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The doors to the airship opened on their own, which unnerved Zeb right away. There was a walkway across to the Tower itself and it was illuminated by bright red and blue lights. There was no guard rail to hang onto and as the airship engine cycled down, Zeb began to feel the Tower itself moving in the wind. How high was this place? The realization dawned that this was probably the first test- let’s see if the President of the United States will walk across a ludicrously high platform to go to a meeting. Oh, har-de-har-de-har… that’s right, have a good laugh at his expense.
Zeb took a deep breath and unbuckled his seatbelt. He grabbed both edges of the door and pulled himself upright, hanging onto the sides of the door as he did so. Carefully, assuming that he was being watched, he hazarded a glance over the edge of the landing platform. All he could see was blackness.- and far, far below, there were lights twinkling faintly.
“Fuck me, how high is this tower?” Zeb hated heights. And then, the realization dawned that this was still part of the test. There were ways of finding out what he feared most. And somewhere, in some file or some interview or some other damn thing, there would be something that would tell them that Zeb hated heights.
He set his shoulders and pulled himself together. One more deep breath and he let go of the transport reached up and straightened his tie and then began to walk across the platform to the Tower. The wind was strong, stronger than he expected. He kept going until he reached the other side. Ahead of him, the doors to the Tower opened and without breaking stride, he walked inside.
The doors closed behind him and then he heard a metallic screech and he turned to see railings emerging from the platform. Zeb sighed and shook his head. “Figures.”
In response, a soft, velvet chuckle answered him and he turned once more to see Virginia Dare, dressed head to toe in black regarding him with an amused gaze. “Forgive our little entertainment, Mr. President.”
“You figured out I was afraid of heights?”
“Wasn’t that hard to figure out,” she replied. “Come with me and step into my parlor,” she bowed and gesticulated for him to follow her. Zeb did so and she led him through another set of doors into a wide, circular room beyond.
The doors opened at the top of the room and Virginia Dare led him down a set of stairs that descended around the edge of the room to an elegant wooden desk that was set in front of a long bank of windows that stretched around the other half of the room. The center of the room was illuminated by a single lamp, floating beneath a dome with two huge golden eagles on it. Beneath the lamp was a large marble floor where a huge map of North America glimmered in the light.
“Welcome to the Tower of the Eagles, Mr. President,” she said as she reached the desk. “I’d offer you a chair, but I don’t actually keep any in this room.”
“You don’t believe in chairs?” Zeb said.
She shook her head as she walked around the desk (to where the chair normally would be) and squatted down momentarily. She opened a desk drawer and produced a bottle and two glasses. “But, lucky for you, I believe in bourbon.”
She placed the two glasses on the desk and, uncorking the bottle, poured a measure into each of them. She placed the bottle down on the desk and picked up both glasses, holding one out to Zeb. He hesitated just for an instant before taking it, mentally shrugging to himself. It would be impolite to refuse, right? Then: Shit. What if this is another test?
“Cheers, Mr. President,” she said. And they clinked glasses together before lapsing into silence. Virginia Dare walked back around the desk and headed down to the middle of the room where the map was located. Zeb followed her, trying to figure out just what kind of game his Spymaster was playing. Virginia Dare looked to be in advanced middle age with long blonde hair that was flecked with grey. Although dressed head to toe in black, her clothes were business-like but not form-fitting either. She reached the map and turned again, fixing him with a penetrating gaze with her grey eyes.
“So, here we are, Mr. President,” she said.
“Yes,” Zeb replied. “My ceremonial visit to the Tower of the Eagles.”
She chuckled again in that soft, velvety way of hers again. “And by ceremonial, you mean utterly helpless, pointless, and a waste of your time?”
Zeb took a sip of bourbon and decided not to answer her unspoken question. She chuckled again. “How long do you think this Tower has been here, Mr. President?”
“I don’t know,” Zeb admitted. “Centuries probably.”
“Nearly seven hundred years,” Dare said. “It’s one of the only buildings to survive from before The Great Silence. Technology back then was accelerating faster and faster and the possibilities that lay before us seemed to be limitless. But you know what happened then.”
“The center did not hold and things fell apart,” Zeb said, raising his glass of bourbon in salute.
“Exactly,” Dare replied. “And we led the way back and the North American Union came into being.”
“But nothing lasts forever,” Zeb said. “So here we are.”
“Yes,” Dare replied. “Here we are.” Neither of them said anything for a moment and Zeb got the distinct feeling he was being weighed and measured by the woman looking at him with those steel-grey eyes of hers. He tried not to shift uncomfortably and took another sip of his bourbon to cover the lengthening silence between them until finally Dare spoke again.
“How much do you know?”
Zeb grimaced and took a long sip of bourbon. He walked to the center of the room staring down at the marble map of North America. Ocampo’s words echoed in his head: This meeting is critical to the direction of your presidency. If you impress Virginia Dare… He glanced up and met her gaze directly for a moment before making a decision. If she was going to trust him, he may as well be honest with the woman.
“Honestly,” he said. “Not a damn thing. I’m President because the opposition parties wanted to make an end run around the Speaker. Everyone assumed they would try, but no one expected them to actually succeed. I’m… “ he snorted. “The paperweights in the Oval Office probably know more than I do.”
Virginia smiled. “I’ve served more Presidents than I can count, Mr. President,” she said. “I don’t think any of them, man, woman, or person have ever been as brutally honest as you were just then.”
“Well, I’ve got that goin’ for me, at least,” Zeb said. He stepped over to the center of the map of North America on the marble floor and straightened to attention. “You have my undivided attention, ma’am.”
“Good,” she said. She walked over to join him in the center of the room. “I like your style, Mr. President. I think we’re going to get along just fine.”
“Glad to hear it,” Zeb replied.
“What I’m about to tell you might sound crazy,” Dare said. “I’ve spent the best part of two years trying to get some solid information about it and just as I was getting close, my contact was assassinated.”
“Go on,” said Zeb.
“About five years ago now, we started hearing some noise about a political shake-up out west,” Dare began. “Some General had come down out of the mountains in Montana or Idaho- you know, one of those places where the rule of law runs a little thinner than it should and killed a few of the Cascadian land barons that hold most of that land.”
“On the face of it- no big deal. Your average Cascadian land baron is corrupt as hell, they’re all self-styled Colonels ruling swathes of land bigger than most states we have. What turned into a big deal was when this General killed six of them and then started a full-scale invasion of Cascadia.”
“Cascadia fell and she pushed into California.”
“She?”
“All reports indicate she identifies as a female,” Dare replied.
Zeb raised one eyebrow in mild surprise before shaking his head ruefully. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised by that, should I? We’re kind of the backward ones these days when it comes to that stuff.”
“I am the highest-ranking woman in your cabinet,” Dare pointed out. “Not that the cabinet is anything but symbolic these days.”
“It’s a point well taken though,” Zeb replied. “But,” he raised his glass of bourbon. “We’re getting off track. Please continue.”
“This General pushed into California until Jacinta Fremont put some steel back into their spines and stopped her cold in the San Gabriel Mountains just north of Los Angeles,” Virginia stepped over to Deseret. “She tried to take the Mormons, but had to settle or bottling them up in the Wasatch Mountains instead.” Another two steps, up to Canada. “The White Fox is keeping her busy in Edmonton.” Three quick steps down to Arizona.”She hasn’t touched the Free State of Flagstaff.” One quick step up to The Plains League. “The Plains League straight up joined her. Didn’t even try to fight.” One more step up to the Midwest Alliance. “And she just finished rolling over the Midwest Alliance.”
Zeb could feel the nausea rising in his stomach. “So you think… this General is-” He couldn’t finish the question. He didn’t want to finish the question. Shopping malls and fruit festivals were bad enough- it was inconvenient and it was going to put a major crimp in his social life, but it was just annoying. This was… this was real. This was a potential national security threat only-
“Yes,” Virginia Dare said. “I do.”
Zeb backed up a couple of steps and sat down somewhat unsteadily on the steps that led down to the center of the room. He drained the last of the bourbon, feeling the warmth slide down his throat and begin to burn.
“She might not go for us, you know,” Zeb said. “The Confederacy is the bigger prize. So is the Free State of Jones and the Republic of Texas. Hell, the Oceanic Republics are-”
“Mr. President,” Virginia said. “You and I both know that’s not true.”
Zeb sighed. “I want it to be true.”
“What you want to be true and what actually is true are two different things,” Virginia said. “The Caliphate is about to go through a bloody succession battle and many of those have resulted in Civil Wars. The Objectivists and their governing structure make mounting an effective defense questionable at best. The Anarchists-”
“Are nothing and we’re weak.”
“The Speaker thinks the wall will protect us,” Virginia said.
Zeb snorted in derision. “It might, but I doubt it. And even if it does, how long will it protect us?”
Virginia said nothing and let the silence sit between them for a moment. Zeb pushed himself back up and remembering the data stick Ocampo had given him, reached into his pocket and held it out to Virginia. “I don’t suppose you’d be able to break the encryption on that, could you?”
“What is it?” Virginia said.
“A data stick President Mitchell left me,” Zeb replied. “Ocampo couldn’t break into it. Tried every encryption key he could think of. Thought you’d have something more powerful.”
“We probably do,” Virginia said, taking the data stick from him. “Excuse me a moment, Mr. President.” She walked across to the far side of the room and disappeared through a doorway. Zeb stared down at the map. It’s not too late, a little voice in the back of his head whispered. You could resign. Run away. Head south to the islands and the Oceanic Republics. Live on a beach. The beaches are nice. As soon as the thought entered his head, he knew it would never happen. He wouldn’t run. There had been a President who had resigned after four days. What was their name? Emerson! That was it. Emerson Kasey. At the height of the Great Floods and the secessionist crisis, they had just written a brief resignation letter, got in Marine One, and flown away. No one ever found out where they went, actually.
He wouldn’t run away though. He walked up the stairs and over to the windows that looked out into the immense blackness of the night around them. Far below and far away he could see those tiny lights. Would anyone fight for them? The Speaker wouldn’t. Congress wouldn’t. Zeb knew how the game was played. Governing that mattered didn’t happen in Washington D.C. anymore. It was all a game- people manipulating their way to more power or keeping whatever power they could. The regular people depended on the states, but the states needed money from Congress to do anything big and the cupboard was bare. Had been for decades now.
“I have to try,” Zeb said aloud to the window. “I’ll probably fail.” No, you will fail. The little voice in the back of his head whispered again. If she’s right about all of this, nothing is going to stop this General. Only slow her down. “I have to try.”
“Mr. President?” He turned as Virginia came back into the room, carrying the data stick with her and shaking her head in puzzlement.
“No luck?” He asked.
“No,” Virginia replied. “Which is unusual for us,” she admitted. Zeb walked back down the steps to meet her in the center of the map of North America. She handed him the data stick and a piece of paper. “It’s an older military encryption,” she said. “One that we no longer have in our system, but if you send someone to those coordinates, you’ll find a man who should be able to help you out with that.”
“Thank you,” Zeb said.
“My pleasure, Mr. President,” replied Virginia. She hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Did you have a moment to think about your options?”
Zeb sighed. “I did.”
“And?”
He began to pace the length of North America. “Well,” he began. “Assuming you’re right about all of this, I’m going to need to prove that it’s true and somehow persuade the Speaker to fix our infrastructure, modernize the military, repair the forts along the frontier, and mobilize and train the greatest fighting force this country has assembled in centuries- and that’s just to give us a fighting chance in all of this.”
“To top it all off,” he continued, “the Speaker hates me and has the imagination of a pistachio and won’t be convinced of a potential existential threat to our survival until it’s knocking on the doors to the House Chamber. So he’s not going to believe any of this and he’s going to use my trying to push this idea as an excuse to get rid of me.” Zeb flung his arms wide with feigned enthusiasm. “But wait- there’s more! Our infrastructure is crumbling. Our electrical grid is decades past needing a mass overhaul that we can’t possibly afford. In the shattered balkanized remnants of North America, we’re the crazy hoarder Aunt who lives in a house full of dusty, moldy shit with fifty cats and stacks of books and magazines that could topple over and kill us at any minute. We’re in no state to take on anyone, but we’re also not important enough for anyone to give a shit. Until right now.” He put his arms down and set his shoulders. “In short, Ms. Dare, we need a miracle. Can you get me one of those?”
“I’ve pulled stranger rabbits out of my hat before, Mr. President,” Virginia replied.
“Good,” Zeb said. “Because I hate shopping malls and can’t stand the thought of spending my summer eating fried food and fruit pies all over New England.”
Virginia Dare smiled. “So what’s the play, Mr. President?”
“I hate poker,” Zeb said. “But we’ve got to go all in on a bad hand. If she’s going to take us down, she’s going to have to earn it. You leave the Speaker and the politics of all this to me, But I need two things from you.”
“Which are?”
“I need stone-cold proof that you’re right about this General and if you are, I need you to unleash your spies, assassins- whatever you need to slow her down. I need all the time you can give me.”
“I can give you six months, at most.”
“In six months, we’ll either be the toughest nut this General has ever had to crack or I’ll be tending bar on a beach somewhere far, far away from here.”
“Who knows,” Virginia said. “We may not crack at all.”
Zeb smiled, grimly. “So you’re saying there’s a chance I’ll get out of this alive?”
“Not much of a chance,” she replied. “But a chance.”
“Good,” said Zeb. “If I’m going to die, I don’t want it to be for a helpless cause.” He paused. “Do what you have to do.”
“With pleasure, Mr. President,” she replied. “In fact, I’ll do you one better.”
“Oh?”
“I’ll go to Indianapolis myself.”