Richard Stephenson - Collapse

“Bullshit. You felt sorry for her.”

Roberto grunted, shifting in his wheelchair. “Kiss my crippled ass.”

“You know it’s true. We both know she was in the dark about Florida, and you hated Malcolm even more for betraying her.”

“I’m the fucking Director of the CIA! Betrayal comes with the job. We make our living getting foreign citizens to betray their governments.”

“Don’t give me that shit. Malcolm had a nervous breakdown and made her cry. You see a pretty lady crying and want to rescue her. I’ve seen you do it before.”

“Fuck you.”

“You know I’m right. Cuss me all you want.”

Howard had seen enough. “Hal, turn it off. Now!” The screen faded to black and Howard ran out of the command center down the hall to the dormitory wing. He had never been so angry. His best friend had been murdered by members of his own administration. That level of betrayal and deceit had never been visited upon a president of the United States. Every assassinated president before Malcolm Powers could at least take with him the fact that he’d been murdered by an enemy who made no qualms about his hatred for the man he had killed. His closest friend would be remembered alongside Julius Caesar for his treacherous murder and little else. The legacy of Malcolm Powers would be that he was a terrible judge of character. Howard couldn’t save his friend, but he would avenge his death by bringing the traitors to justice.

Howard had lost his home and was now living underground. Half the country was living in the Pre-Industrial Era without a working government. Major cities were crumbling to the ground. People would soon begin to kill each other over food and water. And worst of all, The Great Empire of Iran had won the war. President Sterling was always vocal about his opposition to meddling in foreign affairs. He was the poster boy for the Modern Isolationist Movement. He often quoted President George Washington’s farewell address to bolster public opinion for isolationism. Now that he was in office, it would no doubt be high on his priority list.

Hal interrupted his creator’s depressing musings. “Sir, you need to come back to the command center. President Sterling is having a conversation that you need to hear.”

“I assume you have the ability to record it for playback?”

“Yes, sir. The White House A.I. was able to repair some of the damage to the surveillance system.”

“I’m on my way, Old Man. By the way, Hal, I need you to do something for me.”

“Of course, sir, anything.”

“Malcolm never gave his digital assistant a name. It’s time we changed that, and I’d like you to do the honors.”

“Thank you, sir, I would be happy to give my sister a name.”

“I thought you might.” The spherical screen came to life, displaying the inside of Howard’s library. There, the president gathered with Carl Moody, Roberto Jimenez, and James Weygandt.

“How soon can we make the broadcast?” asked President Sterling.

“Tomorrow or the day after,” answered General Weygandt.

“How many people can we expect will hear it?” asked the president.

General Weygandt replied, “The West Coast and the Rockies were not affected by The Pulse, so they’re not really an issue. We’re setting up loud speakers in every state capital and every major city. We’ll broadcast it over AM and FM for all the people who had emergency radios shielded against EMPs. The news will then spread like wildfire by word of mouth.”

“Outstanding! If you gentlemen will excuse me, I have to write my own Inaugural Address. Oh, wait, that reminds me. Did we get in touch with any of the other Supreme Court justices? Associate Justice Boyd is a bumbling fool. He’ll step all over his own words and ruin the occasion.”

Director Jimenez turned his wheelchair around to face the president. “Mr. President, he’s the only one we’ve been able to locate. I have my men working around the clock to find the Chief Justice; I’m confident they’ll find him.”

Sterling laughed. “Well, whomever we find, it will be the last act of the Supreme Court, strictly for show. They’ll no longer have a purpose. Thank you, Roberto. Gentlemen, that will be all. Thank you.”

The three men extended the proper formalities to the president as they left the room. Howard thought that was the end of the playback but found the image following the three men as they walked down the hallway towards the kitchen. Work crews had already done an impressive job repairing the damage left by the missile.

Roberto Jimenez looked up at Carl Moody. “What’s the status of our forces in the Iranian Theater?”

“Our troops are retreating back to Gibraltar. All of our ships will rendezvous with the James Russell sometime tomorrow and withdraw back to the East Coast to close our borders.”

Roberto stopped his wheelchair for dramatic effect. The two men had no choice but to pause and give him their full attention. “So you mean to tell me that you’re going to gather the bulk of our military in one central location? You ever think that maybe the Empire will use that opportunity to strike?”

General Weygandt exchanged a smirk with the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. “Roberto, we’re not going to create a traffic jam at Gibraltar. Our ships won’t be bumper to bumper like it’s rush hour; they’ll be spread out from the Port of Gibraltar over hundreds of miles. The Empire isn’t going to think we’re priming for attack. They’ll get the message plain and clear that we’re retreating.”

Roberto hated to be upstaged by the military. “I’d be more worried about the European Army shoving a nuke up our ass for stabbing them in the back and leaving them behind. By the end of the year the Empire will be walking the streets of Paris and London.”

Carl Moody was a closet member of the Modern Isolationist Movement. It was the entire reason he was behind Simon Sterling. He couldn’t very well be the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and publicly advocate isolationism when his nation was trying to rid the world of the most horrific force since the Nazis. He’d had many long talks with Simon in the past year and agreed with him that the United States needed to worry about the United States and nothing else. He laughed at Roberto’s taunt. “Who gives a shit? They can have Europe. It’s time we stopped playing babysitter to the rest of the world and take care of our own backyard. We’ve managed to bankrupt our country and turn our kids into idiots at the expense of saving the world. Well, we can’t save the world, but we can save ourselves.”

Roberto laughed at the Chairman. “Save it, Carl. You’re preaching to the choir.”

The playback stopped, and the image faded away. Howard’s mind was racing with mixed emotions. Malcolm was so close to ending the war, and these men pissed it all away in the span of a day. He didn’t disagree that the United States had plenty of its own problems to deal with and could use its resources to rebuild its own broken homeland, but it wouldn’t mean a thing if the Great Empire of Iran conquered the world. Once they absorbed the vast resources of Europe, Iran would be coming across the Atlantic to invade America. Their army would be unstoppable. China had been content to sit on the sidelines and do nothing to stop them. The Empire had been smart enough to leave the Chinese alone. China might be motivated to wake up and do something if America fell to the Empire.

“Sir, a large number of vehicles are headed towards Beck Castle.”

“The military?”

“No, sir, civilians.”

The screen showed twenty-three vehicles driving in the direction of Beck Castle. They weren’t exactly on a direct course to the Castle, but they were heading in the general direction.