Chapter 40 Priority One
Chapter forty
Priority One
Dominion, the next morning
Jace Irons trailed two steps behind his father toward Command Hall for the morning situation meeting.
Luther glanced at a gilded mirror mounted between a founder’s portrait and a patriotic bronze wall hanging, brushing his perfect pompadour for good measure.
When had he become so vain? After weeks in daily contact with Luther—privy to things he said and did behind the curtain—Jace had begun counting the ways President Irons differed from the father he remembered.
His mother seemed sad and constantly on edge.
His father was practically a stranger. Still, he’d never shown as much pride and confidence in Jace. Not ever.
Several top advisors stood outside the windowless meeting room, talking in hushed tones. A skinny man Jace hadn’t met before approached with his hat in his hands, chin lowered. He looked like a lost scarecrow with a long nose and slicked-back, thinning black hair.
“Mr. President,” he said, braving a smile.
“Pickett.” Irons halted to acknowledge him.
“Jace, this is Franklin Pickett, the resource procurement guy who smartened up and left Verdancia behind.” He looked at Pickett the way a hungry cat eyed a mouse.
“You could have shared with us how stubborn your former countrymen are. I thought you were heading to Colorado, or some such place out west.”
“Yes, sir,” Pickett said. “My train leaves in about an hour. I just wanted to stop by before I left to thank you one last time and wish you the best. You kept your word and gave me the promised reward. Feel free to look me up in Pueblo if you need information again.”
Luther raised his chin, satisfaction and calculation on his face. “Count on it.”
“Mr. President, sir!”
A young man in an officer’s uniform rushed forward, waving, with two enlisted men in his wake. Two guards with batons at the ready stepped between them and the president.
“Christ, what now?” Luther muttered so only Jace could hear. “Yesterday, it was robots. Robots? Can you believe it?”
“Incredible, but I doubt General Roundtree would make up such a thing,” Jace said.
His dad grimaced and rolled his eyes. Turning to the interrupting soldiers, he blinked, his mouth falling slack. “Hey, aren’t you Maddox’s kid?”
Jace’s eyes widened, and, for a moment, he feared the lieutenant had come for revenge.
“Yes, sir,” Crane confirmed with a sense of urgency. He was covered in dirt and grime, as were the two others. Now Jace also recognized him. “Colt sent me. We drove all night to warn you about a gigantic invasion force that crossed our southern border yesterday.”
Luther laughed, gesturing to Jace. “Did you hear that? Your brother is playing a prank on us.”
“No, Mr. President,” said the older, burly sergeant, his face bristling with stubble.
“Captain Irons and I saw them. I can give you details, like their symbol—an ochre banner with a black step-pyramid and a green sun. They have balloons and these other flying machines that Captain Irons called airships. They’re bringing vehicles, guns, artillery, and more soldiers than ants at a picnic. ”
“Sounds like the Anáhuac Federation,” said Pickett.
All eyes turned to the turncoat. The council members stopped their discussion and moved closer, anxiety etched in their expressions. Jace could have heard a fly land.
“But I heard they suffered a plague and were wiped out,” Luther responded. “And before that, the constant infighting and assassinations. They’re supposed to be primitive and disorganized.”
Pickett nodded. “They did suffer a bout of plague about fifteen years ago, but I ran into some pirate types who travel all down the coast. They said the Anáhuac have a new charismatic leader the people rally behind. Nothing this soldier has reported surprises me.”
Jace watched his father pale, his bottom lip trembling. “Crane, you other two, everybody, into the Command Room. Tell us everything.”
They filed in. Vice President Reagan barely slipped in before Colonel Vexler locked the door, leaving Pickett and the attendants in the hallway. The department heads clamored into their seats, eyes alert, pulses pounding.
Jace felt lost, completely out of his element. In his distress, he made a rare move and spoke. “Why didn’t Colt bring us the news?”
“He had to remain in command at his post,” Lieutenant Crane answered.
The awareness hit Jace like a hammer. If this report were correct, his big brother could already be dead.
That tiny outpost couldn’t stand before a huge invasion force.
He was aware of men saying things like “hundreds of thousands” and “as far as we could see,” while memories of Colt raced through his mind.
Jace realized that, although he’d spent his life jealous of his brother, he’d simultaneously admired him, wishing he could be like the golden boy.
Believing he couldn’t, he’d rebelled with partying and a lack of restraint.
Since being called to his father’s side, Jace had put away wild living to step into Colt’s shoes.
Even now, he found them far too big for him.
“Well, we have to do something!” Luther exclaimed. “We have to do it now, before they reach Dominion.”
“Let me send scouts in balloons and on motorcycles to confirm the reports,” Vexler proposed. “After all, this is Crane’s son bringing us this news. It must be verified so we don’t act rashly.”
“And how long will that take?” Dalia Ren asked.
“A day or two,” Vexler confirmed.
“Our entire army is in Verdancia,” Beatrice Graves reminded the council. “It will take them days to return after they receive their orders. We can’t wait.”
“And if this report is a gross exaggeration?” Vexler fisted his hands on the table and crushed a matchstick between his teeth.
“Airships,” Dr. Venz mumbled, staring at a bare spot on the wall. “Lost genius. Robots. The Oligarchy did it. They should be mine.”
“What is this?” Luther thundered. Fear Jace had never seen on his father’s face gripped every feature. “We invade one country—a necessity to feed our population—and suddenly we’re facing three enemies at once?”
“We still don’t know why Appalachia got involved in the Battle of Stonevale,” Dalia said. “General Roundtree stated clearly that they attacked both armies.”
“None of that matters if these Anáhuac invaders capture my capital,” Luther said, his voice rising. “Reverend Quell, what should we do?” He turned to the religious leader in near panic.
“This is indeed an unforeseen and disturbing development.” Quell steepled his fingers, remaining calm as others’ voices rose.
“The most pragmatic approach is to move forward with both proposals at once. The colonel is correct that we require more intelligence gathering about the new threat. Our government received no declaration of war, no warning whatsoever this army was driving north. But it is also a prudent move to recall our troops at once so the army can arrive before the infidel invaders. I’ve heard they worship the sun.
Idolaters. Pagans. Worse than Verdancian heretics or Appalachian cultists.
Do they still practice human sacrifices?
Surely, God is on our side, but we still need the military for Him to use in our defense. ”
“Maddox Crane.” The name spilled from Luther’s mouth, dripping with regret. “We need Maddox Crane. Beatrice, Bram, why did you convince me to make an example of him? We should have just locked him up. Oh, God, help us!”
Elbows on the table, Luther buried his face in his hands and sobbed.
“I’ll write up the retreat orders,” Vice President Reagan offered. “They will reflect the urgency of our situation, and I’ll send redundant pigeons in case one doesn’t make it.”
“And I’ll send scouts south immediately,” Vexler vowed. Even he looked nervous now.
Jace’s father raised his gaze, rubbing away tears. “Hundreds of thousands? Dalia, how many troops have we lost in Verdancia?”
“The casualty numbers we’ve received are only estimates,” she said and bit her lip. She twisted a ring around her finger. “Twenty-five … thirty thousand?”
Luther gaped. Blinked. Wiped a hand across his mouth. “That’s because Queen Frost had allies. She went out and got the AlgonCree to fight on her side. We need allies. How do we get allies?”
“Considering we’ve alienated everyone except Pacifica—and they’re a confederation, each state acting as they will—I don’t see how it can be done,” Reagan said with remorse.
Luther’s eyes lit, his voice suddenly reinvigorated.
“We’ll call for an immediate summit meeting.
We can hold it in a neutral location, allow the queen, the chief, and the prime minister to bring security details.
Offer to pay for their travel. I’ll wine and dine them, convince them to join us in facing the new threat. ”
Jace couldn’t believe his ears. Did his father believe any of them would agree to this? Why would they? Then again, Luther Irons could be charming and persuasive. It wouldn’t hurt to try.
“Invite the Maritime Council chairman from Pacifica, someone Redfern,” Luther continued. “Where’s their capital?”
“It moves around, so no member state is shown favor,” Minister Graves replied. “I believe the Redfern administration operates from Bear River Junction, Utah.”
Luther frowned. Jace didn’t know where exactly that was—only that it was far away.
“Send them a message as well,” he declared and pounded a fist on the table.
“We need allies. Promise them anything, only get them to meet with me. Beatrice, I must address the nation. Set it up. And send word to all towns and oil fields in the south to evacuate. Queen Frost saved a lot of her citizens by getting them out of the smaller towns before our army arrived. Vexler, why are you still here? Get my intel!” The colonel nodded and vacated his seat.
“I’ll draft and send all the letters at once.” The vice president rose and bowed to Luther.
“I will pray,” Quell said, “and then help you compose your speech.”
“And get my army back here at once!” Luther shot out of his chair so fast he almost toppled over.
Jace reached out a hand to steady him, but his father shook it off.
“I’m fine,” he growled. “This has to be the darkest day in the Republic’s history.
Core Cult robots. Sun-worshiping barbarians. Why is everyone out to get me?”
The council members dispersed to see to their tasks, each appearing more worried than the one beside them. Only Jace and the three soldiers from Fort Desperado remained at the table.
“Mr. President,” said Lieutenant Crane. “What about Captain Irons and the Fort Desperado garrison? They’re down there all by themselves. They don’t even have motor vehicles. Colt sent us to the mercury mines with a requisition order so we could bring the report with haste.”
Luther scratched his head, rolled a finger in his ear, and dropped his hand to the table.
“Colt’s resourceful. He’ll think of something.
” He turned a despairing look to Jace and lifted his palms. “Who am I gonna send? Fort Resolute has a skeleton crew, and everyone else is at the front. That’s why I called for their immediate withdrawal. Colt is smart. He’ll handle it.”
Crane lowered his gaze. The older sergeant appeared to be fuming mad, and the young private looked terrified. “Yes, sir. He’ll think of something.” Crane stood and motioned for his comrades to follow. “Permission to report to Fort Resolute for a debriefing with the commander?”
“Go ahead,” Luther said, waving a hand without looking at them.
Crane nodded to Jace. “Jace, Colt sends his love to his family.”
Jace swallowed a lump in his throat and returned the nod. The soldiers walked out, leaving father and son alone together. There was so much Jace wanted to say but didn’t dare. His dad’s shoulders slumped, his eyes were red, and he looked … defeated.
“Remember that time we went on that hunting trip with Maddox and his boy—just the five of us?” Luther stared ahead, his eyes unfocused.
“Yeah.”
“He knew just where to find the pronghorn, how to approach undetected.” A faint smile crossed Luther’s lips, and his eyes flashed with delight. “We came home with a real haul, ate hearty all winter—got coats made from those hides.”
“I remember.” Marcus and Jace hadn’t been allowed to shoot the hunting rifles. Too little, the dads said.
“I messed up, Jace.” The light faded from Luther’s face. “God is punishing me. I let my temper get the better of me, made a rash judgment, and now?” He shook his head.
“We all make mistakes,” Jace said. “It’s what we do next that counts.”
Luther let out a dry laugh. “Sounds like what Colt would say.”
Jace felt as if an anchor hung around his neck. He wished he could take back every mean thing he’d said and done to his brother.