Richard Stephenson - Resistance

“How’s the baby, sir?”

“He’s great. Elizabeth’s already talking about having another one. I told her we should get this one potty trained before we take that step.”

“I’m glad my kids are grown. I definitely don’t miss that stuff. So, what’s up?”

“I want your input on something. Nothing is definite, but I think the time is fast approaching when President Beck will no longer allow refugees from the UAE inside the Castle.”

“And you want to know what I think?”

“Yes.”

“Speaking from the security side of things, it’s a good idea. With the Castle being stuck in the middle of the neutral zone between the UAE and the PSA, I’d be glad to close up shop. We also have close to three thousand people living down here. Sooner or later one of these people is bound to make us regret our open door policy. On a personal level, I think it’s a mistake. We both know the sort of things going on in the UAE, and for us to deny sanctuary to anyone living in that hell…” Dennis trailed off, clearly trying to block the unpleasant memories fighting their way to the surface.

“I agree with you completely. People are risking their lives to get here; most don’t even make it before the UAE slaughters them. On the other hand, I’m responsible for the security around here. If we’re infiltrated or something tragic happens, the buck stops with me. I can’t let anything happen to this place. The stakes are just too high.”

“Sir, with your permission, I’m ready to release the latest refugees from quarantine.”

“Let me review the final report and I’ll get back to you before lunch.”

Every refugee from the UAE found wandering around the valley above Beck Castle had to remain in quarantine for seven days before they were allowed into the main facility. They had to be screened for infectious diseases and undergo extensive psychological testing. Anyone failing to meet the requirements was sedated, taken to a random location, and left to their own devices to live a happy life far away from the empire.

“When’s the surgery, boss?”

“Two weeks. I’m gonna count on you to handle things while I recover.”

“You know I will.” Dennis winked at Max as he left the room.

Max had elected to undergo a radical new surgery that would completely replace the bones and muscles in his left leg. The procedure involved replacing the bones in his useless leg with synthetic ones and implanting small tissue samples in place of the discarded muscles. This tissue would be infused with tiny nanobots capable of rapidly stimulating growth. If it all went as planned, Max would eventually have a brand new leg and years of chronic pain would be gone.

“Good morning, Director Harris.”

“What is it, Hal?” Max was not in the mood for small talk.

“The president and General Dupree would like a word.”

Max swore under his breath. “I’m on my way, Hal.”

“Yes, sir.”

Max hobbled down to the end of the corridor and entered the command center to find the two men waiting for him.

“Richard, it’s good to see you, my friend.”

Richard shook Max’s hand and smiled. “Max, we have a lot to talk about, please sit down.”

President Simon Sterling, the self-appointed leader of the Unified American Empire, was in a foul mood. Things were not going well in the UAE. Reconstruction efforts in The Pulse Zone were not progressing as quickly as he had envisioned. Eighteen months after The Pulse, progress had been made in terms of rebuilding the infrastructure of his broken country, but not to his satisfaction. The power grid had been restored in roughly forty percent of the affected area, thanks in large part to the cannibalization of the former states of California and Nevada. Every spare electrical component in Governor Jimenez’s territory was shipped to the other side of the country to help bring the power grid back online. Roberto Jimenez pleaded with President Sterling to leave him with a small percentage of spare parts should his territory need them to make repairs. To make matters worse for Jimenez, fleets of every type of automobile-from small cars to eighteen wheelers-were also sent to The Pulse Zone, leaving his people to do without.

The primary goal of reconstruction was being seriously hampered by The Silent Warriors. In the previous two months, attacks had increased despite Sterling’s best attempts to stop them. Maintaining law and order in The Pulse Zone was next to impossible because of The Silent Warriors. The bulk of the military had to be deployed across the Empire to set up checkpoints and search people’s homes. Simon Sterling simply couldn’t spare a single soldier to invade the PSA.

Squabbling with one of his eight regional governors or even The Silent Warriors was not the source of his foul mood. One thing, and one thing only, kept President Sterling’s blood boiling these days… Howard Beck. For eighteen months, Simon had left Howard Beck’s pathetic little “nation” alone so he could focus on more important matters. Sterling’s empire was in no shape to start a war with the Pacific States of America, and that bothered him greatly. Nothing would please him more than defeating Howard Beck, and the fact that he had no choice but to postpone the confrontation with the PSA angered him. Simon hated to admit it, but Beck’s impressive tech army proved a formidable foe. The PSA’s drones swatted the UAE’s out of the sky with ease.

Just prior to the Collapse of 2027, Simon had gone to great lengths to oust Howard from his Rocky Mountain estate; this victory was a source of immense satisfaction for Simon. Simon was already in the final stages of the coup d’état that would place him at the top of the new government he was creating. If he was going to run an empire, he wanted to do it in style. Taking up residence in the largest mansion in North America seemed like the only logical choice, the ostentatious grand library making one hell of an office.

Simon stared at the majestic view beyond the library’s bay window. “Where are you, Howard?”

“Did you say something, sir?”

Simon was startled by the question, unaware that he was no longer alone in his reverie. “No, Stacy, I was just thinking out loud. What did you find out?”

Stacy Reid was President Sterling’s chief advisor. She had previously served as chief of staff under President Malcolm Powers. During her last days in office, Stacy had a terrible falling out with her boss and eventually came under Simon’s employ. He was more than impressed with her abilities and trusted her implicitly; however, he had no doubt that the woman would despise him if she knew he had killed her former boss.

“Mr. President, Governor Weygandt’s grandchildren were returned to him safe and sound. The slave traders were promptly executed and strung up as a warning. Governor Weygandt issued a directive in his territory that the slave trade is to be halted at all costs and the slave traders put to death. In a show of support, four of the other regional governors followed suit.”

President Sterling did his best to choke back his anger. “Who are the three hold-outs?”

“Jimenez, Walston, and Prince.”

“Just as I figured.”

“Is there anything else, Mr. President?”

“No, Stacy, that will be all. Thank you.”

Stacy promptly made her exit. She had seen Simon angry before and had no desire to stick around for a repeat performance.

***

Stacy Reid hurried back to her office and locked the door. She fumbled at the top drawer of her desk, her trembling hands making a tenuous grab for the pill bottle she’d hidden within. The anxiety medication was the only thing holding her fragile mind together. The last eighteen months had been a living hell. Her former employer and closest friend, President Malcolm Powers, had grown suspicious of key players in his administration. The two of them hatched a plan that included a dramatic falling out between them and Stacy losing her job. Stacy’s role was to play the damsel in distress and wait for someone to come to her rescue. Whoever offered her a shoulder to cry on and listened to her rant and rave about her crazy ex-boss would no doubt welcome her into whatever conspiracy was secretly in the making. The plan worked perfectly. Roberto Jimenez, then director of the CIA, took Stacy into his confidence and delivered her directly to the plot’s ringleader. Unfortunately, the charade hatched by President Powers came too late to save his administration. Malcolm Powers and his wife were killed by a missile strike on their residence in upstate New York in the first hours of The Pulse. Simon Sterling blamed the assassination on The Great Empire of Iran but Stacy knew better — Sterling was responsible for the death of the forty-sixth president of the United States.