Alex had attended a number of tense gatherings in Cheyenne Mountain’s briefing room: after-action reviews for training exercises that had gone poorly, the brass-heavy planning sessions for the mission to New York, and that final debriefing before Webb’s escape. The current mood in the room rivaled any of those meetings. Alex, Nicole, and Echo Team sat on one side of the room opposite a number of NEA officers. Just a few days ago, Alex never would have thought she would encounter anyone but Directorate personnel in the operations complex. Now, NEA soldiers outnumbered the Directorate at least two to one with more seeming to flood in by the hour.

The Directorate’s renovation team had given the briefing room a major face-lift along with the rest of the complex. The leather-padded chairs smelled of age but were much more comfortable than their predecessors. Steel bracings rose along the walls and across the ceiling, and two giant high-definition display screens similar to those in the operations room had replaced the projectors. The three elevated tiers and the metal desks lining the aisles remained unchanged.

Alex and Nicole sat side-by-side at the far end of the second tier, the same spot she had occupied during the New York debriefing. The members of Echo Team were one tier down. Murray sat immediately ahead with his arms crossed while glaring at the NEA soldiers across the room. Wilson sat next to him, slouched in his chair with his elbow planted on the armrest and his chin supported by his hand. Alex suspected he was asleep. Ziegler and Jarden were a few chairs over. Both men sat upright and occasionally glanced at each other. And at the end of the tier beside Atkins was Shepherd. Up at the front corner of the room, Sergeant Paul continued fiddling with a laptop and its tangle of cords that led to an elaborate audio/visual system. For a moment, Shepherd glanced back. He’s probably wondering what you’re getting him into this time. After last night in that trench…

The dozen NEA officers and senior enlisted personnel across the room all wore handguns in holsters at their sides. Webb was there, too, standing at the back of the room next to the door. She was not surprised to see him watching her and Nicole.

After leaving Peterson’s medical center, they had driven straight to Cheyenne Mountain. Webb had escorted Alex and Nicole to the briefing room. Echo arrived an hour later under armed guard. Six of those guards now stood along the back wall watching the Directorate’s half of the room. Alex found it disconcerting as if she and the team were little more than glorified prisoners. Or collaborators. She shook away the thought.

“This is why I operate on my own,” Nicole said quietly. “All these briefings, debriefings, reports, sitting around waiting for the brass. Just give me my rifle, drive me there, and let me do my job.”

“Amen,” Murray muttered from the tier below.

Nicole leaned forward. “Glad to know someone agrees. By the way, Sergeant, still interested in my number?”

Murray turned with a wide grin. “Ma’am, I’d—”

“Not a good idea, ma’am,” Wilson said. “Don’t think his old lady would approve.”

“I’m sure I could handle her,” Nicole said with amusement.

“Oh, I’m sure. It’s Pops I’m worried about. He told us a story awhile back about how she likes to wrestle with him when they’re—”

Murray coughed loudly and slapped the back of Wilson’s chair. The chair rolled forward into the edge of the desk, which caught Wilson in the stomach. He sputtered and then glowered at Murray.

“Room, attention!” Webb said.

Everyone in the room stood. General Harrison was the first through the entrance. He strode down the center pathway ahead of Lunde. Martin trailed behind with Webb. The four officers assembled in the empty front tier on the NEA’s side of the room. But no one sat. The generals looked at one another. Lunde took a barely noticeable step back, leaving Harrison staring at Martin. Neither man spoke but something seemed to pass between them. Martin looked at the assembled soldiers, both Directorate and NEA, and said, “Please, take your seats.”

“Guess we know who’s in charge now,” Nicole murmured.

Martin limped out onto the briefing floor. The brace supporting his right leg clomped on the tiles with each slow, deliberate footstep. He reached the center of the stage and turned to face the audience. His age, his wounds, and the signs of his battered body were obvious even beneath his trench coat and heavy scarf. He stood hunched slightly forward. His right arm hung at his side, a broken appendage clinging uselessly to his body. Martin’s simple metal mask with its cut-outs for his eyes and what remained of his mouth and nose appeared in the subdued lighting a murky grey instead of bright silver. Alex thought of the vision, the memory of the cemetery and her mother’s burial. Back then, his step had possessed an athletic energy. His brown hair and sharp blue eyes, his tanned skin and handsome face all spoke to a man who was alive. Now, so much of that was gone, leaving behind the man who now stood before them appearing like a villain from an old horror movie. All that remained of the old John Martin were those searching eyes, and they now seemed somehow dimmer, less brilliant, and less alive.

“Good evening,” Martin said. “I realize it’s late and… all of us have had a very, very long day. So, thank you for coming. Some of you here may feel today represents a defeat, others a victory. I assure you it is neither. What today represents is a chance for us to end this bloodshed. We are tearing this country apart. Neither side can claim innocence from that charge. For sixteen years, the two halves of this room have occupied different worlds. We’ve tried to restore order, to bring back the status quo, to bring back the country that for some is a distant memory and for many others something they never even knew. All of the Directorate’s senior staff and much of the NEA’s served under the same flag before the outbreaks. Some of us even worked together. However, we allowed ourselves to split apart. We allowed that split to widen until we were so alien from one another that the idea of talking and diplomacy seemed absurd. And so, we resorted to war. General Harrison and I have agreed to do everything in our power to rectify that divide. I’ll say up front it won’t be easy. There’s still a very long way to go.

“All of you have seen General Bedford’s transmissions. You know his demands. You know what he has promised to do if we fail to meet those demands. I’ve asked all of you here so that we can begin working together to ensure no more lives are lost, that this war ends, and that we stop destroying the very country all of us are willing to die to protect.

“I believe I’ve taken up enough of your time. General Harrison will now explain the current situation and the road ahead. Thank you.”

Martin limped off the stage but did not move to the forward tier to sit by Lunde, Webb, and Harrison. Instead, he walked to the center aisle, wincing in pain with each slow step up the stairs. He paused at the second tier to catch his breath. Then he moved toward Nicole and Alex. Everyone in the room stared at him as he pulled out one of the chairs and plopped down in the seat next to Nicole. Webb’s mouth, Alex noticed, hung slightly open. Harrison, too, seemed surprised, as did Lunde.

“Not too long-winded, I hope?” Martin whispered conspiratorially to Alex.

It took her a moment to answer; she was just as surprised as everyone else. “N-No. It was good.”

Martin smiled and then turned to Nicole. The two regarded each other for a long moment. At last, Martin said, “I hope you don’t mind sitting next to an old man. I promise not to be too much of a bother.”

“I just hope your people don’t get the wrong idea, General,” Nicole said in a good-humored voice. “After all, you did just go out of your way to sit next to the best looking woman in the room. Not that I blame you. I wouldn’t want to sit next to General Harrison either.”

Martin chuckled. “I’ll keep that between us, Ms. Serrano.”

“It’s Nicole.”

Harrison cleared his throat. The assembled men and women quickly looked away from Martin. Harrison nodded to Paul, who fiddled with his laptop and further dimmed the lights. The two displays blanketing the far wall switched on, showing a glowing blue map of the United States on the left and the Cheyenne Directorate’s spinning emblem on the right.

“I’ll keep this short,” Harrison said. “This operation remains under development. However, because of our requirement for an accelerated operational timeline, movement will start as early as tomorrow afternoon. Phase one begins when all assigned personnel depart Peterson and concludes with their arrival at Norfolk, Virginia. From there, we will transition into phase two of the operation, beginning with embarkation onto the NEA’s vessel, the USS Independence, and terminating off the Antarctic coast.”

The map screen tracked Harrison’s words, first zooming into Peterson Air Force Base and then racing east with a glowing white line ending near the coast of Virginia. The virtual map became a satellite image of a naval yard, which further zoomed in to a single ship. A diagram of the vessel replaced the Directorate’s emblem on the right monitor.

Looking down, the USS Independence’s profile resembled a rifle round with a thin, tapered bullet and a fat cartridge. The pointed bow made up almost a third of the hull’s overall length. A turreted main gun sat near the tip with a vertical missile bay just behind. The superstructure rose at a slight angle back from the bow, forming a wide bridge extending to the hull’s port and starboard side. Moving further back, the superstructure transitioned from the bridge into a hangar and then into a helicopter flight deck, which formed the flat and rectangular stern. When viewing the ship head-on, it resembled an almost perfect triangle until the base where a narrower section of the main hull continued down below the water line and two smaller outrigger hulls extended from the port and starboard sides. An on-screen text box referred to the ship as a trimaran. The design of the ship intrigued Alex; it reminded her of an old stealth aircraft.

“Travel time from Norfolk to McMurdo Station will be approximately two weeks,” Harrison said. The satellite image on the left screen transitioned back to the glowing blue map. A dotted line left Virginia and started south, following the East Coast until Florida where the route diverted past the Bahamas and the Antilles Islands. The line continued down the coast of South America, passing between the southern tip of Argentina and the Antarctic Peninsula. After an additional few hundred miles southwest, the line terminated in a glowing white dot. Harrison continued, “From here, a CH-53 will transport all designated personnel to McMurdo Station. Additional operational phases will be briefed at a later date. Are there any questions?”

The room was silent. Alex was tempted to ask, And what happens when we get to McMurdo Station? She remembered her conversation with President Resnick.

You’re going to destroy the Reagan?

Yes. And we may need your help.

That, she thought, was part of the plan she wanted to hear.

Harrison returned to his seat. General Lunde stood and went forward. The two screens shut off as the overhead lights brightened. He smiled briefly before beginning to pace slowly back and forth across the stage, shifting his gaze between the Directorate and NEA sections as he spoke. It was much different from Harrison, who had kept rigidly in place during his section of the briefing. “I’m sure you’re all are wondering why we called you here at 2200 to show off a boat and some pretty maps and not much else. All of you will be involved in this undertaking, whether onboard the USS Independence or here in Colorado. Make no mistake: this is more than a simple troop movement operation. Our objective is to prevent additional damage to this country. And by ‘country,’ I mean everything under our control all the way to the East Coast – our territory and the NEA’s.”

Lunde reached the center of the lowest tier on the Directorate’s half of the room. Instead of turning and continuing back to the NEA, he paused to look at each of the members of Echo, then up to Nicole and then Alex. He held Alex’s gaze for a long time. She began to think he had lost his train of thought but then he went on with a slight frown, “All of you are good soldiers – our best. You’ve made sacrifices for the Directorate, and you’ve shown more courage than I could ever hope to emulate. We let you down. I apologize for what happened to you at Fort Riley. With that said, I assure you the orders for that operation did not originate from anyone in this room. I’m afraid that’s all I can offer. I hope you’ll forgive me. If I’ve lost your trust, I hope someday I’ll be able to get it back.”

Lunde again locked eyes with each of the men on the lower tier: Murray and Wilson, Ziegler and Jarden, Atkins, and then finally with Shepherd. He returned to the center of the stage and concluded, “As soon as the Independence reaches its destination, we’ll assess the situation and determine if further action is required. If necessary, we’ll do everything in our power to stop another attack. That may mean destroying our own outposts here on the mainland or other targets near Antarctica. I trust all of you will do your duty if and when that time comes.” He returned to his seat.

Martin stood up and looked around the room. “All NEA personnel are dismissed. If you’re able, please get some rest. I’m afraid the next few days won’t be any shorter. You’ll receive additional information in the morning.”

The men and women on the right side of the room stood and began filing out. Soon, the only NEA personnel remaining were Martin, Webb, and the armed soldiers along the upper tier. “You men are dismissed as well,” Martin said to the soldiers. “We’ll be all right.”

Martin plopped back down in his chair as soon as the soldiers left the room. Harrison and Lunde got up and stood in front of the lower tier across from Shepherd and Sergeant Atkins. Webb went to the top of the room and sat behind Nicole.

“Not a bad start for our first joint operation,” Martin said with mild humor also a weariness that had not been there during the briefing.

“Do any of you have any questions?” Lunde said.

Shepherd stood. “Sir.”

“Go ahead, Captain.”

“I realize this whole operation is still being developed, but…”

“No need to be diplomatic,” Martin said.

“I feel there wasn’t a whole lot said. From an operational standpoint, at least.”

Murray grunted. “God damn dog and pony show if you ask me.”

“We’re trying our best to get both sides working together,” Martin said. “Tonight was a step in that direction.”

Nicole put her hand gently on Martin’s shoulder. Webb tensed, and Nicole gave him a sly grin. “It was a nice gesture coming to sit with the losing team,” Nicole said to Martin, “but you’re sure not going to get my trust by putting us under guard and then having all of your people come armed.”

Martin nodded. “You’re right. I hope to change that soon.”

“And one more thing,” Nicole said, again spinning her chair to look up at Webb. “Not to say I don’t mind the company, but I’m wondering how long you’re going to be following us around. I’d love to take a shower one of these days. I don’t think we’re at the point where I feel comfortable having you in the stall with me. I may be easy, but—”

“I think we can save that for another time,” Lunde said. Nicole shrugged, spun her chair back around, and planted her elbows on the desk before resting her head in her hands and taking on a pouty expression.

“As Captain Shepherd pointed out, this briefing was vague on the details,” Lunde continued. “The reason for that is our lack of information regarding exactly what we’re sending you into. There really is no guarantee the Committee won’t order the launch of our nuclear assets the moment they have Alexandra secured at McMurdo. We cannot allow that to happen.”

“So all of us are coming along in case shit hits the fan and we need to kick ass down there?” Nicole said.

“The only reason you’re here is because Ms. Bedford set your release as the condition for her cooperation,” Webb said. “And since we have no intention of leaving you unattended, you’re coming with us.”

“You sure have been getting me into a lot of shit lately,” Nicole said to Alex. “Did I mention I get seasick?”

“What about my team, sir?” Shepherd said to Lunde. “What’s our purpose in all of this?”

“The NEA is in the process of deploying one of their special operations units to the Independence. Echo will work with them in a support role. You’ll provide any information they request on our tactics and systems.”

Wilson stood and said, “Sir, are you saying we’re supposed to advise them in case we end up fighting our own people down there?”

“That’s correct.”

“Shit,” Murray mumbled.

“What about me?” Alex asked Martin. “President Resnick said you might need my help.”

“Perhaps,” Martin said. “The Independence doesn’t have the firepower to sink an aircraft carrier. At best, we might hold out against an attack. Of course, we’re hoping none of that will be necessary.”

Harrison broke in, “Ms. Bedford, you reported earlier that your abilities are gone. Is that still the case?”

“As far as I know,” she said before glancing at Webb and then Martin. “Can I try?”

“Go ahead, Alexandra,” Martin said.

“Don’t expect it not to hurt,” Webb added.

Alex scanned the room for a target, for something small that would normally take only the slightest effort to manipulate. She settled on Sergeant Paul’s coffee mug, which sat on the desk at the front of the room. She stared at the object, doing her best to burn it into her memory, to ensure its afterimage would remain when she closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and then shut her eyes. The mug persisted as a grey outline against the darkness. But as she concentrated, as she struggled to bring the image into a full three-dimensional view, it faded away. She opened her eyes and shook her head. “Nothing.”

“I hope there’s a plan B,” Nicole said. “Because I’m sure as hell not taking down a carrier. I don’t think Grumpy back here is up to it, either.”

Alex wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or glad to be rid of her abilities. They were so much a part of her life. Everyone in the Directorate knew her as the general’s daughter, but even more so as the most visible of the Directorate’s ‘kinetics. Her abilities were the reason she had joined Echo Team, to train and fight alongside the seven men in the room who were now close as family. And your abilities are the reason four thousand people died in Kansas City. It’s better off they’re gone… isn’t it?

If her abilities were gone, she had no idea how to bring them back. If they returned, that was all beyond her control. For the moment, the voyage to Antarctica seemed more important. “You told me earlier I could communicate with that thing: the Anomaly. Is that why the Committee wants me down there?”

“That seems to be their motivation,” Martin said.

“And what about my dad?”

“I believe he has his own reasons for wanting you there with him.”

“What reasons?”

“I wish I knew, Alexandra,” Martin said but his voice and eyes betrayed him.

He’s holding something back. But why would he be hiding anything? Why now?

She turned to Lunde, “Gene, you’ve known my dad since the outbreaks. You’ve worked with him every day. You know he’d never launch a nuclear strike unless we were hit by one first. The Committee forced him to send those transmissions. You think so, too, don’t you?”

“I… hope that’s the case,” he said but did not meet her gaze.

Don’t you see it? They’re all against him. Even Uncle Gene. And what about you? Will you betray him if they ask you to? If he asks you to? She looked at Martin. He was leaning forward, staring at the desk with a troubled expression. This was the man who had been her father’s best friend until that friendship shattered for reasons she was still struggling to understand, reasons involving her, her mother, and the strange artifact beneath the Antarctic ice. But even if Martin now saw her father as his enemy, he had done everything his power to protect her since their first meeting in New York City.

Yet even with all of that, even though it was Martin’s blood running through her veins, even though she would not even have been born were it not for him, he was not her father, not the man who had loved her and taken care of her after the death of her mother and the end of the world. Henry Bedford was the one who for so many years sat at her bedside each night telling her stories of the bright world they would one day rescue from the darkness. He was her father, and she wasn’t willing to betray him, not for anything, not even if the transmissions and the threats were his words alone.

But you’re never going to get down there if you tell them that. Best to just sit back, smile, and play along. It’s the only way you’re going to see your dad.

“Sir, you said movement would begin as early as tomorrow afternoon,” Shepherd said. “Could you clarify?”

“A C-17 will depart Peterson at 1300,” Harrison said. “Your team, Ms. Bedford, Ms. Serrano, Colonel Webb, and General Martin and several additional NEA personnel will be onboard. You should arrive in Norfolk at approximately 1700. You’ll board the Independence as soon as you touch down. The ship should disembark no later than 2200.”

“And until then, sir?”

“You and your men will have the opportunity to gather personal belongings as well as speak to any of your family members. After that, you’ll all be taken to one of the NEA’s holding facilities at Peterson’s airfield until departure time tomorrow.”

“I see. Thank you, sir.”

“I know it’s late,” Lunde added, “and I’m sure your men would prefer to spend the night with their families, but…”

“We’re still considered security risks,” Shepherd said. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Does anyone have any other questions?” Harrison said. No one spoke up. He nodded. “Dismissed.”

---

Alex caught up to Shepherd outside the briefing room. To her surprise, at least twenty NEA soldiers packed the corridor, all of them with weapons and armor. Her body tensed. Had the briefing all been a farce to allow the NEA to take them into custody… or worse? But that idea was absurd.

“Just our escort,” Shepherd said in his calm, reassuring voice. She suspected he had seen the momentary fright in her eyes. “Kind of an honor, really. An entire infantry section just to keep an eye on the six of us.”

“Should have brought an entire platoon,” Murray said gruffly. The NEA soldiers eyed him, some with worried expressions, but Alex realized most of the men were looking at her.

The girl that wiped our Kansas City. The girl that killed their friends.

The soldiers split up into smaller groups of three to four men. Each group selected one of Echo’s members and escorted them away. She noted with amusement that five men fell in around Murray. She pictured a convoy of Humvees waiting in the main tunnel to transport Murray, Wilson, Atkins, Ziegler, and Jarden to their residences in Colorado Springs or Peterson. It was a kind gesture allowing the men to see their loved ones. The limited time at home and the armed escorts were less than ideal, but as Martin had put it, it was a step in the right direction.

Shepherd was the last to go. Alex came up to him and looked at the three remaining soldiers. “Can we have a minute?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The men retreated a few steps but kept a close watch.

“Are you having them take you to the lodge?”

Shepherd nodded. “Might as well shove a few uniforms in my duffel and pull out the cold-weather gear.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Antarctica. That’s one place I never thought I’d visit. I wonder what the climate’s like this time of year.”

She nodded. It would be cold. She had experienced that cold in her dream – or vision – after Webb had shot her and she had passed out in the main tunnel. She tried to shake both away: the memories of the frigid air and the taste of iron filling her mouth and blocking her airway. Shepherd touched her shoulder as if to steady her. “You okay?”

She put her hand over Shepherd’s. “I’m fine. I could come see you later tonight in the hangar.” In a quieter, more hesitant voice, she added. “Maybe I could stay.”

“I can’t say I would mind the company. But… I’m sure the NEA frowns on cohabitation after hours, you know?” He grinned but it faded quickly as he saw Alex’s look of disappointment. “Hey, just get some shut-eye tonight. This’ll be the last time for a while you have a chance to sleep in a comfortable bed. It’s going to be cramped on that boat.”

“Think they have a different cohabitation policy?”

Shepherd’s grin returned. “I’m sure we can work something out.”

“You’re sure… about tonight?”

“I am. Get some rest. You look like you could use it.”

“That bad?” she said with a half-smile.

He touched the side of her face and combed back her hair. His calloused fingertips against her skin made her warm. She knew if they were alone, she would wrap her arms around his shoulders, bring her lips to his mouth, and press her body against him – and more, if he would allow it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Make sure you’re not late.”

“Okay.” It was all she could manage to say. Shepherd turned to the guards, and the three men began to close in around him. They started away but hesitated when she said, “Ryan…?”

He looked back. “What is it?”

She wanted him to stay. There was something more beyond just physical desire – as strong as it was. Shepherd made her feel safe. His embrace was like the warm blankets of her bed, but much more intimate, much more secure. She remembered him holding her as she cried into his shoulder in Peterson’s medical center two weeks earlier. She thought back to the hangar, how he had held her and offered the words of assurance: Everything’s going to be all right.

I don’t want to be alone. Not tonight.

She considered returning to Martin and demanding that he let Shepherd remain in the mountain. It would be another of her conditions for cooperation. And it would work, too. Except she also realized how childish it would be with so much on the line. She shook her head. “Nothing. Good night.”

She watched him until he and the soldiers disappeared around a corner. To her surprise, another hand came down on her shoulder. “You are hopeless,” Nicole said. “You know that?”

Webb stood behind Nicole. Alex blushed. She hoped they hadn’t been there long, that they had missed most of her conversation with Shepherd. However, Nicole’s grin told her all she needed to know.

“You really are hot for him, aren’t you?” Nicole teased. “But I swear, I could put you two in the same bed and you’d find a way to get out of it.”

Alex’s blush deepened. She might have discussed the topic with Nicole in private but not with Webb a few feet away. “Don’t you have something better to be doing?”

Nicole’s grin widened. “Nope, not really. Guess what?” Nicole paused and looked at her expectantly.

“What?” Alex asked.

“I… let’s say… negotiated my own terms with the NEA. I told Martin that Mr. Grumpy could keep following me around twenty-four seven if he really wanted to, but I’d probably get pretty annoyed after a few days and figure out a way to take him out. And I could, too. So I promised I’d stay with you instead and keep you out of trouble. Martin said as long as I follow you around, he’d put his signature to it. Some teacher’s pet you are.”

Webb’s expression of annoyance almost made Alex chuckle. “Understand this, Ms. Bedford, you’re going to take responsibility for her,” Webb said. “If she hurts anyone, if she kills them, that blood is going to be on your hands. And don’t think I’ll be far away.”

“That wouldn’t work on me, you know,” Nicole said. “Guilt. Good thing Bedford here is such an upstanding person.”

“Nicki, promise me you won’t hurt anyone,” Alex said.

Nicole groaned. “Yes. I promise. Cross my heart, hope to die. Can we go have some girl time now? It’s been way too long. You can tell me all about Captain Shepherd and—”

“Okay,” Alex interrupted.

“We’re leaving for Peterson at 0900,” Webb said. “I expect both of you at the blast doors by 0845. Do not try to leave this facility, and do not leave your quarters after midnight. We’ve instituted a curfew. There will be guards posted, and I will know if you try anything. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Alex said.

Webb held her gaze for a long moment and then returned to the briefing room. The door shut behind him.

Nicole took Alex’s hand and began to drag her down the corridor. Nicole was talking quickly. She was obviously excited to spend the night, but Alex failed to catch most of her friend’s words. Her thoughts focused on Martin. His trust was surprising and touching. He was so confident she would do the right thing – that she would keep Nicole under control. He trusted her even after Kansas City, even after the attack on Fort Riley.

Another step in the right direction? Do you know anyone else who would take that risk? To put Nicole, your friend the trained killer, into your custody?

She wondered if he had done it knowing how she felt in the wake of the past day’s events, how she didn’t want to be alone, how she needed someone to talk to, someone she could trust – a friend. And as Nicole continued to pull her down the hall, Alex wondered, How could that man have been our greatest enemy for so long? How could he and Dad have ever stopped being friends? Unless it’s true… unless everything Martin told you is true.

She shook her head and followed Nicole.

---

They stood on Peterson Air Force Base’s flight line twelve hours later. Everyone except Alex was already onboard the NEA’s C-17 Globemaster. She waited near the convoy that had brought her and Nicole from the mountain. Webb watched her from the bottom of the C-17’s ramp. She tried to look past him, toward Cheyenne Mountain and the Front Range but her gaze constantly returned to Webb’s black and empty membrane. She was thankful when the pilot appeared and spoke to Webb. He half turned away but she suspected several of his wormlike eyes were still watching her. The two talked for a moment before the pilot returned to the cockpit. Alex had been amused to find the pilot and co-pilot were the same men who had flown them from Washington to Colorado.

Not the same airplane, though, she thought and wondered if the wreckage remained on the small runway north of Colorado Springs.

“Ready?” Lunde stood at her side. Harrison was there, too, with his arms crossed and his eyes concealed behind tinted sunglasses.

Alex nodded but made no move toward the aircraft. “Gene? You remember when we were here last?”

“I do.”

“You said you didn’t know why my dad picked you to be deputy commander.” She waited, expecting him to reply but he kept silent. “Did you… like working for my dad?”

Lunde frowned and looked away, which gave her all the answer she needed.

The C-17’s engines started with a sputter and then a roar as its four bulbous turbofans began to spin.

“You should get going, Ms. Bedford!” Harrison said.

She ignored him and continued to watch Lunde. He appeared uncomfortable when he finally spoke, as if wishing he had stayed at Cheyenne Mountain. His expression made her feel guilty. He had come to see her off, to wish her luck, and now she was asking him questions that were perhaps better left unanswered. “There were things your father and I didn’t see… eye-to-eye on.”

“Like what?”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

She put her hand on his sleeve. “Please.”

Lunde looked at her hand for a long moment. She thought he would tell her no, that he would instead simply say goodbye and depart back to the mountain. Instead, he spoke just loud enough for her to hear over the growl of the C-17’s engines. “I thought about resigning when your father decided to set up the first labor camp outside Denver. I had my letter typed up. I even told him I was willing to go quietly and that we could call it a retirement. People would have believed it, and Alan could have stepped in without a problem. He convinced me to stay on. He said it would all be worth it in the end. He said those people were better off under our care. I suppose I wanted to believe him, and… I did.”

He paused and looked toward the flagpole near the edge of the field. The rattlesnake flag of the NEA had replaced the Directorate’s banner. “No institution is perfect. The United States wasn’t, and neither is the Directorate. But I was always proud serving as an officer in the Air Force. They tell you to choose the hard right over the easy wrong, but they don’t explain how very difficult that is to do especially when so many others are already on the path you want to avoid.”

“You’re still a good person.”

Lunde did not meet her eyes. “I wonder if those men and women who died under our so-called protection would agree.” He sighed. “Good luck, Alexandra. Remember what I said.”

“I will,” she said softly.

They embraced and then broke away. She walked across the tarmac, up the ramp past Webb, and boarded the C-17. The aircraft ascended into the grey Colorado skies a few minutes later.