In her own way equally impervious, Linda smiled with a warmth to rival the sun of her homeland. She glanced about Bob's office, mentally comparing his trophies and mementos-golf, business, and such-with her husband's, much to the favor of the latter. I am proud to be the mother of my husband's children.
Truth to tell she found the entire office to be borderline tacky, unrestrained and unrefined. It wouldn't do to mention that, though.
"Linda," Bob greeted, without noticeable enthusiasm.
She didn't answer directly. Being old money, she was probably better at playing status games than Uncle Bob when she cared to play them. Instead, she placed Milagro down on the floor and said, "Go see your grand-uncle, ninos."
The two little ones scurried around Bob's imposing desk. The eldest, the boy, strode like a young prince, before putting out his hand to shake, formally. By that time Milagro had already climbed aboard.
Still sitting in his chair, his throne, Bob looked down into a lovely little girl's enormous brown eyes, saw the image of the nephew that was more like a son, and felt his heart melting.
He looked up to say something to Linda. She was looking out of his office window, wide eyed, speechless, an expression of shock written on every curve of her unlined face. Bob's eyes followed and saw. Mouth gaping wide, he exclaimed, "Oh, my God!"
Columbian Airlines Flight 39, 0849 hrs
The airship hit near the base of the skyscraper. Its structure, even while coming apart, was just strong enough to force its nose through the thin walls and into the main lobby with its toxic dose of international lawyers. As the ship lost speed to the collision, its engines in the rear broke loose and drove forward, smearing passengers and crew alike, before tearing out of the remains of the front and smashing into the shocked barristers. With the engines came a great invisible cloud of hydrogen gas, pouring into the open lobby before igniting from a spark created by the one of the engines tearing through a steel support.
The hydrogen began burning in front, incinerating several score shrieking attorneys. Then the flames raced through the rich oxygenhydrogen mix present in the tunnels carved through the ship by the flying engines. Flame then burst out of the rear, tearing open the hydrogen cells there. The contents of these, once mixed with oxygen, effectively exploded, driving the remains of the ship, and much of its hydrogen, farther into the lobby of the TNTO. There it burned hot enough to incinerate several thousand more international jurists, as well as to set aflame anything therein remotely flammable.
Yusef and company, however, didn't get to see any of that. They were dead and on their way to wherever and whatever might prove to be their final reward, moments after the ship's nose touched concrete.
Terra Nova Trade Organization,
0849 hours, 11/7/459 AC
Arms clutched protectively around the now crying Milagro, Bob rushed to the side of the fallen mother. Julio followed.
"What happened?" she asked, groggily.
"I don't know, I don't know," answered a shocked Bob as he helped her to her feet. "The LTAs never come that close. Jesus, it hit us!" He thought about that for a moment, then amended, "No, it crashed into us. On purpose. Christ!"
As Bob spoke, the fire sprinklers came on overhead, sprayed for a few seconds, and then died as pressure from below fell to nothing. The pipes had been cut. Unchecked by the sprinklers, smoke and the hint of flame began rising past the exterior windows.
Milagro began coughing as faint smoke filtered into the office complex. Minutes passed as Linda soothed the child, Julio calming the next oldest beside her. Just as the last tears were wiped and the last sniffles snuffed, Julio looked up and pointed out the window and across the city to where another airship closed on a building only just less grand than the TNTO. That was the headquarters for the Global News Network, based in First Landing.
Julio said, "Mom, there's another one…"
Cochea, 0903 hours, 11/7/459 AC
Hennessey and his two friends missed the first impact. However, like the rest of the world, they saw it replayed over and over in the next several minutes.
"Dear, God!" Hennessey exclaimed, once he made the visual connection. Stomach sinking and heart pounding he added, "That's my uncle Bob's building." He raced for the phone, frantically dialing his cousin Annie's number in First Landing.
1050 5th Avenue, First Landing
"Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT, STOP that ringing!" Bad as the ringing was, the sound of her own shout seemed enough to tear the top off of Annie's head. She shuddered and pulled a pillow over in an attempt to shut out the nagging phone. No such luck. It continued to ring.
"Shit," she muttered. "May as well see who it is."
Slowly, reluctantly, not a little angrily, Annie stumbled to the phone.
"Who is it?" Annie asked, her voice still distorted by alcohol. After Linda had left her at the restaurant, she had consumed more than her share of Black Russians before going home alone.
"Annie, it's Pat. Where's Uncle Bob right now?"
Anger drained from Annie's voice. "Oh, hi, Pat. I imagine he's at the office. Why?"
Hennessey's voice in the telephone receiver was frantic. "Turn on the TV, Annie. Something's happened at the TNTO."
"Sure… okay…" Annie walked unsteadily to pick up the television's remote. The set came to instant life just in time for the woman to catch the second airship slamming into GNN Headquarters. For several seconds she stood dumbfounded, then blurted into the phone, voice breaking with tears, "Pat… Linda and the kids are in there!"
On Annie's screen, another plane struck low at the World League Headquarters. There were three buildings burning now on the First Landing skyline, with smoke and flames beginning to billow up and out.
TNTO, 0915 hours
It was pandemonium. Office workers ran to and fro frantically, looking for some escape. Cute little secretaries in short skirts wept. Some people, those a bit calmer or braver, punched numbers into their cell phones for a last goodbye to their loved ones.
The smoke inside was worse now, though it was still not clearly visible to the naked eye. Outside, however, it was an angry black cloud rising past the windows like a swarm of vicious wasps. Tongues of flame licked up occasionally, though the greatest flames were just visible through the smoke, dancing around the GNN building.
Milagro-clutched in Linda's arms now-coughed from the smoke and cried. Her elder sister, nicknamed "Lambie," tried to be brave though a quivering lip and dampened eyes betrayed her. The boy, Julio, put an arm around Lambie's shoulder and hugged her close and tightly.
Uncle Bob had left them for a few moments to check on the possibilities of escape via elevator or stairwell. He returned, looked at Linda, then shook his head slightly. No way out.
At his nod, she steeled her face and pushed her emotions away before they themselves ran away with her. For the nonce, she also pushed away the decision: burned or crushed or fallen? Oh, my babies, why? What did you ever do to harm anyone?
A hand gently brushed the baby's hair and cheek, brushed away a tear and a bead of sweat. The floor was growing noticeably warmer. "Don't cry, Milli, we'll be fine," she lied.
Taking his cue from his mother, ten-year-old Julio said much the same to Lambie. Even as he spoke those few words of comfort, he looked at his mother meaningfully. We're going to die, aren't we, Mom?
Linda answered, indirectly, "I wish your father could see you now. He would be so proud of his son."
The boy smiled, as best he could manage, and nodded. He wished his father could see him, too, see him grow up to be a man. He had wanted to be a soldier like his dad. Well, he would act like one now.