Things would have been difficult, if not for Evan Godfrey's support. The Senator's star shined once again, but this time he used his popularity to encourage support for the temporary military leadership, apparently forgetting all his fables of a military-intelligence conspiracy.
On another front, the press grew suspicious in regards to the lack of military action against the perpetrators of the assassination. The constant 'no comments' and denials of new force deployments began to pique the interest of the media.
Jon heard footsteps descend the stairs into the basement and turned to see Ashley. Her eyes glared and her words came across in a tone suggesting she shared the media's curiosity. "Tell me. I need to know that Trevor's death isn't going unpunished." Jon placed both hands on her shoulders. "The Witiko Chancellor gave us the location of the Centurian base." "Is the information trustworthy?" "Long range aerial recon confirmed the location." "What are you planning to do, launch an early invasion of Mexico?" "No. We're not ready for that. Besides, with the dreadnoughts I don't need a whole army." "Good. Tell me, how many of the ships did you send?" Jon's mouth worked but no sound came out. "Jon, How many did you send?" — More than three million once called the greater Monterrey area in northeastern Mexico home. Many of them thought of their city as "La Ciudad de las Montanas" ("City of the Mountains") because of the abrupt peaks of the Sierra Madre Oriental range to the south.
Armageddon, however, had turned Monterrey into a wasteland.
In addition to dealing with alien predators and raiding parties attracted to such a large population base, the town of Monterrey faced another kind of danger back during that first summer of the invasion: an Earthquake. The disaster knocked tall buildings flat and also ruptured both fuel tanks and gas lines igniting an inferno that burned unchecked for three months. The quake and fire leveled or incinerated nearly two thirds of the city, creating uninhabitable barrens. Therefore, on the morning of June 3 ^ rd, the stretch of land that had once been a Mecca for tourists, history buffs, and Latin American business interests resembled a vast field of black ash and chunks of collapsed building blocks. Except, however, for the white modular alien buildings centered on the half-standing remains of the Estadio Tecnologico football stadium.
The base had grown in segments with each segment connected via covered walkways circling out in rings from a spherical center. The buildings came in a variety of shapes and sizes, some two stories tall, most only one; some with eight sides, a few with five, many more with four. High powered light posts blanketed the entire complex.
Round landing pads sat between the buildings, receptacles for the Centurians' airships. Several large garages on the outer rings of the base served as holding pens for ground vehicles.
A storm had passed through the night before, leaving in its wake a trail of thin gray clouds. Those clouds bulged then parted then scattered before the might of humanity's Empire.
All three of the massive dreadnoughts approached from the north, descending to five thousand feet at the edge of town. The Excalibur — the flagship of the fleet-led the way with the Philippan and the Chrysaor on her flanks. The engines reverberated like rolling, steady thunder; the shadows of the beasts blocked the sun.
Woody Ross led the fleet from his position as the Excalibur's 'brain.' He eyed the Centurian base below through the ship's telescopic lenses. He saw rows of Centurians standing outside their buildings dressed in variations of red and white uniforms. Those who did not wear helmets displayed their race's big black eyes, thin noses, and dark green skin making the Centurians one of the few alien invaders conforming to pre-Armageddon notions of extraterrestrials, except that instead of being 'little' green men the typical Centurian stood taller and wider than a human. Some of those extraterrestrials stared skyward at the approaching doom, others loitered as if unaware of fate's approach. Ross spoke a chilling order to his bridge crew as well as Captains Hoth and Kaufman. "Prepare to fire; charge belly boppers to one-hundred percent."
Next, Ross broadcast across several radio frequencies. As he transmitted, the energy pools feeding the Excalibur's main guns filled to a level never matched outside of training missions, causing the vessel to tremble. The other three ships vibrated in the same manner for the same reason, causing a muffled sizzle that grew louder as the power levels increased.
The former linebacker's voice spoke without his usual volume, but boomed all the same: "This is Captain Ross of the Imperial dreadnought Excalibur. In the name of Trevor Stone, I deliver the wrath of humanity."
No reaction came from the aliens. A few wandered about like zombies; most simply stood and watched. They struck Ross as ants unaware of a boot stepping toward them, a sight that came across as surreal; almost comedic to Ross' eye.
First the Excalibur fired, followed by the Philippan and then the Chrysaor. Each of the mighty vessels rocked from the kick.
Instead of pulses or blobs, the fully-charged "belly bopper" guns spewed streams of plasma into the ground below, kicking explosions of dirt and debris into the sky as if a volcano erupted. The destructive might engulfed the Centurian base several times over. A great churning river of fire glowed and rippled. The sound from the attack carried for miles, as did the tremor.
When the attack ended, Ross and his agents of destruction watched from the sky as the fireballs faded, replaced by steam and ash.
Nothing moved. The alien base no longer existed; replaced by a black scorch stretching across the already-scarred earth of Monterrey. The strongest beams and walls of the Centurian outpost melted into the soil. Satisfied with their work, the three vessels gained altitude and turned for home.
11. Vacuum
The public fed on the red meat of photographs from the destroyed Centurian outpost with a vengeful zeal. Yet Evan Godfrey knew those images-from the fleet's gun cameras-would stave off anarchy for only so long.
Still, as it had done often in the past, anarchy served as the Senator's ally. He understood something that the best politicians and comedians knew: timing is everything.
Evan gazed into the mirror and recalled his stay in that same hotel three years prior. Back then his timing had been perfect, too, but with one tragic difference: Trevor Stone returned. Such would not be the case this time, of that Evan remained confident. Dante had done as instructed; he had persuaded Jon to send the body of Trevor Stone around The Empire, allowing all the loyal subjects to see the lifeless corpse.
Unlike three years ago, no uncertainty remained. There would be no sectarian strife between Trevor loyalists and the more reasonable crowd. Those loyalists concentrated on drowning their sorrows at the local pub or raising funds for this memorial or that. Evan heard that some two dozen schools had already been renamed "Trevor Stone Elementary" or "Stone High." "Let him have the high schools, I just want his job." "Did you say something?" "I said I'm about ready to go," he replied to his wife's question from the bathroom. Sharon strolled out from there wearing a white robe, still wet from the shower. "Going? Already? Is it that late?" "Yes, my lovely wife. It seems your hangover caused you to sleep in."
She frowned for a moment, and then smiled again. Sharon smiled a lot in recent days. She had, in fact, attended two of the Emperor's memorials, like going to see a good movie twice. As much as this amused him, he saw her enthusiasm for Trevor's fate as potentially hazardous. His wife failed to grasp the importance of appearances.
"Well, we were celebrating," she pressed against him. In addition to smiling, Sharon showed a lot more affection in recent weeks, too. "Now, are you set for today?" "You know I have everything lined up. People just need to play their part, remember?" "Ah yes, you're big on role playing, aren't you?" Evan could not help but return her smile. Yes, Sharon had shown a great deal more affection in recent days, and creativity.