They were engaged several times by Valkyries, and four of his surviving soldiers were killed, but there was no solid defense. Chamberlain realized that the Shadow had deployed most of the Valkyries outside of the dome, perhaps being warned by sensors or some other means as to what direction the attack was coming from.
A wide staircase, over a hundred meters in width, led up to massive doors set at the base of the tower. Chamberlain bounded up the stairs and through the open doors. To his right, a ramp went upward along the outer wall of the tower. And he headed in that direction.
Memories flooded Dane’s essence.
Being a child in a field. Feeling the bright sun and cool breeze on his skin. The smell of the freshly cut hay.
On board a helicopter with his team returning from a Particularly dangerous mission in Cambodia, where the exhilaration of being alive mixed with exhaustion as the adrenaline rush of combat wore off.
Sin Fen and the connection his mind had shared with hers.
He could sense how close Chamberlain and his troops were.
It was all coming to an end.
Chamberlain led his troops through wide doors into the room filled with the latticework of globes.
Destroy them. They are the Shadow.
Chamberlain didn’t hesitate. “Charge,” he ordered over the battalion net.
The survivors of the First Earth Battalion dashed forward, firing as they did so.
Globes shattered under the barrage.
Chamberlain felt a wave of pain sweep through his brain and he staggered, blinded.
Dane probed the shield around the crystal sphere. It was weaker. He pushed harder, forcing the surviving members of the Shadow into a difficult decision: defend the source of their power, or defend themselves.
Unaccustomed to being attacked, having destroyed so many timelines with impunity, they failed to act decisively and tried to do both.
They failed in both.
Chamberlain was the last member of the First Earth Battalion still standing. Barely. Blood was streaming from his nose, mouth, ears and eyes from hemorrhages in his brain. There was one last Shadow globe still intact.
With great effort Chamberlain tried to aim his weapon, but he couldn’t lift it. He fell to his knees, the image of the last globe flickering on his helmet screen.
Dane could feel the essence of the last Shadow still trying to shield the crystal. He focused his power and punched through, pouring his essence into the crystal. It was as if he dove into hot lava as he felt the immense power of the globe.
He saw it then — that this crystal supplied the power that made all the portals work. He absorbed that power, drawing it in, feeling it build around him.
He remembered Sin Fen’s smile as she lay on top of the black pyramid, focusing its power against the Shadow. A similar smile crossed his face as he realized he was fulfilling his destiny.
The crystal sphere exploded.
Across multiple parallel worlds portals snapped out of existence.
EPILOGUE
As President Lincoln helped Mary into the carriage, she cried out in anguish. He gripped her wrists, keeping her from falling out.
“What is it?”
As he put her on the seat next to him, she put her hands to her head. It had been a long day, perhaps the best and worst week of his life. Just five days ago General Grant had accepted lee’s surrender at Appomattox. Lincoln had traveled to Richmond where he had been wildly cheered by troops and freed slaves. He’d been asked by the ranking Union officer how to treat the people of the former Southern capital. He’d told the general to “let them up easy,” in I accordance with his policy of integrating the South back into the Union as smoothly and quickly as possible.
General Grant and his wife were supposed to be joining them for the trip to Ford Theater this evening, but at the last minute, the general had begged off, citing other responsibilities.
Then Mary had had two visions during the day: one of which showed Sherman’s army winning a final victory; the other showing her husband’s body laid out in the East Room of the White House and a voice saying “Lincoln is dead.”
The president had been uncertain how to interpret these two visions. Perhaps she had had another vision. He leaned close. “What is it?” he repeated.
Mary lifted her head and surprisingly there was a wide smile on her face. “They’re gone.”
“What’s gone?”
“The voice. The visions. They’re gone. I’m free.”
Lincoln wrapped his long arm around his wife. Her body felt loose, the tenseness that had always been present was gone. She lifted her face toward his, and he kissed her.
“Let’s skip the play,” she whispered.