Like a doctor detaching himself from a patient, the General learned long ago to carry out whatever directives came along the chain of command. On those occasions when he did not care for those directives, he went to even greater pains to ensure he followed them exactly. In this case, his orders clearly stated to monitor the Excalibur and engage it with deadly force should it attempt to re-enter friendly air space.
He would do exactly that. Should Brewer's dreadnought threaten such a move, General William Hoth would blast it from the sky. On the other hand, his orders said nothing about transports.
Hoth returned his attention to the papers and waited to see what would happen next.
– When Barney heard the knock, he set aside the bowl of soup that served as lunch and walked around the kitchen counter toward the apartment door. Denise sprang to her feet from the sofa and rested one hand on the pistol in her hip holster. The Internal Security goons had seemingly left the neighborhood a couple of days ago, but one could never be sure.
Denise hid against the inside wall by the door. Barney waited until she reached position then, with his one arm, opened up.
Nina Forest stood in the doorway, a sagging pack on her back, an M-4 rifle slung over her shoulder, and a vacant expression in her eyes but that changed when she entered the apartment and saw her daughter..
"Mom! I thought you were…I mean…geez, you could have called."
Nina responded with a strong hug.
Barney said, "A bunch of guys came looking for Denise a couple of days ago. They said they had a message for her from you. I didn't buy any of it, hope that was the right call." "Yeah, um, yes, that was the right thing to do. Thank you, Barney." The mother-daughter embrace broke. "Can I go home now, mom? All my CDs are upstairs."
Barney reported, "Haven't seen anyone snooping around since the weekend. Other than the folks living here, there's only been the mail man today. Do you think it will stay that way?"
Nina answered, "I think things are going to…well, look, things are going to be okay in a day or two. We just have to keep our heads down for a while longer. Not too long, I think."
"What about Shep, mom? I heard they arrested him."
"He'll be okay. Things are…things are different. The President just doesn't know it, yet."
"Mom, are you okay? What happened?"
Nina forced a smile and kissed Denise on the head.
"Lots of stuff happened. But look, I don't have the time to go over it right now. Denise, you stay down here for a bit. I'm going upstairs to our place to make sure it's clear, maybe take a shower. I think…I think I need a little peace and quiet if you don't mind, Barney. Just for another hour or two."
Barney nodded. "You take your time. We'll be just fine."
Denise folded her arms and stuck out her lower lip as her mother left the apartment.
Barney threw his arm around the girl and told her, "You just ease up there. Your mom's been through something, doesn't take x-ray vision to see that. There's something she's got to work out on her own."
– President Evan Godfrey walked along the marble pillars of the Cross Hall with Ray Roos at his side and a small binder under his arm. He could feel the electricity in the air, much like those first press conferences when he arrived at the White House last month. Certainly the media would pepper him with questions about the lack of a Constitutional Convention, the extent of Presidential powers, and his removal of nearly a dozen administrators and political leaders appointed by the old Emperor.
Yet today Evan would be on the offensive. Today he would stand surrounded by military VIPs whose loyalty would be on display for all to see, unlike the treacherous Jon Brewer and his clan of conspirators.
Such a display would further isolate those who opposed democracy and would make the coming clash with the Excalibur much more palatable to the public. Finally, after months of planted stories, phony confessions, and 'unidentified sources', Evan Godfrey's story of a military/intelligence conspiracy would near its happy ending, leaving Internal Security in a stronger position and further accelerating the placement of friendly operatives into the armed forces hierarchy.
All for the greater good, of course, Evan thought. When the ends are so noble, certainly the means can be justified.
"Um, did you hear me, boss?"
"No," the President admitted.
Roos repeated, "General Cassy Simms has arrived with her officers, as well as General Rhodes who took over 2 ^ nd Mech when Stonewall went down." Godfrey waved his hand, "Right, right." "Well I kinda figured that wouldn't get you all up and rowdy, but both of them are from Shepherd's First Corp." That grabbed the President's attention. "And…and you think they're loyal to us?"
"Nope, not really. If I was only to bring in folks who marched to our drum then we wouldn't have any big faces for those cameras. But don't worry, Simms and Rhodes have been out west for months. They don't have much of a clue about anything that's been going on around here as of late. They'll be happy enough to smile for pictures and shake your hand when the time comes. But the point is Simms and Rhodes were both heroes at Five Armies and such. Besides, Simms never really liked the whole Winnabow thing, either. You got that in common."
"Wait a moment," Godfrey remembered. "Simms was with McAllister in the early days."
"Don't you just have the greatest memory? Yes you do. And along those lines I've also got Captain Benny Duda on the dance card. I hear he's had a lot of questions about how our dearly departed fearless Emperor handled the whole California thing. Doesn't make him one of ours, 'course, but he's not exactly singing campfire songs about Trevor Stone these days, either. I tried to get Dustin McBride, too, but it seems his unit has gone missing as of late."
"And Simms is an African-American military officer, standing by my side. That has to be good. Where are my guests?"
Roos scratched his chin. "Well, they're all out with Tucker by the northeast gate, kinda coagulating there like an impromptu family reunion. He'll be movin' them along real soon." "And Dante? Where's my Secretary of Defense?" Roos pointed a finger up, meaning the roof. "In his usual crow's nest. That fella has got himself some real issues. You sure you even want him at this?"
"Fine. Let him enjoy his air. But I want him down here in…" Godfrey consulted his watch… "in fifteen minutes. That's when this thing takes off. I want the VIPs here by then, too."
"And where you goin' to be in the meantime?"
Evan answered, "I'm going out to mingle with the press."
"I thought this thing didn't start for fifteen minutes?"
Godfrey laughed, "Oh Ray, you just don't know how to play the game, do you? Rumor has been that the President has been locked up in a bunker here at the White House for the last few weeks. Nothing to clear that air like some friendly, off the record chit-chats."
Evan left Roos behind to tend to the security arrangements and exited the building for the southwest grounds. There three rows of chairs sat gazing at a Presidential podium standing in front of the saplings he had planted upon his move to the White House. Several reporters waited among those rows of folding chairs along with two cameras and a technician wrestling with sound equipment.
Evan felt that electricity intensify. He saw the podium as his piano, the press as his audience, and today a grand concert playing out under perfect July weather: sunny, but not too hot. It seemed as if even the heavens blessed the day.
The President strode casually across the well-manicured lawn with a friendly smile and settled into the character of an approachable populist. As important the press conferences and news releases, Evan found that reporters responded well-and in a favorable manner-when you connected with them on a personal level.