Alex was restless by the fourth hour of the flight to Colorado. She had tried to sleep with her head against Shepherd’s shoulder but it was useless. Too many thoughts. Too many questions. Too many worries. They were just now reaching the outskirts of Denver. Alex stood in the cockpit behind the pilot and co-pilot, holding on to the backs of their seats for balance. The light bled from the sky above Colorado as the sun set beyond the Rocky Mountains. A faint orange afterglow silhouetted the peaks and offered hints of the deserted skyscrapers and highways below. The Directorate had established several communities outside of Denver with the goal of eventually settling the metropolis itself.

But how are we doing it? she wondered, thinking back to Topeka and the work camp. Are there other places like that?

She braced herself as the aircraft banked south toward Colorado Springs. They had avoided a straight flight path from DC to remain beyond the range of the Directorate’s air defense network around Colorado Springs. During the early legs of the flight, she had considered contacting Cheyenne Mountain and demanding to talk to General Harrison. Except what good would that do? The Directorate would never stand down against the NEA’s advance, just as the NEA had refused to slow the invasion on Martin’s vague urgings a few hours earlier. Martin could only do so much from the C-130. If he tried to halt to the invasion, President Resnick would relieve him of command. The orders on both sides were clear: fight and give no quarter.

Once the aircraft leveled, Alex returned to the operations center Martin and Webb had established at the communications terminal in the rear cabin. Both men sat at the terminal with radio headsets over their ears. Shepherd stood behind them, watching with his arms crossed. She wanted to ask Shepherd about the team’s mission to Fort Riley but she was afraid Webb might overhear. She didn’t want him to know the Directorate had sent the team to assassinate Martin. Alex went to Shepherd and held his hand, intertwining her fingers with his.

“Feeling okay?” he said.

“Nervous,” she said.

Shepherd grinned. “Glad I’m not the only one.” Then his expression turned serious as he gestured at Webb. “You sure we can trust him? After he shot your dad. After he shot you.”

“I know, but we don’t have a choice. Plus, I… I don’t think he wants to hurt me.”

“I’d still like to put a bullet in his head.”

Alex didn’t reply but part of her felt the same way. The other part returned to the memories she had seen – Webb’s memories – and to something else. An emotion that had come during their connection. An emotion she did not want to feel after all Webb had done. Sympathy. Sympathy for his horrible childhood, the years he had spent alone wandering the United States. Her own life had been sheltered, and although her father was often distant, he had always been there for her along with Lunde and everyone else in Cheyenne Mountain. She had been cared for and loved. Webb had been hated and feared.

But he shot Dad. He killed all those people.

And how many did you kill in Kansas City? You know the number. Is he worse because he shot your dad? Because he stabbed Nicole in self-defense? Wouldn’t you have tried to do the same?

Shepherd placed his other palm on top of her hand. She realized she had been squeezing his fingers tightly. She eased her grip.

Something else was bothering her as well: the veins in her hands and wrists. When she looked at them closely, she could see the black lines just beneath the skin. It was not something Shepherd or Martin had noticed, and Webb had not spoken of it since Washington. The fact her blood had turned from red to black was alarming enough. But it was not just a change in color; the fluid moving through her body was something entirely new, like thick oil that quickly dried and disintegrated when it met with air. She pictured the darkness taking over, infecting her organs, her muscles, everything in her body. Then she remembered the dream where she had looked in the mirror and seen her face with the worm-like stalks replacing her eyes.

“You sure you’re okay?” Shepherd said.

“I’m fine.”

“In that case… Have you decided exactly what you’re going to do once we hit the ground?”

Before she could answer, Webb and Martin turned at once toward them. Martin removed his headset.

“What is it?” Alex said. “What happened?”

“Our forces made contact. It’s a skirmish on our southern flank.”

“And it’s going to get a lot bigger,” Webb said. “One of General Park’s howitzer batteries is almost in range of Fort Carson. It’ll only be a few minutes before they open up.”

“What about Peterson?” Alex said.

“General Anderson is leading that advance,” Martin said. “It’s the main effort. They’re already expecting to start receiving fires.”

“How long until we land?”

Martin had identified a small airfield just north of Colorado Springs along Interstate 25. The strip had once served the United States Air Force Academy, where both Martin and Bedford had been classmates. The airfield had remained deserted until the start of the war with the NEA. Now, the Directorate was using the strip to relieve the pressure on Peterson. Alex had hoped they would arrive before the fighting began. Now, she only hoped they could get on the ground before the NEA overran the Directorate’s lines.

“If that turn was Denver, then we’re only fifty miles out,” Martin said. “Not more than ten minutes at this speed.”

Alex did a quick calculation. The drive from the airfield to Peterson would take at least fifteen minutes. That assumed they could find a vehicle at or near the airfield, commandeer it, and make it to the base without any further delays. Altogether, in a best-case scenario, it would take at least half an hour to reach the front lines. She considered asking the pilots to make straight for Peterson itself and attempt a landing. Then she remembered the Directorate’s anti-aircraft defenses, the missiles and cannons accurate enough to shoot a mortar round out of the sky. Even if she identified herself over the radio, she doubted anyone would let an NEA aircraft land at Peterson in the middle of a battle.

“Holy shit,” one of the pilots said.

Alex looked into the cockpit. The sun had finally vanished beyond the horizon, allowing darkness to overcome the plains east of Colorado Springs. Iridescent lines of tracer fire swept across the sky fifty miles away while fiery lances arced over the battlefield behind burning shells and rockets and missiles. Explosive munitions found their targets and detonated in dazzling plumes of yellow, orange, and red before vanishing into smoke. The glowing streaks of light reminded her of a laser show from a past New Year’s Eve celebration at Peterson. Except this was a battle just like New York and Kansas City, and as beautiful as it appeared from the air, it would be nothing like that on the ground with the gunfire, the roar of tank engines and aircraft turbines, the whistling of falling artillery, and the screams of dying soldiers.

“How much longer?” Alex said.

The pilot glanced at his console but then the copilot reached over and shook his arm while pointing at something beyond the cockpit. The pilot followed his partner’s gaze out toward the horizon. Alex looked as well but couldn’t see anything except the flashes of light from the battle. The pilot glanced back past Alex. “General! You need to see this!”

Shepherd was the first to appear beside Alex, then Webb, then finally Martin. The already cramped cockpit became suffocating. Alex found herself cramped in a corner, pressed up against the back of the co-pilot’s chair.

“What is it?” Webb said.

The pilot pointed straight out at the window. “Right there. About forty degrees south.”

The men leaned in close. Alex felt frustrated but then she saw it, just beyond where Peterson would have shown against the darkness if not for the self-imposed blackout: a glimmering light like a twinkling star ascending into the night sky.

“Get us on the ground.” Webb’s voice was hoarse. “Right now. Get us on the ground.”

“What’s going on?” Alex said.

“Captain Shepherd,” General Martin said, “I wouldn’t expect you to release this information under normal circumstances, but I think the situation warrants an exception. Is that one of the road mobiles?”

Shepherd looked at Martin for a long moment before nodding slowly.

Alex still felt confused. “Road… what? What do you mean?”

Webb shook his head and then said, “We’ve heard rumors that the Directorate was pulling old nukes out of their silos and converting the missiles for use on mobile platforms. As if your bomber wasn’t enough.”

“You mean we’re… We’re hitting back with a nuke?” Alex said.

“It’s not coming back down,” Webb said.

“Then what…?”

Shepherd said calmly, “General Harrison’s going to even the playing field.”

EMP, she realized. They’re going to detonate it straight above Colorado Springs and knock out every single electronic device outside the mountain.

“We’re still a few minutes out from the airfield,” the pilot said.

“Put us down on the goddamn highway if you have to,” Webb said. “I don’t care if you sheer the wings off. We need to get out of the air. Now.”

“Understood, sir. I suggest you all go buckle up. This is going to be rough.”

They left the cockpit and went to the cabin. Webb helped Martin into one of the seats and buckled the general’s safety harness. Then he sat next to Martin and secured himself in. He took a headset from the wall and placed it over his ears. Alex and Shepherd sat down across the compartment. As soon as Alex put on one of the headsets, she heard Webb broadcast to her, “How much is it going to take for you to see the kind of people you’re working for? You bomb Washington, and now you’re launching nukes.”

“My father would never have done this. You should have thought about that before you shot him.”

“This started with you in New York. Maybe you should ask Captain Shepherd what his orders really were going into that mission.”

Shepherd put on his own headset in time to catch the end of Webb’s remarks. “We were there to discuss a treaty. You attacked us by blowing up that bridge.” His voice was calm and even but she noticed a hint of something in his eye, something that had been there before he had shot the two men on the bridge and in the instant before he had struck Ellzey in the hospital lobby at Peterson.

“A treaty,” Webb scoffed. “Is that why General Bedford sent a special operations unit? To discuss diplomacy? How much training have you had in that field, Captain?”

“Gentlemen,” Martin said. “Please. Let’s focus on making it to the ground.”

Webb sat back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. Shepherd did the same.

“Beginning descent now,” the pilot broadcast. “Hold on.”

The aircraft dropped. Alex felt her stomach rise. The flight had been smooth from Washington to Colorado but now the cabin shook and bounced. The turbulence jostled her in her seat. She almost smashed her head into Shepherd before she managed to steady herself and tighten her harness. The groan from the turboprops was audible even through the noise-canceling headset. She craned her neck back to look out the window. Shepherd grabbed her and pointed down at the floor. “Don’t look. It’s going to be—”

A soft glow brightened the cabin. Alex saw the windows for an instant like fields of snow. Then light entered the compartment. All detail vanished. She shut her eyes but nothing changed. Even as she raised her hands to cover her face, there was only pure, absolute white. She thought for a moment she might have gone blind, her retinas burned away. Slowly, the luminescence faded. She opened her eyes.

A green radiance lit the aircraft’s interior. She looked out the window. A ball of fire hung above Colorado as if a new sun had exploded into existence. The corona burned white in the center and bright green along the edges. Great feather-like formations extruded from the blast like the wings of a giant bird. The wings grew, reaching toward the curves of the earth before fading. A fiery shockwave expanded across the sky and wiped out the clouds that had obscured the moon and stars. The ring of green fire slowed and lost some of its color as it reached the horizon. Then it froze, sitting like a halo above the earth.

The engines sputtered and then went silent. The overhead lights in the cabin flickered before going dark. The roar from the turbines lessened, and the entire airframe creaked and grumbled. A kaleidoscope replaced the green glow from outside. The color shifted first to purple then to a bright then dark red. Alex saw Webb shouting toward the cockpit. However, his voice did not broadcast into her headset. She removed the headset and heard the pilot yell, “Everything’s gone! Engines are dead, all of our electronics!”

“Just get us on the ground!” Webb said.

“We’re going to hit the ground, all right!” the pilot said.

Alex looked at Shepherd and took his hand. He seemed abnormally calm. He gave her palm a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll make it. Don’t worry.”

Outside, the sky was a subdued orange. The ball of fire had become a dull semicircle of red, blocking out the lesser stars. Faint but massive white rainbows wavered through the atmosphere like streamers falling to earth. She looked toward Peterson. There were no longer any streaks of light rising into the sky, no tracers from weapons fire, no missiles or rockets or explosions. They were either too low to see the battle or the fighting had come to a standstill.

The ground resolved from the darkness. The details were sparse but she could tell the earth was only a few meters below. The nuclear glow revealed the northbound and southbound lanes of Interstate 25. The aircraft paralleled the road before the lanes curved off into Colorado Springs. A grove of trees, then a thin, winding stream, and finally a flat expanse of land blurred by beneath them. Alex turned away from the windows, braced herself, and closed her eyes.

The impact threw her toward the front of the cabin. The safety straps dug hard into her shoulders and belly, causing her to grimace. The airframe shook, rattling Alex’s teeth and making her feel nauseous. A horrifying image entered her mind: the C-130 ripping apart, her seat breaking away from the wall with her still strapped into it, the tumbling fall to the tarmac, and the trailing half of the aircraft slamming into her and crushing her flat. She tightened her grip on Shepherd’s hand. Her body shook and not just from the turbulence. She tried to focus on the aircraft, to picture it and make every component spring into view so that she could will them to stay together just long enough for the C-130 to come to a stop. But it was too dark, there was too much noise, and there were only brief flashes, nothing her mind could grasp.

A shriek of metal overpowered and obliterated the competing cacophony. The airframe heaved. Then the right side of the cabin where Martin and Webb sat plunged down as the aircraft tilted to its side. Bright yellow sparkled beyond the starboard windows. An explosion preceded a haze of smoke that engulfed the aircraft. Sparks beat against the airframe as the C-130’s hull ground against the tarmac. The aircraft began to spin, shoving Alex hard into her seat. She shut her eyes tight, expecting the vision she had seen moments earlier to become reality. Then everything slowed and went still.

Cheers came from the cockpit. Shepherd shook her, gently. She opened her eyes. The cabin was dark but she saw the outlines of his face and the familiar curve of his grin. “Told you we’d be all right.”

“Give me a headcount back there!” the pilot said. “Everyone make it?”

“We’re fine.” Webb was already out of his harness and attending to Martin. “What the hell happened?”

“Starboard landing gear collapsed. We came in a bit heavy, I’d say!”

“We need to get out of here,” the copilot said. “Engine four’s still burning.”

Alex and Shepherd unbuckled themselves and stood. The cabin floor slanted down at a forty-five-degree angle, making it difficult to maintain balance. Across the compartment, Webb had helped Martin out of his seat and both were moving toward the door at the front of the aircraft.

The outside air was thick with smoke and cold despite the burning wreckage. Flames rose from the second engine on the starboard wing. The right side of the aircraft was ruined. The blades of both propellers had sheared off from contact with the tarmac, pieces of the landing gear lay strewn across the ground, and sections of the airframe were bent and mangled and in some places torn away. Alex looked up and saw that shifting orange and yellow formations resembling cirrus clouds had replaced the white bands in the night sky. She realized it was an aurora, something she had seen only in pictures and videos. The two pilots ran once they were out the door. “Wouldn’t stay around if I were you!” one of them yelled.

They followed the advice and jogged after the two men. Before they were more than fifty meters away from the wreckage, there was shouting and a single gunshot.

“No one move!”

“Hold your fire!” Shepherd said.

“Identify yourselves!”

Three Directorate soldiers stood at the edge of the tarmac. They aimed their weapons at the pilots.

Shepherd shouted back, “Captain Ryan Shepherd, Echo Team 1st SOU!”

The three men looked at each other. There was an awkward pause before one of them yelled, “We were told there wouldn’t be any more flights! We have orders to keep this airfield locked down!”

“Tell your men to lower their weapons, or I’m going to do it for them,” Webb said.

Alex glanced back. “I’ve got it,” she said with a tone of warning and then raised both her hands and moved forward. As soon as she passed the pilots, the three soldiers swiveled their weapons to point at her.

“Stop!”

“We’re not armed!” At least not conventionally, she thought, although Webb had taken back her handgun on the roof of the Executive Residence. “I’m Alexandra Bedford. I’m General Bedford’s daughter. I need to get to Peterson.” She stopped as soon as she could make out the men’s nametapes and ranks. Specialist Osborne, the highest-ranking of the three, seemed barely of conscription age while the two privates, Basler and Malina, looked even younger.

I must have looked like that once. When I first showed up for training with the team. Young and inexperienced. And now…?

Alex studied the soldiers. Osborne appeared to be the steadiest with calm, suspicious eyes. The other two looked nervous, continually glancing at each other. Alex doubted any of them had a proper sight picture given the way they held their weapons. Anyone with experience, she guessed, was at the front fifteen miles away. She turned slightly to allow the glow from the burning C-130 to illuminate her face. However, they didn’t seem to recognize her; their weapons remained pointed in her direction.

She spotted a mangled strut from the C-130’s landing gear. The strut was about two feet long and only a few meters away. She looked at Webb, stared at him, and cocked her head slightly toward the strut once she had his attention. He looked confused at first but then nodded. Alex hoped he understood.

“Don’t shoot,” she said, turning back to the three soldiers. “Just watch.” She reached her hand out toward the strut, paused, and then raised her arm. There was a slight delay before the object followed her motion into the air. Webb traced the movements of her hand, bringing the strut between Alex and the guards, spinning it several times, and then gently lowering it back to the tarmac.

“I’m Alexandra Bedford.”

Slowly, the soldiers lowered their weapons.

“That’s an NEA aircraft,” Specialist Osborne said in a wary voice. Then he added, “Hell of a landing, by the way.”

“Damn right it was,” the pilot said from a few meters back.

“And those four…” Basler began, gesturing at Webb, Martin, and the two pilots.

“Don’t worry about it,” Shepherd said, coming up to Alex’s side. “We have it under control. I know the EMP knocked everything out, but—”

“You need a vehicle, sir?” Osborne said. “To get to Peterson?” The suspicion was gone. He looked relieved to see Shepherd and sounded eager to help.

Shepherd nodded. “Got something that will run?”

“They said most of what we had out here would get fried.” Osborne gestured toward a parking lot near the terminal. “I heard they were trying to shield a bunch of stuff across the Springs, but they didn’t have time to do that out here. They sent a couple of old beaters that were supposed to keep working even if our Humvees went down. I’m surprised they still—”

The explosion was muffled and far away but it caused all of them to pause and glance to the southeast. A brilliant glow rose from beyond the grove of trees separating the airfield from Interstate 25. Another detonation followed. The lull in battle was over.

“About that car,” Shepherd said.

“Yes, sir,” Osborne said. “She’s all yours if she works.”

Martin paused to speak to the pilots as the rest of them followed Osborne toward the parking lot. “Gentlemen, I think you’ll be safer waiting here. If you’re taken into custody, please cooperate. I believe this will all be over soon. I’m sorry for the inconvenience and for your aircraft.”

“Not a problem, General,” the pilot said. “We figured this would be a one-way trip once we saw the destination. It was an honor having you onboard.” Both of the men saluted. Martin returned the gesture before turning to go. Alex watched the pilots as they glanced at each other, shrugged, and sat down on the pavement to watch the burning wreckage of the C-130 and the light show overhead. Basler and Malina remained next to them, holding their weapons at the low ready but appearing confused by the whole situation. Alex couldn’t blame them.

When they reached the parking lot, Osborne slung his weapon and withdrew a flashlight from the pocket of his uniform. He clicked the tail cap, clicked it again, and then twisted it, but nothing happened. “Damn it. They said our flashlights would be fine.”

“How long have you known they were going to do this?” Alex said.

Osborne continued into the lot, glancing at each of the vehicles they passed. “Our LT told us about the plan this morning before they pulled him and the rest of our platoon back to Peterson. They left us here to pull security. The LT said they were going to launch a nuke up into space and blow it up as soon as the NEA got here. Said we probably wouldn’t have much warning. Hey, here we go.”

Osborne stopped at a rundown station wagon. Alex at first thought he was joking. Even in the shadow of the terminal, she noticed the rust on the car’s chassis and tire rims. The rear window and bumper were missing while electrical tape masked the left blinker. She almost laughed when she saw the pair of fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror. Osborne reached into his pocket and withdrew a key. “They gave us two of these old beaters. Trust me, this is the better one.”

Shepherd took the key from Osborne and unlocked the door. He had to yank hard to get it to open. He sat in the driver’s seat, put the key into the ignition, and turned it. A sputter and grinding metal answered. Alex looked toward Peterson and the explosions flickering along the horizon. Maybe it would be better if they started running on foot. But after another bout of scraping and gnashing, the engine started. Shepherd left the car idling and stepped back out.

“Sir,” Osborne said hesitantly, “mind if I ask something?”

“Go ahead,” Shepherd said.

Osborne went on at a whisper, “What exactly is going on? That plane. Those pilots. Those two.” He glanced at Webb and Martin. “If we get through all this, I’m going to have a hell of a time explaining why there’s a burning NEA C-130 on our runway.”

Shepherd looked at Alex. She realized he did not have an answer to Osborne’s question. She hadn’t told him what was going on – not really. She hadn’t told Martin or Webb or anyone. She had told them she would try to end the conflict, stop the war, and keep anyone else from dying. But even she only had a vague idea of how she was going to fulfill that promise. First, she had to get to Peterson and find someone in charge; she needed an update of the situation to see what they were up against.

“If you could stop all this fighting, would you do it?” Alex said.

“Yeah, I would,” Osborne said. “Our LT tried to make it sound like everything was okay, but if they sent him and the rest of our guys off to fight… I mean we’re not even a combat unit. None of us has fired a shot since basic. Hell, if they just set off a damn nuke right above us, it must not be going too well. And from the sound of things…” He looked nervously toward the east.

“Well, I’m going to try to end it. Not just this battle, but the whole war.”

“You can do that?”

“I hope so.”

Osborne nodded. Alex could tell he wanted a better explanation, but after a moment, he gestured at the burning C-130. “I’m going to see what we can do to put that out. Good luck. I hope you make it to Peterson all right.”

“Thank you.”

“Keep your heads down out here,” Shepherd said and then gestured at the M16 slung over Osborne’s shoulder. “Remember to keep a proper cheek weld if you have to fire that thing. Nose on the charging handle, focus on the front sight, and squeeze the trigger. Keep it to one round at a time. Don’t go full auto.”

Osborne smiled. “Roger that, sir.” They saluted before Osborne departed back to the flight line where the two NEA pilots along with Private Basler and Malina were now sitting together on the tarmac.

Alex and Shepherd stood on the driver’s side of the station wagon with Webb and Martin opposite. They stared across the car roof at each other. She had not thought about what they would do once they found transport from the airfield to Peterson. It was easy enough to leave the NEA pilots in the care of Osborne, Basler, and Malina, but she didn’t intend to leave Webb to run amuck behind the Directorate’s lines. And Webb wasn’t going to leave her to her own devices, either.

“You’re not leaving my sight,” Webb said as if reading her mind.

“You really think they’ll just let you into Peterson?”

“If the security here is any indication…”

“Alexandra,” Martin broke in. “I believe I know what you have in mind. I’d like for us to come with you as far as we can. Captain Shepherd, I’m sure you can find a way to get us into Peterson. We won’t cause any trouble. Aaron will leave as soon as it becomes… necessary for Alexandra to act without interference.”

You’ve got it backwards, she thought. I need him to cause interference if it starts getting out of control.

Shepherd looked at Alex again. She felt their roles had reversed, with him following her and providing support while she made the decisions and led the way. She realized at once how much she had preferred her old job to his. “Okay. Let’s go.” Then to Webb, she said, “But if you hurt anyone in Peterson…”

Webb shook his head dismissively and got into the station wagon. Martin moved in next to him. Shepherd sat at the steering wheel, and Alex went around the car to the front passenger seat. She closed the door and reached to her right shoulder. The safety belt was missing. The engine groaned as Shepherd reversed out of the parking lot and started along a dirt road leading toward Interstate 25. Alex stared out the window. The feathery auroras danced in the night sky while flashes of white light blazed up and then died on the eastern horizon.

Shepherd sped up as soon as they reached the interstate. The acceleration was jerky, and the engine whined with each shift in gear. Alex worried the station wagon would shake itself to pieces before they even got close to Peterson. Soon, they neared an off-ramp leading down into Colorado Springs. Shepherd slowed. She gave him a questioning glance; a drive through the city would get them to Peterson, but not quickly. Then she realized he was staring at something in the sky: a dark silhouette against the nuclear glow. The shape approached low to the ground from the southeast, growing larger and barely clearing the roofs and trees beneath it. Suddenly, it was on top of them. The scream caused Alex to duck forward and press her hands against her ears. The car bounced to the side of the road, almost careening off the shoulder and down the embankment. Shepherd managed to regain control, slamming on the breaks and bringing them to a stop.

“What the hell was that?” Webb said.

Shepherd got out of the station wagon. Alex checked herself over and then opened the door and stepped out as well. She looked toward the Rocky Mountains and saw two pairs of flickering blue flames moving away from the interstate. The shape belonged to an aircraft. She thought the aircraft would crash into one of the mountain peaks but then it turned west, hugging the uphill slope and then veering up and away from the silhouette of the Rockies before resolving against one of the undulating auroras in the sky. She recognized the aircraft immediately, the shape like a thin arrowhead, smooth and aerodynamic – a B-1B Lancer, the Valkyrie, the Directorate’s nuclear bomber.

“No!” Webb was out of the car and tracking the aircraft against the sky. He looked directly at Alex and shouted, “Stop that thing! Now!”

“What? No. That’s one of ours.”

“And where the hell do you think it’s going?”

The bomber came out of its long arc, now speeding away to the northeast. She could no longer see the outline of the fuselage, but the blue flames from the Valkyrie’s engines persisted against the darkness. Then those, too, disappeared into the night.

Webb started around the car toward Alex. Shepherd grabbed him and shoved him against the door. Webb shouted, “You people already destroyed Washington! What now? The entire East Coast?”

“What do you think we’re going to do?” Alex said. “We’d never launch a first strike.”

Webb pushed Shepherd away and pointed up into the glowing red sky. “What the hell do you call that?”

Alex shook her head. “That’s different. You don’t even know where the Valkyrie is going. Maybe we’re sending it someplace safe.”

“Alexandra.” Martin said, still sitting in the back seat. His voice was calm but urgent. “It’s going east. As far as I’m aware, the Directorate doesn’t have any landing fields fit for a B-1 in that direction. It’s taking the same flight path we took from the East Coast.”

He’s wrong. The Valkyrie is just a deterrent. We’d never actually use it. If they’re sending it into the NEA’s territory, it’s just a precaution. A warning. Then she remembered Harrison and his urging to deploy the bomber against the NEA at Kansas City. General Lunde had denied the request. Now, Harrison was in charge, with complete control over the Directorate’s nuclear arsenal.

“There’s nothing I can do. It’s already gone.”

“I need to warn our government,” Martin said. “We may not be able to shoot it down, but we can evacuate our cities. It will only take the Valkyrie an hour-and-a-half to reach Washington from here. Maybe two hours for Boston or New York or Philadelphia.”

“We wouldn’t…” But her voice trailed off. She stared at the horizon and the spot where the Valkyrie had disappeared. She looked into the sky, at the glowing auroras, and the red semicircle of light marking the epicenter of the nuclear detonation. She listened to the explosions coming from the east.

“We’re already going to Peterson,” Martin said. “To the old NORAD building? To your command and control?”

Alex nodded.

“I’ve worked there, Alexandra. Before the outbreaks. It’s shielded from the effects of an EMP. You have to get a message out. Aaron can tell you how to get in touch with our command structure.”

Alex looked at Shepherd. He had let go of Webb and was already getting back into the car. Things were getting out of hand. In fact, she realized, things had been out of hand since as far back as Kansas City or even New York. Now, they were tumbling into an abyss. The NEA had cornered the Directorate, and the Valkyrie was speeding east with a belly full of nuclear cruise missiles, each capable of wiping out an entire city. If even one of those weapons reached their target, the NEA would launch its own arsenal, and the next artificial sun to rise over Colorado Springs would not be in the atmosphere, but much, much closer to the ground.

Alex was the last one into the station wagon. The moment she closed the door, Shepherd accelerated down Interstate-25 toward Colorado Springs and Peterson Air Force Base.