperor are the 'people' on the council, well I've tried to keep my ear to the ground. You know, just to be sure everything is on the up and up."

"Of course. You know, Ray, I've come to trust your instincts. Tell me, what are your feelings on today's vote?"

The motorcade-led by two I.S. officers on hover bikes and trailed by a tactical response team in a black SUV-left downtown and traveled along the river bank. Warm weather had returned to Wilkes-Barre, bringing with it joggers and picnickers and street performers along the grassy dike.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Senator, but I'm thinking you may not even get one vote today. Unless, of course, you vote for yourself."

"Now Ray, that wouldn't seem like a gentlemanly thing to do. After all, my modesty…"

Roos snickered before saying, "Of course not, Senator. But I think one guy who might just punch his own number would be that Gordon Knox. If that's the case, I'm thinking he's going to make a real run at this thing."

The very mention of Knox's name brought a grimace to Evan's face. He could practically feel the cold barrel of the Intelligence Director's pistol against the back of his head. Evan felt Gordon Knox to be a man with whom he could not deal.

"That does not surprise me. Still, there are ten votes in all among the council."

"Well sure, I understand that. Like I was saying, Senator, I keep my ear to the ground; I hear things. There's been a lot of the council talking amongst themselves. See, most of them think there's really only two people in this race. People in one camp lean toward Knox. I guess part of that is because they might be a little afraid of him, isn't that something? In any case, folks in the other camp are leaning toward Jon Brewer, kind of a sentimental vote and seein' that he has all this experience and whatnot."