Anthony DeCosmo - Schism

Further off loomed the corpses of buildings that died in the fires of Armageddon but alongside those skeletons worked cranes lifting beams into place and scaffolding wrapped around new construction. That process of rebirth gave Jones hope, as did the subject of the day's press conference. Hope that maybe everything he had done had indeed been for the best; that his betrayal grew from honorable intentions. A voice broadcast over the walkie-talkie attached to his belt next to his side arm. "Hey, Dante, are you out there?" The voice belonged to Ray Roos, the new Director of Internal Security. "Yeah, man, I'm here. I'm up on the roof. I came up here with one of the teams." Roos chuckled, "Say, you trying to do my job?" Dante-his eyes still staring into the distance-answered, "Old habits die fast, I guess." "Well, now, the boss is expecting you down here for the big show."

He heard the chatter among the reporters below grow but told Ray, "I think I'll stay out of the spotlight. The view is a little better up here."

– The Duncan Phyfe-crafted cabinets and furnishings from the late Federal period that once adorned the White House library had been pillaged or destroyed during the Hivvan occupation. Therefore, it remained one of the more incomplete rooms in the refurbished White House. Nonetheless, a portrait of George Washington remained above the neoclassical mantel and the soft gray and rose tones of the paneling gave the chamber a cozy feel.

Tory-Sharon Godfrey's eleven year old boy-stretched on the floor in one corner of the room with sneakers kicked out behind as he built a plastic model car on top of newspapers laid to protect the wood. The smell of Testor's glue permeated the air.

His mother used glue of her own as she sat at a round wooden table. Spread in front of her were clippings taken from the newspapers that now served as Tory's drop cloth. She carefully positioned one clip after another in a thick scrapbook, taking care to ensure perfect placement.

Mother and son worked in a silence punctuated by the ticking hands and grinding gears of a lighthouse clock bearing the likeness of Marquis de Lafayette on its base.

"Ah, there you are," Evan entered the room. "I've been looking all over for you."

Sharon remained focused on affixing yet another memento to her scrapbook. Evan glanced over her shoulder and saw the headline EMPEROR DEAD on one page and ASSASSINATION on the other.

Sharon pressed until satisfied the glue held. To her annoyance, Evan reached in and flipped backwards through the scrapbook. The headlines flashed one after another as he traveled into the past.

CALIFORNIA INVASION OPPOSED BY RELIGIOUS COUNCIL. TREVOR STONE DEAD? EMPEROR NOT SEEN IN TWO MONTHS. WHERE IS TREVOR STONE? EVAN GODFREY CHOSEN PRESIDENT OF THE IMPERIAL SENATE. STONE GIVES IN: SENATE TO BE ELECTED. SLAUGHTER AT NEW WINNABOW.

Evan stopped paging and sighed. "What's wrong, my dear? You don't approve of my collection?"

"When you said you and Tory would be in the library, I thought you would be spending time with him before he heads off to summer camp. But you're too busy collecting scalps."

Tory did not have to be asked to leave, he instinctively knew, abandoning the unfinished model as he searched for a new place to play. It was a big house, after all. Plenty of places for a child to get lost. "My son is my business." "But you are my business, Sharon. Tell me, what will you do now?" "I don't understand," she replied while thumbing through the memories as if perusing her high school yearbook.

"Who will you hate now, my love? All these years you've fixated on the fall of our beloved Emperor in revenge for what he did to your home and your father. He's been vanquished, but one look at you and I can see that the hate has not diminished."

"Soon there will be much to keep me busy. After your press conference today, I'll be in charge of getting rid of those damned dogs. I look forward to being at your side for that."

Evan grabbed her arm and hoisted her from the chair.

"Yes, you will be at my side. Remember that, Sharon. I don't need you and your vendettas screwing anything up. I want you to smile. I want you to be happy. You've gotten everything you've always wanted, you saw the end of Trevor Stone. Now get over it. Move on."

"Easy for you to say, Evan. What have you lost? There is still a debt owed for what he did at New Winnabow. Tell me, who was the assassin who put the bullet in my father's neck?"

A straw broke in Evan's back.

"Enough! I won't have this, Sharon. Instead of spending your time scheming, maybe you should spend more time with your son. Or is he just an inconvenience now?"

Sharon's hand cocked. A voice interrupted the blow.

"Mr. President," a forty-something woman with strawberry blond hair and a scar on her face interrupted the brewing fight. "Yes? Yes, what is it?" "Chancellor D'Trayne has arrived. The press conference is ready to begin." With that, the woman withdrew. Evan painted on a smile. Sharon calmed and forced a smile of her own. "I need you by my side now, Sharon." "Whatever you say, Mr. President." — Armageddon caused much damage to the White House grounds. In the years since humanity's armies chased the lizards from D.C., the Senate, Evan Godfrey, and other like-minded politicians and historians invested in fixing, repairing, and otherwise returning the White House to pre-Armageddon form. They, by and large, succeeded. However, the scars of destruction still lingered and Evan chose one such scar as backdrop for his big speeches.

While the lawn grew as green as ever, the trees and shrubs between the south face of the White House and the West wing had been burned to nothing and removed. Instead of full-grown replacements transplanted from a nursery, Evan Godfrey insisted on planting new trees and shrubs as a symbol of America's rebirth. For the next several years, he would stand there and deliver initiatives and speeches and progress reports to the eager media with those baby plants growing behind him in the same way he planned to grow the nation anew.

In that cozy corner of the new seat of power gathered two dozen members of the press on folding metal chairs facing a podium bearing the seal of the President of the United States. Around that podium lurked Brad Gannon in slick hair and a pearly-white smile as well as Chancellor D'Trayne in all his silver glory. No one noticed Dante, mixed with a security team, watching from the roof.

Ray Roos escorted Evan and his wife to the edge of the yard then waited behind. The President approached the podium; Sharon lingered off to the side. The press stood in a sign of respect but he quickly motioned for the reporters to be seated.

"My fellow countrymen, today marks the end of the greatest struggle in the history of mankind. The war is over."

Evan let that sink in, not only for the men and women in the audience, but those who watched on T.V. While only the local population witnessed the announcement live, the tape of the conference would soon play from sea to shining sea.

"Ten years ago alien armies marched through interplanetary gateways to wage war upon our people. Why did they come? Did we provoke this aggression? I have spent years searching for that answer. With the help of Chancellor D'Trayne, I have finally found the truth. This has been a coordinated invasion with the aim of defusing the danger humanity represents to life throughout the universe. That danger comes not from our weapons or technology, but from the nature of our persons. In short, you will find the answer as to 'why' not by looking toward the stars, but in reading a history book: crusades, holocausts, inquisitions and Dark Ages. Whether due to religious zeal, unbridled nationalism, racism or merely our natural inclination toward violence, mankind has a history of brutality and militarism, and the universe took note."