

Solar Minimum  
In Spem de Mundo

Copyright © 2013 Greg T Meyers

Smashwords Edition
For Shelley,

my Veronica. Thank you for saving me.

# Contents

_Acknowledgements_

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

_Book Club Discussion_

_About the Author_

_Character Glossary_

# Acknowledgements

Special thanks to all those who have gone before and left such great anecdotes of living both in the positive and the negative. The rich history of all of our ancestors who toiled through centuries of hardship, disease, war and evil. Their examples of piety and honor are perhaps never more needed for us to remember than today. May we be as courageous and selfless as they in the next hundred years.

Jacob Abbott for his volumes on English and European history that have greatly added to the historical accuracy and color of my work. I am especially grateful for his moral judgment and commentary on the histories he wrote, an asset that is painfully missing from many historical works.

Special thanks to Kim Mercer and her hours of pouring over this manuscript and who provided valuable direction when my storytelling was not completely converted from my imagination to paper.

Stanley and Diane Blackett for their support and excitement, love of my story and the characters I created.

My wife Shelley, the love of my life who was my inspiration for Veronica—sweet, kind, colorfully audacious and dangerously beautiful. I am a lucky man.

For England and letting me live with her for a time and her rich history of survival and moral right—peppered with terribleness. 

# Chapter 1

"The chair recognizes the _distinguished_ Senator from WY-omin'. Senator, you have 15 minutes."

The Speaker's curt and defamatory demeanor was nothing new to Senator Leroy Guiscard, the most senior of all congressmen in the year 2040. They had locked horns many times on various issues and it was no secret that Senator Guiscard or Gus as his friends knew him didn't have any affection for the Speaker either. In this modern day and age, politeness of speech was a rarity anyway and the social graces of only 10 years ago were painfully missing from society especially for those who had been taught better manners. Walking slowly to the lectern, Gus took his reading glasses out of his suit pocket and clumsily fitted them to his aged face and tucked his medium-length grey hair behind his ears. Reaching the platform, he shuffled his notes, placing a full page of bulleted points on top, cleared his throat and looked over the rim of his glasses onto the ill-attended 126th Congress of the United States.

Gus's professional demeanor and his respect for his office would not allow him to be anything but professional and respectful. As the most senior congressman, he also felt a responsibility to set an example for the juvenile opportunists that seemed to flock to congress these days.

"Thank you Mr. Speaker. Thank you my distinguished colleagues." He looked at the first bullet point on his notes and paused. The last 26 months of his life had been spent creating this list which was the result of countless meetings usually running into the wee hours of the morning, but what he wanted to say this late afternoon had little to do with the notes in front of him. He now only hoped that his speech would not be received as the insipid ramblings of a tired, old man.

Gus was seen as a fossil in the Senate, respected by most but often-times viewed as eccentric but well-meaning. The issues he championed seemed unimportant and less worthy of the Senate's time especially on this day. His allotted time had been squeezed in at the end of a very long and intense day of deliberation and many senators had already left the building by the time Gus was given the floor.

Western Europe was on the brink of war with most of the Middle Eastern countries, which for the first time in history were united. The United States was trying to remain neutral as long as possible and the thought of policing the world was a very unpopular notion to the public in 2040. However, a small handful of senators felt a military engagement was probably unavoidable. Therefore, Gus's report on a freshman senator's campaign financing was anything but important at this urgent hour and Gus would have agreed had the investigation not turned up matters of both national security and global well-being.

Just over two years ago at his insistence, the Senate had reluctantly authorized the formation of a committee to investigate the questionable campaign donations of a fellow senator named Abdul Faris. The Senate's reluctance to investigate senator Faris was mostly due to the fact that he was a minority. In 2040, minority status meant special favors and a blind eye, no matter what level of government or position in the private sector the minority held. The scuttlebutt was that Abdul had accepted money from a Turkish-based world organization called Toprak Esir Inc., believed to be the financial might and momentum behind the financial crash and subsequent political takeover of Praia, a small and rather insignificant country located in the Cape Verde islands off the western coast of Africa. Insignificant that is, to the majority of the world and the seemingly peaceful takeover went unnoticed by most Americans and other first-world citizens. Since the golden age of sail, Africa had always been a cesspool of marauding warlords, nation rise and fall, enslavement and genocide. By the year 2040, the United Nations and the world at large had progressively closed an eye at the comings and goings of African nations and the dangerous minefield of attempting to unravel the revolving doors of the ruling powers.

The Faris investigation was largely ignored by an uninterested public and an even less interested media. However, what started out as a somewhat benign public inquiry had turned into a crisis of global implications. Gus became interested in senator Faris after he overheard him speaking in Turkish with a Capital Building security guard that didn't appear to be Middle Eastern, but spoke fluent Turkish. He might not have thought it too out of place had they not both stopped speaking as he approached from the stairwell. Gus was far from fluent in Turkish but as a child he had a Turkish house maid who was eager to teach him her language. Gus never mastered the tongue to any degree but he could recognize the language well enough, and pick out a few words.

As Gus came up the stairwell that evening he heard the name Toprak and the words "asker yerleştirme" exchanged several times in an urgent conversation between the two men. At the time he wasn't sure if he heard the word "asker" or "askeri" but it was of little importance since one meant "troops" and the other "military." The other word he knew he heard for certain was "placement." Abdul was not on any military committee and even if he was, what business did he have discussing military movements with this security guard. Besides, the U.S. was not anticipating any military movement at that time so it was plain they were speaking about some other country's military.

Alarmed at what he heard, Gus reported it to major General Clancy, a longtime friend who worked at the Pentagon. Geoff Clancy was old-school though he was only 35 and one of the youngest generals in the country's history. Clancy investigated Gus's claim about military movements in the Middle East or anywhere in the world at the time and could not confirm it. The only substantial movement of any kind was what appeared to be a minor refugee movement into Van in Eastern Turkey from various places but mostly from Iraq and Iran. However, there definitely was not any military equipment involved in the migration and satellite imaging didn't even uncover a single firearm. However, at Gus's insistence, Clancy agreed to keep an eye on the situation, and especially the refugee migration.

Gus then got approval to form his committee under the guise of campaign fraud inquiry which would give Gus the license he needed to dig deeper into Abdul's private life and his association with Toprak Esir Inc. For nearly the last 20 years, Toprak had enjoyed unprecedented business success amassing over 800 billion GD (global dollar) in sales. Most unclear however were where the earnings actually came from and what business Toprak was in. It was clear they were heavily into real estate in Dubai, London, Singapore and other international financial centers, but how they were able to acquire such massive holdings without any record of investors was a mystery. At every turn, Toprak was cloaked in obscurity and wove a never-ending paper-trail of dead ends and obvious political favors from many governments. Toprak was a company that seemed to pull money out of the thin air like magic.

One hundred years ago, this inquiry and subsequent exposure would have been easy, where spies and traitors were quickly deported or dispatched to unknown prisons, but in 2040, political correctness was more than just a rule of proper minority titles and acceptable subjects at dinner parties. Political correctness in 2040 effectively killed freedom of speech and the wrong use of certain words or a misinterpreted comment cost many their jobs, social standing and in at least one case their life. To attack Abdul and Toprak openly was a dangerous endeavor and one that required very careful planning and an elaborate algorithm of calculated risks. It was obvious that Toprak, Abdul and everyone involved counted on the politically correct gag-order in the U.S. to allow them walk among the population unmolested and even proud.

Abdul Faris was a quiet sort. Rarely was he seen in any conversation with anyone in the Senate and was the only senator without a staff on location in Washington. The investigation revealed indisputable proof that Faris was an employee of Toprak and a Turkish citizen. The fact that this was so easily discovered was proof that they didn't care who found out and counted on the ignorant Americans to bite their tongues. What was even more arrogant was the fact that there was no record of Faris ever becoming a U.S. Citizen in the 10 years he had been in the United States. Gus and his committee had enough on Faris to convict him as a spy and land him in a prison cell at Guantanamo Bay, but the much more dangerous question was why? Why was it so important for a global real estate company to have an ear in the U.S. Senate? In the two years Faris had held his seat he did almost next to nothing. He hadn't sponsored a single piece of legislation or even attended a single social event in Washington. To say he was flying under the radar was an understatement;. Abdul was crawling underground. If he was digging for information, he didn't walk in the right circles or even know the right people.

Gus's committee had discovered that Faris had been an employee of Toprak since 2025 and had lived a seemingly quiet life in Istanbul as a lowly property manager earning 50,000 GD (global dollar) a year. In 2030 he was transferred to Portland, Oregon by Toprak to negotiate a relatively insignificant real estate deal; insignificant compared to the other holdings of the company. Once in the States, Abdul never left and the deal seemed to all be a front even though his work visa was renewed every year by an undisclosed sponsor. From there, the next thing the records showed was Faris being awarded a U.S. Senate Seat in Oregon. Gus's committee randomly called 300 residents in Oregon and all respondents thought their Senator was Peter Delano. Senator Delano was defeated in 2032 by Faris in an election no one seemed to remember. Delano had held the seat since 2008 so it wasn't all that surprising that a politically apathetic public still thought he was in office. The voting records showed a close but decisive victory for Faris however, they could not find a single voter who voted for Faris nor anyone who even knew who he was.

Three months ago, desperate for answers, Gus had Abdul trailed for several weeks and what he discovered could only be described as bizarre. Every evening, Abdul left his Senate Building office and walked round the Ellipse on the White House lawn twice; once clockwise and then counter clockwise, the whole time talking on his cell phone. He then made his way on the Metro to 1211 Wisconsin Ave. to an upstairs walk-up, next door to the Potomac Masonic Lodge No. 5. This could have been just a coincidence but based upon Abdul's bizarre behavior he couldn't be sure. Being a Mason was not a crime in 2040, unlike some religious organizations that had been disbanded in the last 10 years. After all, the lodge was not well marked and he never actually saw Abdul enter the lodge. The only other regular destination Abdul frequented was Martin's Tavern in Georgetown, almost nightly. Abdul would not be the only alcoholic in the Senate and based upon the kind of life Abdul lead, anyone would have needed a stiff one every night just to remain upright.

The little Gus and his committee did discover about Abdul and Toprak in the past two years was enough to bring it to the attention of the Senate and sound the alarm that there was a potentially very dangerous threat to national security in play. What disturbed Gus more than what had happened with Abdul and Toprak was the way it happened. Gus knew once his findings were presented to the Senate, all fingers would point to immigration law. Immigration reform for the past 30 years had been a favorite steppingstone for political opportunists but never was there any meaningful reform. The existing laws were probably sufficient to protect the country, but they had not been truly enforced for decades. Gus knew he had to rule out immigration as the culprit in his speech, but to approach the real issue was a career-ending minefield.

The bulleted points on the lectern in front of him had been carefully selected and even more carefully worded to be as politically correct as possible. Attacking a minority senator was dangerous ground for anyone in 2040, but especially for an elected public official. The fear of being labeled raciest had become the Scarlet Letter of the 21st century and every so-called decent citizen subscribed to the politically correct agenda as fierce as the previous generations held fast to Christianity.

"Senator Guiscard, do you require a hot poker?" said the Speaker in an impatient sigh, which evoked a Hmmored response from the senators in attendance.

Gus turned to look at the Speaker and slowly shook his head in disgust and said, "Yes. Yes, I believe I do. I believe we all do Mr. Speaker." Gus took off his glasses and folded them back into his coat pocket as his committee members went into an instant panic. They knew Gus was as blind as a bat without his glasses and not being able to read his notes meant he was about to go rogue. Gus had decided he could no longer ignore the politically correct elephant in the room that was paving the way for wide spread espionage and political take over. Under his breath, he asked his committee members to forgive him as he looked out onto the Senate floor and holding onto both sides of the lectern he began to speak.

"Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, yearning to breathe free." Pausing for effect, he continued, "For the past 264 years, we have been a lamp and many times the only light in a world full of conspiring men with oppressive intent and evil desires; desires to enslave the world to glutton their spoils on their insatiable lust for power and excess. I testify today that at least one and probably more of those evil-intending men are here today, serving in this Congress, unabated and unchecked. This body was designed by our fathers to champion and serve the tired and poor huddled masses of this country and the world. I stand before you today and charge this body to be courageous and fearless in the execution of that sacred charge entrusted to us by this people and the responsibility we have inherited by those whose bodies lie rotting in the graveyard. In the name of that sacred trust I charge this body to awake and to SEE and SAY things AS THEY ARE! "

Shocked and angry murmurs erupted from the floor in a confused whirlwind of white noise. Raising his voice to be heard above the chatter and moving nearer to the microphone Gus continued. "My fellow public servants, we who have been entrusted with the sacred duty to keep the flame of liberty burning, we have been caught on our laurels with our pants down and we seem to think we have been elected to sit upon a throne. The only throne we have a God-given right to sit upon is that porcelain throne in the men's washroom, not in this sacred hall and not in this sacred country. We are free men and yet we choose to enslave ourselves under the lies of liberality and the stench of political correctness. For the past 26 months, I and my distinguished colleagues have investigated the comings and goings of one of our own and I am loath to share with you today that our findings show indisputable proof of Mr. Faris's fraud on this country and on the people of the great State of Oregon. As unforgivable as his actions are, we mustn't focus on Abdul Faris for he is just the branch. We must focus on the root from which he sprang and the reason such a travesty of this proportion could go unchecked in this country. This United States of America, the land of the free and the home of the brave, has become a slave to its own freedoms."

Gus's committee was now officially in a panic. He hadn't followed a single note in front of him and his remarks were as far as one could get from being cautious and calculated or politically correct. With discrete hand waving, they tried in vain to deter his attention and redirect his focus. The Senate was now in a state of both alarm and confusion and they made it known in not so quiet whispers. In the confusion toward the back of the room, Gus saw Abdul Faris slip out unnoticed to everyone but he and his committee. By now, Gus's countenance was bloodshot and taking a desperately needed breath, he continued in a tone that was only lesser by degrees.

"Our most sacred freedom in this great country was our freedom of speech. I say _was_ because we live in a country where it no longer exists. We dare not speak the truth or our minds for fear of offending others and worse, fear that we will be ridiculed and publicly Hmmiliated. The enemies of freedom have invented a tool–no a weapon, that so effectively subdues truth under the guise of kindness that the whole country is wounded and bleeding from it. Political correctness is the illusion of kindness that hurts us all. We as a nation have become so obsessed with inoffensive language that we can no longer communicate to say nothing of labeling things as they truly are. We live in a world where the truth cannot be spoken lest we offend some protected class. We have all become so wounded by this deceitful and cunning weapon that we dare not say anything and therefore we have also stopped seeing. Political correctness is the sanctioned process of labeling things as they are not and if we cannot find a fitting label, we say nothing at all. This is how we can have senator Faris, a Turkish citizen hold a seat in this house without question and without notice.

Through this cancer of political correctness, we have become a divided people. If we are to continue to stand as the greatest war in modern history bangs on our doors, we will only do it with open eyes and united. When Lady Liberty first graced the harbor of New York we were called the great melting pot. The huddled masses flocked to our shores to have the _privilege_ of being called Americans. Today, we are not Americans but African-Americans, Asian-Americans, French-Americans and the lot; anything but plain Americans. However, that might have been tolerable but as of late we have even begun to drop the hyphen and just call ourselves, Latinos, Asians, Muslims and the rest of the ethnic soup that we then try to stir into a unified nation. Who are we kidding?

In embracing and _celebrating_ –oh you gotta love that word–our differences we have become more and more different and there is nothing to celebrate in difference. Show me a single marriage that is worth the price of a cheap divorce lawyer that makes it work by rubbing in each other's face how different they are. How absurd, the thought of celebrating difference! Difference does not unite us, difference distances us. Our enemies know what they are doing; they are not as stupid as we. They know emphatically that divided we will fall! Ladies and gentlemen, we stand divided and robbed of our ability to even address it!

We have kicked a dead horse all day today and argued the implications and actions we should take if we should be invaded or if we should help our allies. Ladies and gentlemen, the enemy is already here. In case you missed it–and I know you did–the invasion happened 60 years ago and so long as we suffer under this illusion of enlightenment we might as well take one last vote today to change the Statue of Liberty's inscription to, 'Give me your terrorists, your jihads and your huddled filth, yearning to destroy.' Mr. Speaker, I have no time left. I only pray our beloved country does."

Gus crumpled up his unused notes in disgust, threw them in the trash and walked out of the silent hall with all eyes watching him. After Gus left the room, the Speaker stood, dropped the gavel on his desk and began clapping. His applause was not returned by any other senator and it echoed in the stunned room.

Walking into his office, Gus was greeted by his energetic young intern who had been serving as his aid for the last year. In her normally contagious, cheerful tone she asked, "So—how did it go?"

In disbelief at what he had just done, Gus could only shake his head and without a word, he walked into his office and locked the doors behind him.

Veronica Paige was just out of college, and was the best aid Gus had ever had. She was extremely intelligent, efficient and beautiful with a near photographic memory. Nothing fell through the cracks with Veronica, except when she had over a single ounce of alcohol in her system. She did everything extremely well except hold her liquor. Gus had had many interns over the years but none that he connected with and loved so very much as Veronica. He was old enough to be her grandfather and that was the very relationship they had. In addition to being scary-smart, Veronica's attachment to Gus was mutual and there seemed to be nothing she loved more than looking after Gus, despite his urging for her to go find a rich, young lawyer and have babies. Gus was very fond of her and as he leaned back in his chair and looked out on the Washington Monument–as if he didn't have enough regrets for the day–he regretted responding so cold to her and rubbed his forehead and sighed.

Laying his head back on the tall leather chair and closing his eyes, his mind wandered an ocean away to a college professor and mentor he loved, his grand-father. Gus was born in England in 1970 and attended Cambridge where his grand-father taught political science. His grand-father had inspired Gus and was largely responsible for placing his feet on a political path at a very early age. For the better part of his childhood, Gus (and his grand-father) dreamed of holding a seat in Parliament. Two years after his grand-father passed away, Gus had moved to the States with the intent of attending an American law school. Shortly after his arrival however, he became involved with American politics and found himself in the hotbed of the Western political frontier which at that time was in great upheaval due to the Non-profit Fairness Act that required all non-profit organizations and churches to pay a parishioner tax.

He put off law school so that he could focus on his new found vocation but quickly realized that in order to effect real change; he had to do more than lobby congressmen and manage fundraising activities. He became a naturalized citizen and after the mandatory nine year waiting period, he ran for one of the two senate seats in Wyoming and won. Now at 70, he had seen a lot of corruption in his time in the U.S. Senate and he had fought all his days to resist and prosecute it. He loved being an American and honored it more than most other people he knew but in 2040, patriotism was politically incorrect, not to mention a lonely party.

His mind returned to an old classroom in Trinity Hall, paneled in dark English oak and medieval-looking walls. He could hear the familiar squeak of the wood and cast iron seats as students struggled to get comfortable during one of Doctor Guiscard's long lectures. There was one particular lecture that had been burned upon his memory and he could hear it in his mind as clear as the day he first heard it. All these years later, Gus still recited it to find both strength and the courage to walk the hard and lonely walk he had done so often during his career.

"Politicians are corrupt by definition because of how their world is defined. Political systems are corrupt and they corrupt all that participate in them eventually. But give me a man who will not be corrupted and if the system doesn't destroy him first, he will change the world."

Gus was shocked back to the present with anxious and alarming noises outside his office doors. He heard Veronica yelling in earnest but the exact words he could not discern so deep was his daydream. Rushing to his office doors, he heard Veronica scream as two bullets burst through his doors striking him in the chest and face and knocking him to the floor. Luckily, the old and very heavy mahogany doors of his office stripped the mortal velocity from the slugs as they sent dagger-like splinters across the room, leaving him bleeding and bruised but alive. Dazed and struggling to make sense of the last 5 seconds, he heard two more shots fired and then silence.

As he lay there, he waited to hear Veronica's voice and pleaded, "Please, say something. Say something, damn-it." All he could hear was the reverberation of gun shots playing through his mind like distant thunder. Silence and silence–nothing.

"Senator, are you in there? Are you hurt?" yelled an unfamiliar voice outside the doors followed by urgent pounding.

Staggering to his feet, he stumbled across the room and opened the doors and there at the threshold was Veronica's crumpled lifeless body in a growing pool of blood. It was obvious that she had tried to stop the gunman from entering his office and when she could not deter him, she placed herself between him and the gunman. The two bullets that had knocked him to the floor had first passed through her body at point-blank range. Gus fell to his knees and picked up her lifeless body and cradled her in his arms. With a shaking hand, he brushed back blood-filled hair away from her youthful face and wept.

The light from her face was gone. Gus felt her neck for a pulse, and waited, tried again, and again–nothing. Her eyes were still painfully wide open and he gently placed his hand on her eyelids and held his hand there until the muscles relaxed so they would remain shut. In that moment of utter despair, he felt an infinite determination sweep through him and a youthful power of heart that had long since left his tired body. Involuntarily, but rising up from the sincere desires of his heart, he whispered to her soul, "Please live!"

Veronica's head shook from the under the touch of Gus's hand and in complete shock he quickly removed it as she struggled to sit up, gasping and coughing up the blood that had drained into her lungs. She tried to smile in her old familiar way, the way she always did when she first greeted Gus in the morning, but in the confusion and mortal disorientation of the moment she could only say, "There is a man here to see you."

# Chapter 2

Gus inserted his key into his office door but turning the knob he discovered it was already unlocked. He opened the door and found the maintenance crew busy at work replacing his carpeting and hanging two new mahogany doors.

"Good morning senator, welcome back," said the supervisor of the small crew as the other three men nodded their heads in agreement. "We'll be out of your hair within the hour. We weren't expecting you until Monday."

"It's no problem," said Gus, pausing and leaning to read the man's name badge he continued, "Marshall. I am rather amazed at your promptness. I would have guessed those doors would have been a special order."

"Oh no, we have many on hand sir," replied Marshall.

"That's a little frightening, I had no idea we had so many shootings in the building."

Unsure of how to respond to Gus's light-heartedness over his near assassination, Marshall stuttered "Well, no sir, I mean not many sir. I'm, I'm very sorry – sir."

"Well, carry on then. If you don't mind, I am expecting my committee momentarily. Could you please just shuffle them my way?"

"Of course sir, nice to see you doing so well sir."

"Thank you, I am feeling very well indeed," said Gus. Walking into his office and picking up a scrap of carpeting as a souvenir.

Gus sat down in his comfortable but well-worn executive leather chair that could have also been replaced but it was now like an old favorite t-shirt that defined the meaning of comfort. _I am feeling very well indeed?_ he thought, rehearsing in his mind what he had just said to Marshall. He spun his chair around so that he could peer through the slightly open door at the workmen and reflected on the very formal and respectful conversation he had just had with Marshall. He couldn't remember a time when he had such an interaction with any of the Capital Building staff. He was even more surprised at his word selection. It was as if they were both exchanging phrases from a Patrick O'Brian novel. He smiled and said aloud chuckling, "Well, that is very nice–indeed." _There is certainly nothing wrong with a little respect and formality in the proper situation_ , thought Gus.

Gus's was senior to all his committee members by at least 20 years and over the past two years, they had become very close friends. The Faris investigation committee consisted of four members besides Gus: Theodore (Ted) Schuyler, Matthew Hector, Shay Naoki and Jess Erdem. Gus had carefully chosen his committee members since he knew the investigation into Abdul Faris was going to yield much more than campaign financing fraud. In fact, it took a fair amount of convincing for most of the members to consent to being on such a paltry committee, with the exception of Shay Naoki.

Shay was a third generation Japanese immigrant representing the State of Hawai'i. Shay's grand-parents moved to Hawai'i in the fall of 1941 as migrant workers for the thriving Dole Pineapple Company which then owned the entire island of Lāna'i. Their timing couldn't have been more off as the Imperial Japanese Navy bombed Pearl Harbor just eight months later. Shay's grand-parents were part of the 150,000 Japanese that were relocated in 1943. Because of his grand-parent's arrival to Hawai'i, just months before the attack they were seen as special interest detainees and were shipped off to Fort Missoula, Montana which was one of eight Justice Department detention camps in the U.S. The conditions were poor in the Fort mostly since the Fort was originally built in 1877 and was a make-shift processing and interrogation center before the quasi-prisoners were relocated based upon their threat to the war effort. In mid-1943, they were returned to Hawai'i but detained in the Honolulu Internment Camp until their release in 1944.

Shay's grand-parent's wartime experience had a big influence on him and was the main motivation for Shay going into politics. In 1988, his father was working as an intern in Washington when President Ronald Reagan issued the official Interment Apology, a little late but an appreciated gesture from the government. Shay's father died young and never was able to fulfill his dream of running for the Senate, which also propelled Shay into public servitude. Shay was on the quieter side, but perhaps just calculated and very deliberate than just merely quiet. He always chose his words carefully and his word was as iron. Shay quickly accepted to be on Gus's committee because of his great respect for him and figured that anything Leroy Guiscard undertook was of extreme importance.

Gus heard the voices of his committee members enter the front office and heard Marshall sending them his direction, in very formal and respectful tones again. Being so impressed with Marshall, he grabbed a Post-it note from his desk and wrote down Marshall's name and a note to contact the maintenance department and provide a positive reference for Marshall. Just finishing his note, his committee entered his office and he stood up to greet them.

"There he is, the hero of the year!" cried Matt, one of his committee members, as he took Gus's hand and pulled him into a strong embrace.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," said Gus. "I have not saved anyone, not really 'er I don't think."

Gus wondered if the security guards present on the day of the shooting had said anything about Veronica being revived in his arms. The experience had troubled him greatly because he couldn't place it into any of his mental schemas and in any realm of what he considered believable reality. Certainly miracles happened all the time where people who were supposed to be dead, lived and defied medical reason, but Gus knew what he felt just before Veronica opened her eyes, and he also knew that Veronica was stone-cold dead in his arms. She had received a shot through her brain and another straight through her heart. The shooter was no amateur and his aim was deadly perfect.

Laughing, Matt continued, "We're talking about your heroics on the floor last week. It's a shame you have not been here to reap your spoils. The Speaker called a special session on Saturday and continued where you left off and went on for hours. We can fill you in on the details later of course, but you can watch it for yourself on the recordings. Abednego, Devadas and Gilchrist have all been indicted. It seems your rampage knocked some dirt loose in the Senate and it's all a little bit of a witch hunt at the moment. Everyone is hanging a little low right now."

Relieved and at the same time extremely surprised, Gus cried, "Oh! Oh, wow. Really? I thought I might have been handcuffed today and hauled off to my own tribunal after what I did the last time I was in this building."

"So did we to be honest," said Shay, "that was the damnedest speech I ever heard."

"Here, here!" cried the rest of the committee.

Gus took another deep sigh of relief, "I thought you were talking about the extra-curricular activities that happened in here after the show."

"Oh, well as far as that goes, we have all decided to just call you Lazar-Gus," said Matt. The committee all erupted into a hardy laugh until they saw Gus's strait and very sober face.

Quickly regaining composer and recovering for the rest of the committee, Jess interjected, "Very sorry sir. That was completely out of turn and callous."

"Not at all, not at all, it is very Hmmorous indeed." He stopped and laughed again at his quite involuntary use of the word _indeed_. The committee regained a sense of relief at Gus's laughter and the room returned to its usual warmth and light-heartedness that was customary in Gus's committee meetings.

Gus got up and walked over to the newly hung doors, shut and locked them. Turing around, the feeling in the room was again a little tense and all faces were on Gus in anticipation of what he was about to say. Returning to his chair he rubbed both hands on his face, then folding them in front of him on his desk, deep in thought and carefully choosing his next words, he turned to Jess and asked, "Speaking of Lazarus, what do you know about the raising the of the dead?" Those were about the last words Jess thought would come out of Gus's mouth at that moment.

Dumbfounded, Jess responded with a very unrehearsed, "Um–that it only happens in the Bible and possibly–I–guess I don't know how you mean–sir."

Matt chuckled, "Sir—What's with the formalities Jess?" More confused than ever and feeling quite out of control with the situation and his own speech of all things, Jess looked at the other members of the committee for help feeling lost and stupid.

Jess had a Masters of Divinity degree from Notre Dame Seminary in New Orleans and had every intention of becoming a Diocesan Priest. Jess formally became a candidate for the priesthood but was never recommended by his bishop. While he waited for his recommendation, he became interested in law and decided he could do a lot of good if he was both a lawyer and a priest. Wanting to stay in consort with the same diocese and bishop, he attended Tulane University. By the time he graduated the writing was on the wall that he was probably not ever going to get his recommendation and returned to his home State of Texas and did what lawyers do. He became the general counsel for an oil firm that had been granted one of the two domestic new drilling contracts in the United States. The only such contracts issued since 2010. His time as a lawyer had turned out very well for him financially after selling his shares. He left the private sector a multi-millionaire and in his mind, running for a public office was as close as he was going to get to being a priest. He won a Texas Senate seat in '32 after being defeated in the previous election. Now in his second term, Jess was known for his strait-talking sermons in the Senate and Christian scriptural fluency, of course.

As Jess was struggling for an appropriate answer to such a bizarre question, Ted reluctantly volunteered what he knew about the reanimation of death, which wasn't very much. "Well, there was Bede." Jess gave him a relieved thankful glance for coming to his rescue. "The Venerable Bede in the first century England recorded in his history a very matter of fact description of a Lazarus moment."

Theodore Schuyler was a scholar and was among the sharpest men Gus had ever met and Gus had chosen him to be on his committee for that very reason. Ted was a graduate of USC and was on his third term representing the State of Nebraska. Unlike most members of the Senate, Ted had an MBA not a law degree, with two undergrads in medieval history and psychology. Gus never trusted lawyers which was something he probably picked up from his grand-father. In Gus's estimation, lawyers were one of the main reasons why governments were corrupt. Having attended many pre-law and philosophy courses in his college career, Gus couldn't see how someone who subscribed to the ideal that there was no moral right or wrong, only law wasn't fit to live in society let alone run it. Over the years, Gus was careful to align himself with non-attorneys. The one exception to this guiding principle was Jess Erdem.

Frustrated, Gus responded, "Yes, yes, yes. There are bookshelves of experiences of this sort all of which I used to see as poppy-cock. What I must know is how is it accomplished?" Realizing how absurd the words that just left his mouth must have sounded, he hung his head in his hands and groaned in frustration feeling as if he were slipping into insanity. Gus had always prided himself as being very rational and clear-headed, but what was swirling around in his mind now was anything but.

Matt, who was always the relief to tense situations in the committee, responded light-heartedly, "Um, Gus–maybe one of those damn slugs knocked a wire loose dude, I mean, sir." He said laughing, making fun of Jess.

Matthew Hector was the youngest member of the committee and more than a few times Gus wondered why he had invited him to participate. Matt was the proverbial definition of a loose cannon. His aim was often off but his might was deadly. When Matt got behind something you could put it in the record books as a victory. Matt was a former football player who played Safety for San Francisco for a few seasons but after a championship win and a career-ending knee injury he returned home to a local hero's welcome. For a time, he attended the University of Montana to work on an MBA but never finished. With only an undergrad in some kind of ridiculous Sport and Fitness degree, Matt assailed to the U.S. Senate on charisma alone. He was in his first term now for the State of Montana and his contagious and somewhat coarse personality made him very popular with the media and his fans. He was the only senator Gus knew who had a concealed weapons permit and he packed every day. He was also the only senator who referred to his constituents as his fans, but it was emphatically true. His fan mail often clogged the Capital mailroom, especially after a misaimed endeavor and he was by far the senator with the most media time. The public loved him and it was easy to see why. He was the people's candidate and he–most often crassly–called the plays of the government as he saw them. He had a sort of Hmmble-ego that people loved and he made a six-figure income off the sales of his Safety-Senator apparel, capitalizing on his rise from playing Safety to serving as a senator.

Gus had gone too far now to retract what he had said and the committee and his dear friends needed an explanation. He took a deep sigh and said, "Have any of you seen my Veronica and how she is doing?"

They all nodded and Jess replied, "Sure, we all saw her when we came to see you that night at Georgetown Med Center. The ER was giving her a once-over to make sure she was alright since she was so completely covered in blood. They determined that it must have been yours since they didn't find any bullet wounds and they estimated you had lost over two pints while you were attending her–pure chivalry heroics by the way. Why, has she taken a turn for the worse?"

"No, no she is perfectly fine," pausing, still in complete unbelief, "I expect her back today as a matter of fact."

Matt took his hand off from supporting his head on Gus's desk in a questioning gesture and said emphatically, "Then what Gus? Are you sure you're OK?"

"What I am about to tell you, you all must swear to me by everything sacred in this world and in God's heaven that you will never repeat it."

Every eye in the room widened and they all sat-up in attention and slowly began to nod. Matt was the only one to verbally respond with what everyone else was thinking, "Oooooo-kaaaaay."

Collecting his thoughts and courage, Gus began, "After security shot the gunman they banged on my door and I got up since the doors were locked. When I opened them, Veronica was lying in her OWN blood outside my door. I held her, I took her pulse several times and noticed she had been hit twice once in the head and the other through her heart."

"But," started Shay.

Gus interrupted, "I know, I know, she was alive and well when you saw her in the ER and without a single scrape. That's what I'm trying to tell you. She was a damn corpse a week ago and it was nothing I imagined and I can prove it."

Gus took out the piece of carpeting he picked up on his way in that morning. It was crusted and dry, but had been drenched in blood a week ago. "Here is a scrap of the carpeting that was outside my door last week. Have it analyzed and you will find Veronica's DNA all over it. You can obviously see it is completely covered clear through to the backing." He said as he turned it over. There wasn't a piece of the scrap that wasn't now dark red both front and back. "For someone to lose this much blood and not have a scratch is, I'm sure you would agree, impossible."

They all nodded at random as Ted reached out to take the carpet scrap, "If what you say is true Gus," Ted paused and added, "all of it. We have a potential problem on our hands if the FBI has also taken a DNA sample. I can't even imagine how the Feds would handle a case of a woman who lost that much blood and is alive," said Ted.

Considering Ted's concern, Gus responded feeling very out of control with the situation, "Agreed, but since everyone seems to be so convinced that I was the only bleeder there that day, there would be no need for a sample. If they did take one, we'll just have to hope that the stigma of the inefficiencies of the government holds true and the right hand doesn't talk to the left."

Gus and his committee often referred to the Feds as a separate body completely since they saw themselves opposed to the way most of the government conducted themselves, even though they were technically Feds themselves.

Resuming the meeting, Gus continued, "Alright, with that out of the way, let's discuss why I invited you here today." Ted placed the carpet scrap into his coat pocket and leaned back into is chair as did the rest of the committee. "Homeland Security and the FBI visited me at my home after I was released from the hospital on Monday and said they had the identity of my shooter. As it turns out–he was a security guard here in the building and worked here for the better part of 10 years, had an impeccable record, never even missed a day–robotic bastard. He was out of uniform which is why I didn't pick-up on it. However, in the aftermath as you can imagine I was less than sharp. They were able to identify him easy enough through the security footage. He wasn't carrying any ID only a disposable cell phone. I asked if I could see the phone but as you can imagine the Feds have this investigation pretty buttoned-up. However, they did tell me there was only a single text message in the phone's history. Of course the origin was unknown but the message was only a five digit number."

"What was the number?" asked the committee almost in unison.

"12345."

"What the..." responded Matt.

Ted and Jess both whispered the number to themselves as their minds tore through a lifetime of memorized facts. Jess, who was well read in Hebrew, offered the suggestion, "In some languages, numbers have meaning beyond their numerical value, Hebrew for example."

"What do 12345 mean in Hebrew?" asked Shay.

"Nothing that makes any sense," responded Jess, disappointed and frustrated.

Shay pulled out his phone and compared the letters associated with each number of the dialer and worked the variations out in his mind, but didn't find anything remotely intelligent.

"Maybe it was just a wrong number?" said Matt in his playful demeanor.

Gus looked up over his glasses and said to Jess who was sitting next to Matt, "Will you kindly take Einstein out to the wood shed and show him some Texas lovin'."

Just then there was a knock at the door and Veronica's voice calling," Senator, are you in there?"

Gus was thrown back to a week ago when he was lying on the floor in pain and pleading to hear her voice or any sign that she was alive. He jumped out of his chair in a shocked start and raced to the door, and embraced Veronica for several moments. He released her after the sound of someone clearing their throat from behind him in his office and they stood and looked at each other for a moment longer as a tear rolled down Veronica's cheek and she said, "It's very good to see you today Senator." In a slightly more formal tone than Gus was used to.

They hadn't had the opportunity to talk since the incident and Veronica knew this was not the place or time to lash into a conversation about cheating death, so she just looked at Gus with sacred admiration.

Breaking off their unspoken conversation Gus said, "Come in, come in Veronica. I believe no one here needs introduction."

The committee rose to professionally shake her hand and give her a kiss on the cheek. Coming to Matt, Veronica took a polite step back and just shook his hand. Gus had never noticed any enmity between the two and he made a mental note to address it with Veronica at a later time.

"Well gentlemen, I believe we are done here. Think over those 5 digits and see what you can come up with. In the meantime, let's see if we can track down Senator Faris."

"Oh," said Shay, "I meant to tell you, he has not been seen since he walked out last week and his office has been empty."

"Hmm," responded Gus. "Not all that surprising I suppose. All the more reason we should track him down then, Hmm?"

The committee shuffled out the door, leaving Gus and Veronica alone. For a moment they stared at one another, not sure where to begin with the long list of things they needed to talk about. They began to speak at the same time then stopped and then apologized simultaneously.

Chuckling, Gus, took the lead and said, "Let's start with Senator Hector, shall we? He is an unpredictable sod at times but he is not without his virtues."

"Yes, of course and I suppose I shouldn't have treated him so coolly today, I am very sorry."

"Well now, I don't think there was any harm or any real foul and since Matt isn't made of glass I'm sure he is fine. I am more concerned for your well-being, especially while you are in my house."

Veronica paused a moment as she collected her thoughts. Her eyes looked toward the floor and being an excellent reader of non-verbal behavior, Gus could tell she was recalling something from memory.

"I've thought a great deal about my life over the past week and I decided to stand up for myself a little more since life can be painfully short. Actually I suppose I didn't just decide life was short, it was forced upon me. Anyways..."

Gus interrupted her, clearing his throat. He was a stickler for proper grammar and _anyways_ was one of those words that had the effect of nails on a chalkboard.

"Oh, sorry sir, I forget myself," replied Veronica with a quick head bow.

Veronica had never called Gus, sir and she had never bowed to anyone. They both just looked at each other for a moment, not sure whether the title reference and bow required any discussion. Veronica raised her eyebrows and shook her head and continued. "During my first week here, Matt came by to see you and you were out. He was very pleasant but quickly become flirtatious, on a benign level mind you, but I still thought it unbecoming of a U.S. Senator."

"Indeed!" interjected Gus, then rolling his eyes and shaking his head at another use of his new favorite word.

"When I recoiled at his advances, he said, you don't remember me do you?"

"Remember him? Remember him from where?" asked Gus.

"That's what I said and he just insisted that we had met before and left it at that." There was a pause in the conversation as Gus was waiting for Veronica to continue.

"That was it?" asked Gus a little confused?

"Well, it's what I don't remember that concerns me. I've only ever been fall-down drunk twice in my life, once in my college dorm with my roommates when I was a freshman and once in Petaluma, California about two years ago. Both experiences I blacked out and don't remember much. I think I can rule out my dorm room, but there is a haunting chance that we met in Petaluma. I have an aunt there and she invited me and my roomies up for the Harvest Festival. Have you ever been?"

"No, I have not," said Gus.

"Well, anyways–anyway," she corrected herself, "It really is a great time, lots of gourmet food and lots of wine, lots of wine–and you know me. "

"But you don't remember meeting him?" asked Gus.

"Not even a fuzzy hung-over dream," replied Veronica shaking her head.

"Well, the last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable, would you like me to speak with him?"

Veronica paused, responding slowly in thought, "No, thank you. I'll just woman-up and deal. When the time is right I'll question him about it when we can both speak freely. I feel more empowered than I ever have in my life."

"Fine," said Gus smiling and effectively putting a period on that topic and moving on the next. Gus chose to talk about his speech in the Senate next, mostly since he still had no idea how to approach the topic of mortal resurrection. "About my–apparently–now famous rant last week, I wondered..."

Veronica interrupted him which was very out of place for her and Gus was as equally surprised, "I beg your pardon sir, but I have to ask you a question."

Gus made it clear that she need not call him sir and she said, "About that–for the life of me, I can't understand why I have now done it twice. Obliviously I have never done that before except maybe in my initial interview but the word just comes to my mind, along with other words, actions and phrasing that I don't normally use."

Nodding Gus responded, "It has been a strange day that way. It began with my conversation with the clean-up crew in here this morning and continued with my committee meeting and now us. I am in agreement with you, the words and phrases seem to just move to the forefront of my tongue. It seems my new favorite word in the whole world is _indeed_ ," He said laughing.

"Indeed!" said Veronica, both of them now laughing. I've never heard you use that word either until today." They both laughed together again for a moment that died out into a quiet pause.

"It has been a strange week, starting with my rant on the Floor."

Veronica smiled and said, "I saw the recording and I have to say, I'm not at all surprised Senator Faris has disappeared or that anyone is still in the building for that matter. With all due respect sir, you really can lay out the lumber."

Gus smiled, "Looking back on it now, I felt so compelled to say what I did much the same as we struggle now with our word selection. Something is afoot, but to say so just seems ridiculous. I mean, what could possibly be happening that could affect such a change in Hmman–or at least our behavior? At least it doesn't seem to be affecting anything else thank goodness."

"You mean except for maybe bringing someone back from the dead?" interjected Veronica. She couldn't believe what she had just said–but now that the words were out she continued, "Gus, I saw you take my pulse and brush back my hair. I saw you close my eyes! How is that possible?" Veronica began to cry as she continued and her voice rose to a higher pitch, "I heard you crying" struggling now to speak at all she continued, "and I cried with you. It was the most painful experience of my life. Not the bullets but watching you so broken and holding my lifeless body." Recovering somewhat she continued, "That was when I noticed you were hurt as well and you had blood running down your face and all down the front of your shirt. It looked like you had been stabbed. How did that happen?" Veronica pulled a tissue from her desk and blew her nose.

"Oh, there was a rather large splinter that broke away from the door as one of the bullets passed through and lodged here on my right side," He said pointing to show her. "I wasn't even aware of it protruding out of my gut until we got you standing up and my shirt sleeve caught on it. They say I lost over two pints of blood before the paramedics arrived. I think I may have passed out since everything from then on is a little fuzzy."

"You were pretty out of it when they wheeled you out but I don't remember you losing consciousness," added Veronica.

"So you could see yourself, and me?" asked Gus.

"Yes, plain as day, like I was in the air."

"And you could hear as well?"

"Yes," said Veronica under the muffle of her tissue.

"What happened next?"

"I was hoping you knew. All I remember now is trying to open my eyes and struggling to breathe and then coughing."

Gus got up from out of the chair in front of Veronica's desk and walked over to the window and stood for several minutes without speaking looking out on the city lights in the twilight of the evening. Turning around his eyes were met by Veronica's in great anticipation of what he was about to say.

"I can't explain it," said Gus shrugging and shaking his head. "In my grief, I felt intense determination and power come over me. I wanted so badly for you to live and I whispered to you, or more to your soul I guess–Please live! The next thing I knew, you were shaking your head and trying to sit up."

"So it was like magic," Veronica responded enthusiastically.

Gus in a somewhat corrective tone said, "I haven't stopped thinking about it over the past week, but I have made a point to not use that word because there is no such thing. Something else had to have caused this. I just can't think of what."

Digging deeper into her memory, Veronica asked, "I remember the man firing and hearing the shot but nothing else until I saw you holding me. Is it possible that I just fainted and maybe dreamed it?"

Sitting back down and shaking his head, Gus replied "No, not a chance. I saw where you were shot and I took your pulse three times. Your blood–and I suppose some of mine too–made a pool there on the carpet four or five feet round. You were dead Veronica, I am sure of it."

Not sure if she really wanted to know, but couldn't help asking the morbid question she said, "Where was I shot?"

Gus looked at her over his glasses as he always did when he needed further reassurance to continue. Veronica nodded.

"Through your forehead and your heart. The bullets then passed through the door and struck me, along with the splinter."

In complete and utter amazement Veronica concluded, "It sounds like magic to me and you're the magic man Senator. I'm good with it." Laughing lightly Veronica said, "I owe a life time of servitude now you know," trying to lighten up the heavy conversation.

Since there was no other explanation at the moment, Gus shrugged and said, "I'm just so glad you are here and we are having any kind of conversation at all. "

"So am I."

"Well, seven 'o clock is plenty late to be here on a Friday," sighed Gus looking at his watch, "we can resume our conversation and where we go now with the Faris investigation on Monday."

They both collected their things and shut down their computers.

As they walked out the door, Veronica stopped and turned to Gus but didn't speak.

"What is it my dear?" asked Gus.

"Thank you," said Veronica as she gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Those stupid words seem so inadequate in this moment, but thank you. Thank you for giving me my life back."

Not sure what a proper or even adequate response should be to such an expression of gratitude, or if he was even the one she should be thanking, Gus just smiled and kissed her forehead.

Their footsteps faded away down the marble hallway and the north wing of the building was quiet and empty. In the silence, an office door next to Gus's slowly opened and out stepped Abdul. Quickly but quietly, he closed the door behind him and ran down the hall and out the doors.

# Chapter 3

After seeing Veronica safely to her car in the parking garage, Gus pulled out onto Constitution Avenue and proceeded toward the White House on his way to a flat he kept near George Washington University.

Gus insisted that he lived in a flat, which is an English term for a small apartment; however, it was a spacious four level townhouse built in 1880. It was perhaps only 40 feet wide but straight up for four stories as was typical for the era. Fifteen years ago all the plumbing and electrical was replaced but the charm and federal styling was all still intact and had been beautifully decorated by Gus's late wife.

As he was passing 15th Street he saw a man running in the darkness down the sidewalk. When he got closer the man turned on 16th toward Ellipse Road. Gus thought that if Abdul was anything he was a creature of habit and he was hoping that tonight as always he would be on the Ellipse. As he passed he saw that it was in fact Abdul as he had hoped. Gus slowed down and waited for Abdul to turn the corner onto the Ellipse and not wanting to be noticed, he pulled over to the curb and stopped the car. Getting out, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and being startled he spun around to see Matt with is child-like grin all geared up for an adventure.

"Welcome to the stake out _sir_ ," Still finding Hmmor in Jess's forced formality comment earlier in the day.

"Stake out?"

"Yeah, Shay and I figured we'd hit Abdul's old hang out to see if he turned up. We haven't seen him yet but, we still might get lucky."

"I just saw him not two minutes ago running onto the Ellipse which is why I pulled over right here so I would not be seen." Gus looked toward the Ellipse making sure they were not noticed by Abdul.

"What were you going to do Gus, accost him?" said Matt laughing.

"I hadn't thought through it completely but I figured I would at least try to talk to him."

Matt nodded a half dozen times thinking how that might go and said with amusement, "Sounds like a good plan."

Matt had a Heineken in his hand but didn't seem effected by it. He was never a heavy drinker and seeing him with a beer was a little out of place on a public street. However, it was Friday night and Gus ignored it. Matt was a little loose but that what was normal for him. He set the bottle on the top of Gus's car and started to walk in the direction of Abdul.

"Wait!" cried Gus. "This is crazy. This could turn very badly. We probably can't prove that Abdul had anything to do with the shooting but we know he keeps some very dangerous company with powerful friends."

"Oh, I'm certain he had something to do with it," said Matt. "But your right, as much as I would love showing him how we run the defense in the U.S. Senate, we should play this safe and just try to talk to him." Gus had never seen Matt with a cool head in stressful situations but if ever there was a time for some maturity it was now.

"Where's Shay?" asked Gus.

"Oh, he's on the Ellipse near the Boy Scout Memorial. We split up."

"Call him and tell him to remain out of sight. Abdul is walking clockwise which means he will be passing him in the next 10 minutes or so. Since we know he is only on his first lap, let's walk clockwise and we should meet up with him near the National Christmas Tree at the North end of the Ellipse."

"Fine, but you're not walking anywhere Gus. They removed a seven-inch wooden knife from your gut last week, or did you forget?" said Matt.

Gus was already several steps ahead on his way to the Ellipse but upon hearing Matt's sound advice he stopped. "I'm actually feeling very well, and it was a splinter not a knife and I doubt it was seven inches. But, you're right; this probably isn't an activity for a 70 year old senator. I'll wait until he passes on his counter clockwise rotation, walk to the Pavilion and wait for you there with a cup of tea." They parted ways in the darkness and Gus said a silent prayer hoping Matt could keep his cool.

The Ellipse is a circular walking path directly south of the White House and serves as a pathway to the National Christmas Tree—a permanent tree on the grounds that gets decorated every December—and various other monuments and memorials. The design of Washington as a city was peculiar with supposedly masonic symbols around every corner and bush. The city of Washington DC was a favorite topic of conspiracy theorists—even the street layout of the city was supposed to reveal an inverted five point star with the White House being at the bottom. Gus wanted to dismiss such ridiculous notions, but it was peculiar that Abdul chose the Ellipse at the bottom of an inverted star for his walking fetish. As Gus walked he concluded that it really didn't matter what he believed. History was full of terrible things that were sparked from misinformation. Chuckling to himself he thought there was a good chance that Abdul was just a little obsessive compulsive and was really just getting his exercise—in a suit.

Arriving at the Pavilion Gus made himself comfortable at a table in the corner and sipped his black tea enjoying a gentle summer evening in Washington. While he waited, he composed an email on his phone to the building maintenance department thanking them for the repairs to his office and wrote several lines praising Marshall for his very respectful demeanor. Pushing send, he placed his phone in front of him on the table and waited.

"Shay, you'll never guess who I just ran into?" said Matt calling Shay on his phone. "Lazar-Gus just showed up. I was walking toward the Ellipse on 16th when I saw his car pass me and park. I was going to give him a scare but thought better of it."

Shay was already uncomfortable with the situation and Matt's light-hearted approach irritated him. "Very mature Matt, I'm glad you decided to not give him heart failure after everything he's been through this week."

"Listen, Abdul is on the Ellipse which is why Gus stopped. He is starting his nightly double round-about and is currently on his clockwise loop. He will be passing you in less than 10 minutes so Gus and I think you should get out of sight. After he passes you, walk north toward the National Christmas Tree and I'll meet you there. Then when Abdul makes his counter clockwise loop, we'll be waiting."

It was now almost certain that they would run into Abdul and Shay was even more cautious and confused at the seeming lack of planning, "And then what, we're going to kill him?"

"You want to? Could be fun," said Matt obviously joking.

Shay sat down on a nearby bench, frustrated with Matt as he so often was. His last comment hardly needed a response but he quietly said with a sigh, "You're an idiot."

"Thanks! Ol' Gus just wants us to talk to him and ask him some of the usual questions like, where he was last Friday, who's his daddy..."

Dealing with Matt sometimes was like standing in a huddle waiting for the play call while the quarterback just cracked jokes, so Shay tried to give him a shot of reality, "Is everything a freaking joke to you? It's not like we're cops. We shouldn't even be doing this."

Matt was Hmmored by Shay's irritability, "Yeah, actually, most things are pretty funny if you look at them the right way. I guess I'm just not afraid."

Matt did seem a little more flippant and free-wheeling than usual. Shay wasn't sure if he'd go so far as to call him brave but he did seem stupid-fearless. He accredited it to arrogance and ignorance more than anything else. "Where is Gus?" asked Shay.

"He's waiting for us at the Pavilion," Matt started to say but Shay cut him off, "I see Abdul, later man," and hung up.

Once Abdul had passed, Shay rushed to the top of the Ellipse and waited for Matt behind the National Christmas Tree. Matt arrived a few minutes later and was surprised that Shay wasn't there yet. He walked south toward the direction Shay would have been coming from but didn't see him. He walked back to the Christmas tree and called out for Shay loudly. Shay came out from behind the tree with his finger to his lips motioning Matt to shut-up.

"What were you doing behind the tree?" Matt asked still talking loudly.

"I didn't want to look suspicious," whispered Shay.

"Oh, and a man in a suit hiding behind a tree isn't suspicious? You just went from being a senator ta ~~l~~ king a walk to a senator being a creeper."

Shay rolled his eyes and said nothing.

Before too long, they saw Abdul approaching right on time. As he got closer they could hear him speaking on his phone but the closer he got instead of being able to understand what he was saying they couldn't make out a single word. His speech was gibberish at best. It was more like grunts and slurs, the sound of which made their skin crawl and their hair stand on end. Abdul was now only 5 feet away but didn't seem to notice them standing there. Matt stepped in front of Abdul just before he was about to pass them in an attempt to make him stop so they could have their little talk. Abdul walked right into Matt and with a dead-weight tHmmp fell backwards, flat on his back. He stopped making the noise that was coming out of his mouth and just laid there in a dazed state. During the fall, his phone fell out of his hand and was lying on the path next to him. Shay immediately noticed that he was not on a call at all and that he must have just been holding the phone to his ear so he didn't look out of place walking the Ellipse babbling.

Matt and Shay, not knowing what else to do, stood there looking at Abdul and then at each other and then back Abdul. The strangeness of the situation had robbed them of any words that could have been spoken and they continued to stare at Abdul. It then occurred to Shay that maybe they should help him up. Matt had the same thought and bent down first and grabbed Abdul by the shoulder talking to him, "You okay buddy, let me help you up." Bending down to help, Shay saw a text message come through to Abdul's phone which made him step back. It was only a number–12345.

Coming back to his senses only slightly at hearing the text message alert, Abdul glanced over at his phone, and then came to life. He groaned deep in his throat and pushed Matt with great force away from him. Matt was six foot four and over 240 lbs. He was not someone you got aggressive with, especially someone of Abdul's size. Shocked, Matt stumbled a little in amazement and just stared at Abdul. Without hesitation, Abdul got to his feet and went after Matt with the ferocity of a lion tearing with his fingers any part of Matt's body he could reach. Still stunned, Matt fell backwards and Abdul pounced on his chest with his mouth open and rapidly proceeded to bite off mouthfuls of flesh where he could. Shay rushed to push Abdul off Matt's body but before he even reached him, Abdul stopped for a brief moment, with his hand on Matt's throat and raised his head and looked at Shay with bleeding and bulging eyes, quite out of control of his own actions, tormented and in pain. Abdul then raised a hand toward Shay and without touching him, threw him 10 feet backwards. Landing on his back, Shay quickly sat up and stared in fear. Abdul glared at Shay and spat out a piece of flesh from Matt's arm at him in defiance.

Before Abdul could focus his attention back on Matt, Matt grabbed Abdul by his hair and threw him off. Still crazed, Abdul came back with renewed ferocity. Matt met him mid-stride and landed a tightly closed fist in his face, breaking his nose and throwing a wash of blood and a few teeth into the air. Before Abdul could even stagger, Matt threw him to the ground like a rag doll and began to beat him mercilessly. Shay watched in utter amazement and fear. He knew Matt was rough around the edges and could even be cruel at times but he hardly thought he was capable of what he was seeing or that any man could inflict so much bodily damage upon another man with only his fits. Matt was already a large man with an impressive build but watching him destroy Abdul it was as if he had twice the strength as he normally did. Blood was everywhere on both men but Abdul was hardly recognizable. His face had been hit so many times that it was disfigured and already swelling. His nose cartilage had completely broken away from his face and was now hanging off to the side under his left eye.

As Abdul still struggled to break free, Matt continued pounding blow after blow. Shay was no expert on mortal combat but he was amazed Abdul was still conscious after the number of blows to his head. Shay then saw Gus walk up behind Matt and Abdul. Gus's presence made Abdul take another deep guttural growl and it faded up into the air and dissipated into the distance. Abdul's body went completely limp. It was obvious that he had been unconscious for some time during the beating and that whatever it was that had possession of him was the only thing animating him.

Gus put his hand on Matt's shoulder which caused him to stop and look up as if he had come back to himself. Matt looked down at Abdul and slowly got off his body and stood up. He looked around at both Shay and Gus and then down at Abdul. Matt could hardly believe what he had done although he was fully conscious of his actions and was not sorry. He wiped his mouth on his shirt and then held his right arm where a chunk of flesh was missing the size of a tennis ball. They were all in shock and they just stood there for several minutes catching their breath and looking at one another.

Breaking the silence, Matt spoke first, "Well, I didn't think he was going to be happy to see us but I didn't expect that."

Still in complete disbelief, Shay responded, "What the hell just happened?"

"Hell," said Gus.

Matt and Shay both looked at Gus trying to make sense of what he had just said. Gus continued, "My curiosity got the better of me so I left the Pavilion to see if I could observe from a distance. That's when I heard something unearthly. At first I actually thought that the zoo had an escaped lion on the loose. As I came nearer I saw Matt commencing the work of death on our friend here."

"Friend—what are you talking about Gus?" said Shay as upset as Gus and Matt had ever seen him.

"My dear Shay, do you think any man could carry on the way he did? Abdul is only a host. We've judged him wrongly I'm afraid." Both Shay and Matt looked at Gus in amazement that he seemed to know what was going on.

Both of them said in near unison, "A host?"

Thinking for a minute Matt said, "I don't know that I would say he is innocent, he must have consented to all this somewhere along the way."

"That may be true, that may be very true, but before we can ascertain that, we must clean up this mess," Gus said, pointing to Abdul, "Before someone sees three senators and a body on the south lawn."

Matt picked up Abdul's limp body, still out cold and threw him over his shoulder and made their way in the dark to Gus's car. Gus opened the trunk and took out a shirt from his bag of dry cleaning and gave it to Matt. "Put him in the trunk and clean yourself up. We can't have any blood on the upholstery. We have no idea where this is going but no matter where this mess ends up we can't be caught in a Bureau investigation."

Matt dropped Abdul into the open trunk with a lifeless thud, took off his shirt and threw it in on top of him. He then tied Gus's shirt around his arm, shut the lid and slid into the back seat of Gus's car. As they pulled away, Matt's empty Heineken bottle slid off the roof and shattered on the street.

"Where are we going?" asked Shay.

"We're going to take Senator Faris home, get comfortable and wait for him to come too," said Gus nonchalantly.

"Do you think that's safe? Going to his home I mean?" asked Shay nervously.

"Probably safer than bringing that kind of evil into any of our homes."

Shay had never heard Gus wax religious in all the time he knew him or label anything as evil. It was evident things were changing. Things were different for the whole world though no one knew it except for the four of them in the car and of course Toprak a half a world away. Everything was still very surreal and nothing made any real sense. One thing was clear however and that was that Toprak wanted the three of them dead.

Rehearsing the events of the last hour in his mind, Matt asked Shay, "Just before Abdul had his freak-out his phone rang. Did you by chance see who it was?"

"It wasn't a phone call it was a text," said Shay.

"Did you see what it said? Whatever it was it sure made Abdul light up."

"Let me guess," said Gus, "12345."

"Yeah, how did you know?" said Shay flippantly.

"We've been graced by that number before."

* * *

The ride to Abdul's flat was a quiet one. Matt was unusually silent, even for the current situation. He was usually joking about something or other but now he just sat in the back seat and looked out the window deep in thought. Pulling up to the curb in front of Abdul's walk-up flat, Gus said to Shay, "Call and wake up Jess and tell him to meet us here. I realize it is just past 12:00 but we need his help to unravel all this and I fear we can't wait until morning."

"What shall I tell him?" asked Shay.

"Tell him we need an expert in five point star symbology, the devil and how to dress a demon bite."

Shay started laughing, unsure of any other appropriate response, "That'll wake him up."

Gus saw lights pull up down on the street and went to the top of the stairs to meet Jess. Jess came running up the stairs and began to ask questions in between gasps. Gus put out his hand in a calming motion and in a quiet voice said, "We've had brush with the devil tonight I'm afraid and Matt is doing poorly. Come inside and I will catch you up."

Walking through the door, Jess noticed the door jamb was shattered from the door being kicked in and he stopped for a moment looking at it and then at Gus. Gus just smiled a half smile and said, "The Senator forgot his key."

Abdul's flat was very plain with little furniture and nothing in the way of comfort. The walls were bare and clothes and garbage were lying everywhere. The carpeting was old and matted and looked like it had never been vacuumed.

Jess saw Matt lying on the couch and Shay was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall with his knees pulled up to his chest, "You all look terrible."

"After you hear what we've been through tonight I think you'll agree we look pretty good," Gus responded wearily.

It was obvious that whatever had happened, Matt got the worst of it. The makeshift bandage made from Gus's shirt was completely blood-soaked as was the couch all around his arm. Matt was shivering slightly and was nearly drenched with sweat. It was obvious he was battling some kind of infection. Jess looked at Gus and was about to tell him they needed to get Matt to a doctor when Gus directed him to sit down in the only other chair in the room.

"Oh, no, you sit sir; you probably need it more than I do," Jess insisted.

"I am perfectly well. When you hear what I have to say, you will want to be the one sitting I assure you," said Gus as he started pacing again.

While pacing the floor—a behavior Gus habitually did to make his thoughts more linear instead of circular—he related to Jess the events of the night.

When he finished, Shay interjected "You forgot the part where your mere presence made the" he paused and choked a little, "demon, if that's what we're calling it, leave Abdul and vanish." Shay then corrected himself, "Well, we never really saw it but we heard it vanish–if that makes any sense."

Jess slowly nodded but then assessing the situation became confused as to why he was asked to come. "What we need is a doctor and a priest."

"And we would tell the doctor what, that Matt was bitten by a very large dog? No," said Gus taking a deep sigh, "no there are too many lose ends at the moment to make an announcement. The possibility of this cycling out of control into mass hysteria is almost certain. Never mind that this is still a matter of National Security. Going to any government authority is out of the question," said Gus, closing the door on the issue. "Besides, we have everything we need between the three of us."

Nervous and uncomfortable, Jess rose to his feet and countered in a raised voice, "I am no doctor and I am no priest!"

"You are the closest thing we have to both in this situation. And besides, the Church and the priesthood parted ways centuries ago if you believe Henry the VIII. You need not feel less of a man of God just because you have not been ordained."

Jess was wounded at Gus's shot at the church but he tried to rise above it. Gus was born and raised in England and was therefore a protestant and member the Church of England. Wars had been fought over the centuries between the two religions and over the past few years the battle lines seemed to be warming up again. Gus's father was a C of E Vicar, a little known fact about Gus and Jess was the only member of the Committee who knew it. To say emotions were running a little high at the moment was an understatement. With pleading in his eyes, Jess looked at Gus hoping he would not insist he pretend to be a priest. To Jess this was blasphemy and he could not bring himself to agree it was right.

Gus walked over to Jess and put both hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye, speaking very slowly and deliberately, "You are the most kind-hearted, Hmmble and honest man I know. Your heart is gold and you gave it to God many years ago and he has not forsaken nor forgotten you. Perhaps this is your calling and perhaps we are your brethren?" Jess had been taught that it was his heart that mattered most in getting an ordination to the priesthood and after Gus's piercing remarks, Jess nodded slowly as his eyes began to water.

He walked over to Matt who was shivering more now and thought back to what seemed like a lifetime ago and tried to remember his training in the seminary. He didn't remember anything about dressing a demon bite but demonic possession was probably close he figured. He paused for a moment and turning to Gus asked, "Gus? You raised Veronica from the dead, surely this is your duty not mine, I am so out of my depth I don't even know where to begin."

Gus thought for a moment. "I had considered that but I don't know how it works or if it was even me who did it or if it was some other power. Believe me, on our drive over here and while getting him comfortable I tried praying, and even commanded him to be healed. If I _was_ responsible for Veronica's second breath, it clearly was a different situation than this. That thing that bit him was pure evil and requires pure good to heal him."

Jess sighed and turned back to attend to Matt.

Through the night he performed every exorcist prayer, ordinance and rite he could remember and Matt was none the better. Very tired and frustrated he looked around and finding both Shay and Gus asleep he knelt beside Matt and prayed to his maker with all the feeling of his heart, that Matt would be healed and that God would accept him as his servant. He prayed for forgiveness if he had violated any eternal laws and then paused for several minutes. Gus, who was awake and had been listening, opened one eye to discover why Jess had stopped. Seeing him still on his knees he closed his eye and waited for Jess to continue.

Emotionally, Jess sniffed and continued, "God, I came to you long ago and I was rejected. I was young and proud. I sought my will not thy will. I come to you now an older man and I fear I still have nothing to offer you that you might find valuable. I do not pray for myself, my brother has need of thee and I pray only for him. In exchange, I offer the only thing I possess as a beggar of your goodness, my broken heart."

Rising slowly, Jess placed his hand on Matt's forehead. His fever was getting worse, but rather than despair, Jess whispered, "Tell me what I must do."

In deep thought he went to the kitchen, opening every cupboard and drawer and after concocting something he returned with a bowl. He removed Matt's blood soaked bandage and with two fingers, dipped them into the bowl drawing out a dark green mixture and then made the sign of the cross above Matt in the air. He then forcefully thrust his fingers into the wound on Matt's arm, spreading the mixture liberally inside. Matt yelled out in pain as Jess tried to hold him down. Gus and Shay quickly rushed over to help. It took all three of them to hold him to the couch while he convulsed and yelled in pain. After a few minutes, Matt's body relaxed and his breathing became slower.

Just then, they heard the sound of movement in the back bedroom. They all looked at each other and knew it was Abdul coming too. Gus instructed Shay to stay with Matt while he and Jess went to see who was in the back bedroom, Abdul or the devil.

Jess held the cross in his hand that he had around his neck and proceeded down the hall. They crept into the back bedroom and timidly looked at Abdul still in the bed. Upon seeing them, Abdul jumped back and tried to get out of the bed on the other side but his strength was not sufficient to allow him to do so. Having seen Abdul at his worst last night, Gus knew that they were dealing with Abdul the senator and not Abdul the demon. Gus reassured Abdul that he need not be afraid and that if they were to do him harm they would not have waiting 'til morning. Abdul relaxed slightly but was still suspicious. Gus asked him if remembered how he got home last night. Abdul shook his head no.

"Do you remember anything about last night?" Again, Abdul shook his head.

"Do you know who we are?"

"Of course I do I'm no idiot," said Abdul angrily.

"Good, we're making some progress."

It was evident that Abdul was not in his right mind while taking his walks every night and that he was somehow being controlled. Controlled by Toprak they guessed.

"What do you want and why are you in my house?"

Gus found it incredibly odd that Abdul didn't wonder about his physical condition even though his speech was very nasal due to his injuries. Since Abdul didn't remember last night there was no reason to go into it. Besides, they might get more information out of him if he didn't know about the incident on the Ellipse.

"We happened to be at the Pavilion and saw that you were hurt and were in need of assistance. So we brought you here and have stayed with you this whole night."

"We?" said Abdul.

"Myself and Senator Erdem."

Gus leaned over and whispered in Jess's ear, "Get Matt out to the car and have Shay drive him to my place and tell them we will meet them there." Jess nodded and left the room leaving Gus and Abdul alone.

Gus turned to Abdul and said, "Now that Senator Erdem has agreed to leave us, let's talk about Toprak Esir, your employer. I want to know why they have you sitting in the U.S. Senate day in and day out."

"I don't have to tell you anything but since it don't matter anymore, I will just for the joy of it. There is nothing I have looked forward to more over the past two years than the opportunity of giving you bad news. My tenure in the Senate is over because I have accomplished what I was sent to do."

"And what was that?"

"To discover the beginning of course."

"The beginning of what?"

Abdul laughed, which sounded like a donkey with his busted face. "The beginning of when we had to start taking you stupid Americans seriously. We've been watching for these two years now and to be honest we thought you'd felt effects long before now. We've been waiting and planning for it since," Abdul paused, then responded in frustration, "A long time. It don't matter because the toprak esir is already ten years ahead of you." Gus was mentally trying as fast as he could to piece together the ramblings of Abdul but was coming up short.

"So why is it that you now take us stupid Americans seriously?"

"The Minimum has made you like us, well, not just like us but you're starting to figure it out."

"How so?" asked Gus, his eyes fixed on Abdul.

Abdul, frustrated and responding to Gus like he was a child said, "Like you and your pretty secretary yesterday trying to figure out why she's alive."

"How did you know about that? And how did you know about our conversation?"

Laughing in pure pleasure again Abdul proceeded to give Gus a lesson on the newest techniques of modern espionage. "I'm a harbinger. Everything that happens around me, Toprak knows. Well, at least after the herald."

Gus pulling on his short beard thought for a moment then said, "So just to be clear, everything that happens around you, you are then able to forward that information to Toprak?" Pausing and then putting the pieces together he continued, "And you herald the information to Toprak every night walking around the Ellipse."

Abdul just smiled in confirmation.

"So in the last two years, Toprak is aware of all of the doings of the U.S. Senate?"

"You have no idea Senator. We know everything."

"So that is also why you have this flat next door to the Masonic Lodge. You don't have to be present, just near."

Abdul snickered, "Now isn't that just the worst news you ever heard?" and broke out into laughter.

"So, let me get this straight one more time. Everything you absorb, doesn't get to Toprak until you herald it, correct? And the only place you can herald it from is the Ellipse?"

Breaking off from his laughter, Abdul nodded.

Gus calmly got up from sitting on the bed and walked around to the other side where Abdul was sitting against the headboard. "My dear Abdul, I have some very bad news for you." Abdul looked up at Gus as his smile began to fade. "Your herald last night was your last."

Gus grabbed Abdul by the throat, pressing him down into the mattress until he stopped struggling. Letting go he said quietly, "God forgive me."

"He does," said Jess.

Gus looked up toward the bedroom door and saw Shay and Matt–who was much recovered, standing behind Jess. "We couldn't leave you here alone with him so we eavesdropped in the hallway just in case you needed our assistance, but, you obviously have things under control."

Gus sighed, "In any other century that would be murder. Sadly in ours, Abdul is a casualty of war. He was much too dangerous to be left alive. Toprak already knows I can produce a miracle under the right circumstances and how our speech is being affected and heaven knows what else. What we couldn't afford is Toprak knowing the incidents of last night and how we witnessed their evil first hand or Matt's increased physical strength and most importantly Jess, your new calling with God. Abdul also didn't make his full rotation last night so we can only hope he didn't send the full report."

"What shall we do with the body sir?" asked Shay.

Gus turned back and looked at Abdul's abused lifeless body, "It doesn't matter what we do with it considering the world we now live in. I suspect in less than a year marshal law will be the rule. Besides, who is going to miss Abdul? What does the scripture say Jess, the devil does not support his own?"

"Indeed," said Jess.

Gus began to chuckle and looked at Jess, "You too huh?" and walked out the door.

"Me too what?", called Jess after Gus. 

# Chapter 4

Gus usually spent his Sunday mornings walking to the corner to buy a newspaper and then read it with a pot of black tea on his balcony. Gus was old school in a lot of ways, mostly in the way he viewed the world. He had a smart phone and knew how to use it but being English, there were some traditions he liked to keep and walking to get the morning paper was one of them.

In the news that morning, Gus read about another consumption breakout in Fort Hall, Idaho, a small Indian reservation near American Falls jointly owned by the Shoshone and Bannock Tribes. Consumption or tuberculosis as it was once called started to mutate at an accelerated rate back in 2020 as a direct result of antibiotic overuse. The disease was as deadly in 2040 if not more so than it was in the 18th and 19th centuries as it became immune to all modern medicines. The public started referring to the disease again as consumption since it more adequately described what the disease did to its victims.

At Fort Hall, thirty-seven were already dead with an estimated sixty-two infected. Since there was nothing that could be done, the tribal casino had been closed to the public as well as the Fort Hall freeway ramps. Medical personnel and the Red Cross attended to the community as best they could with protective gear and assisted in burying the dead.

Ten years ago, Gus's wife had succumbed to the disease and he sighed and turned the page. Just then Gus's phone began to vibrate on the glass tabletop and not recognizing the number, he answered officially, "Senator Guiscard."

"Gus, its Ted." Ted sounded upset but was obviously trying to keep his composure and Gus could tell he was also driving.

"Theodore, it's good to hear you. How are you this fine morning?" said Gus pleasantly, the black tea doing its magic.

Ted responded with a little more composure, relieved to hear Gus's voice, "A little shaken, do you have a few minutes?"

"Of course, of course—where can I meet you?"

Ted put his car in park and turned off the engine, "Your place, I just pulled up."

Ted didn't bother with the formalities of knocking. He just opened the door and ran up the stairs to Gus's kitchen area. Hearing the door, Gus got up and met Ted in the kitchen. Ted was out of breath and Gus directed him to sit and they both took a chair at the kitchen table as Gus told him to take his time.

Regaining his breath and a measure of composure Ted began to speak, "I got the DNA results from the lab this morning."

He paused and took a few more breaths while Gus interjected, "That was fast I would have guessed a week or more before you had any results."

"I went to a contact I had at the Bureau (FBI) and pulled a favor—all off the record of course."

"I don't need to ask what you found because I already know that the majority of that blood was Veronica's, but are you convinced?" Gus was looking at Ted over the top rim of his glasses with an expression that demanded a response.

Responding a little confused as if he had forgotten why he had the DNA test done in the first place Ted responded, "Huh? Oh, yes. You were right of course. The reason I am in such haste and torment is what happened at the lab." Gus narrowed his eyes a little wondering what could have possibly occurred in a secure facility like FBI Headquarters.

More relaxed now and with the composure Gus was used to seeing in Ted who was always collected and deliberate he continued, "It was while I was in the parking garage leaving, man and a woman approached me. I paid them no mind since I didn't know who they were and it appeared they were on their own business walking toward the building entrance. Just after they passed, without a word, one of them pushed me up against a car and held me down on the hood while the other searched my pockets. Oddly enough, they only took the carpet scrap with yours and Veronica's DNA on it."

Gus leaned back in his chair, pulled on his beard and didn't speak as he tried to think through the reasons anyone would so brazenly steal a scrap of carpet with his blood on it. After a few moments he responded with only, "Curious."

Ted was not expecting such a flat response from Gus, which made him feel like he needed to provide more information, "Not wanting to leave the carpet scrap in the lab I brought it out with me—that was so stupid! It would have been safer in the lab."

"No, you did the right thing. How could you have known someone else would have wanted it?" replied Gus, still leaning back in his chair trying to unravel the events, he looked at Ted's hair with narrowed eyes, "When were you going to tell me about that blood in your hair?"

Ted reached up with his hand the felt a lump that seemed to be growing larger by the minute, "Oh that, I guess it wasn't enough for them to just take what they wanted from me so they hit me over the head with something hard—a kind of insult and injury thing I guess. I was out for probably 10 minutes. I then got up and came directly here."

Gus leaned forward placing his elbows on the table, "Well, considering what has happened to us over the last 48 hours I'd say you are looking pretty good and lucky to be alive."

"Us—who and what are you talking about?" said Ted, confused and alarmed.

Gus, told Ted about his adventure with Abdul Faris in a matter-of-fact manner and when he finished he rather casually took a sip of his tea, "How terrible of me, can I fetch you some tea?" Ted just nodded as Gus walked out to the deck to retrieve the pot.

Talking louder so that Gus could hear him Ted wasn't sure how to respond to such a fantastic story. "So—wow, Abdul is dead and you killed him? I can't get my head around that and here you sit, reading your Sunday paper and sipping tea!"

Gus walked back in with the tea and poured Ted a cup and prepared it for him in the English tradition and calmly asked, "Sugar?"

"No—no thank you," said Ted.

"Ah, a man after my own heart. Sugar destroys the after taste, does it not?"

Frustrated at Gus's casual demeanor Ted shook his head, "I don't know, yeah—I guess."

Gus sat back down, took a deep breath and slowly let it go in the silence, "Don't mistake my calm tone this morning for a man who is at peace. I am eaten up on the inside with worry, fear and shame as if I had swallowed barbed wire. Ted, I've learned, that peace is something you find, it doesn't find you. The best thing for my reasoning skills today is to get back to the simple, daily pleasantries of life and let a layer of normalcy coat my tormented mind. I can scarcely believe what I have just told you myself. The problem we have at the moment is we need to act quickly but I scarcely know what to even do if anything can be done at all and that's the thing that troubles me the most."

Still wrapping his head around what Gus just told him Ted sipped his tea and they both looked out the deck doors onto a beautiful summer morning, neither of them speaking, both deep in thought. After several minutes without turning to look at Gus Ted said, "So what are we going to do?"

Gus also looking straight ahead and without breaking his stare responded, "I don't know."

They sat for some time not speaking but running through countless scenarios in their minds and endless 'what-ifs'. Gus then broke the silence and said resolutely, "One thing is clear. We need to get the Committee together. I also worry about Veronica after what you told me about the DNA sample. I can't figure who or why anyone would want that and what they could possibly do with it. I think we can rule out the FBI wanting it since they don't normally employ thugs."

"Yeah, and the Senate doesn't have demons either," said Ted flippantly. It was hard to remember the world was not as it appeared nor how they saw it only a week ago. The most frustrating part was wondering how long it had been different and how long they had been acting so ignorantly while their enemy played them for fools.

"One thing doesn't make sense," said Gus.

"Only one," said Ted half smiling.

"Well said—nothing makes much sense but one incident doesn't seem to fit into the chaos of all the others."

"And what is that?"

"Why kill me? Before that incident I was in ignorance for the most part about Toprak. Sure I knew they employed Abdul Faris and that they were guilty of espionage but since the assassination attempt, I have learned much more, almost as if," Gus paused and Ted raised his eyebrows in a gesture for Gus to continue, "As if they couldn't keep a secret any longer. Listening to Abdul sing and spill his guts you'd thought he was in a bloody Christmas pageant. He was delighted to tell me who he was, what he did and even how he did it."

"You were able to speak to Abdul before you–killed him? Holy hell Gus, I still can't believe you killed Abdul!"

"Yes, we had a brief conversation. I guess I left that part out. He mentioned that they were ten years ahead of us and that we would never catch up. We still don't fully understand who 'they' are but Toprak Esir Inc. is at the fore."

Being at an even greater loss than Gus, Ted offered, "Maybe your would-be assassination is not related to Toprak?"

"He has to be," said Gus, being a little short, "The guard who tried to kill me had a cell phone with the text code, same as Abdul."

Ted hesitated slightly, "Did you actually see the phone?"

Realizing he had made a gross assumption Gus slowly responded, "No I didn't and I was not allowed to see it either."

Ted felt like he was on to something, "When Homeland Security and the FBI showed up at your door last week did they show you their badges?"

"Yes, yes it was all very official. I had no reason to second guess them especially considering how ignorant I was a week ago." Gus leaned forward on the table with renewed energy, "So let's assume for a moment that my Homeland Security and FBI visitors were legit and that the shooter was connected to Toprak. What is the motivation to kill me?"

Remembering last week, Ted smiled, "Well, you gave a stirring speech last Friday but I hardly thought it worthy of killing you."

More information was desperately needed and Gus had an idea, "Do you think you could use your contact at the Bureau to get a positive ID on the shooter?"

"Probably, why?"

"Do you remember the reason we started to investigate Abdul Faris?" said Gus, leading Ted along his line of reasoning.

Ted wasn't sure where Gus was going but responded, "Sure, we suspected that he was a spy and worked for Toprak."

"Do you remember why we suspected that?"

Remembering Gus's incident in the stairwell and over hearing a conversation between Abdul and the security guard, Ted responded, "Ah! The stairwell conversation."

"Being so delirious from blood loss I didn't even think at the time to take a look at my killer to see if I could ID him, but I'll bet you a million GD's that he is the security guard I saw in the stairwell and that he was not there to kill me but to injure only. The reason I think that is because a dead man's DNA is of no worth. Whoever is behind this, and I still suspect Toprak, they needed it for something. I think poor Veronica was an unexpected casualty."

Ted was confused again with Gus's logic, "But why, and why you?"

"I'm not sure. Perhaps they know more about me than I do myself. Abdul kept going on that they knew everything and they were so far ahead of us."

"Surely there has to be an easier way to get a man's DNA in this world," said Ted. Then thinking deeper and more sinister Gus said, "Maybe they needed blood, not DNA. This Toprak is an evil lot. I can only image why they need blood, but an assassination attempt after my speech provided the perfect opportunity and the perfect motive and subsequent cover-up to pin it on a crazed security guard. No one would suspect a deeper plot." Gus sat back in his chair confident that he was on the right track.

Ted picked up his phone and dialed his contact at the FBI, "Are you still at the lab?" Ted asked his contact. "I have an awkward question and request. Do you have the appropriate security clearance to look at an open case file?" Gus was unable to hear the full conversation but from listening to Ted he could follow along well enough.

"Can you look up a case for me?" Ted gave the number and waited, "It doesn't exist? Are you sure?" Ted pushed mute and told Gus that there was no such case number. Gus thought for a minute. It did seem odd to him that the investigation had proceeded so rapidly and that on last Monday not even three days after the incident and over a weekend they acted as if the investigation was already concluded.

Having an epiphany Gus waved his hand, getting Ted's attention, "Ask her if there is a case with that number in the closed file."

Ted nodded, taking his contact off mute and said, "Check that same number in the closed files." They both sat in silence waiting then Ted nodded again and whispered to Gus, "It's there."

"Ask her if the death photo of the shooter has red hair and mild acne scars."

Ted nodded again after his contact responded, "Do you see anything in the file about a cell phone found at the scene?" asked Ted. He nodded in the affirmative to Gus. "Is there anything about the content of the text message? OK, that's all I needed. Thank you."

Putting his phone on the table Ted said, "So it appears we have a match on the security guard and the cell phone was apparently real and the text message really was 12345."

"Hmm, I had been assuming that 12345 was some kind of kill-switch thing. Apparently that is not the case," said Gus running into another dead end in his logic.

"Didn't you mention that Abdul got a 12345 text?" said Ted.

"Yes."

"And he was then in earnest to kill Matt?"

"Yeah you could say that," said Gus sarcastically and shaking his head in disbelief.

Ted was still trying to find the logic in their discussion and suggested, "Maybe the kill-switch was for Veronica not you. You were still only to be injured."

Gus was sick at the thought, "So as usual, things have turned out even better for Toprak since they now have both of our blood. I think you have it correct Ted."

"I'm not sure I do. Don't you think this is a little extreme for just a blood sample?" said Ted still in a state of shock and disbelief at what they all had experienced in the past 24 hours.

Gus laughed and responded, "Theodore, you have no idea what extreme is with these people. What happened to me was tame." Remembering the carnage on the Ellipse he added, "Very tame indeed."

Gus got up and cleared the tea off the table and told Ted, "Send out a text to the Committee to meet at the Library of Congress in an hour."

"Why the Library?" Ted questioned.

"We're going to need access to all the information we can to make sense of our new world and we'll have better security there than in any other place. We are wanted men now; we just don't know who wants us."

They both climbed into Gus's car and drove toward the Library of Congress. On the way, Gus called Veronica, "Veronica, how are you my dear?–So very glad to hear it. I need you to meet me and the Committee at the Library of Congress, it is very important you make haste and do not delay–Yes, sadly there is much wrong in the world at the moment and we do not have a moment to loose–See you soon."

Gus and Ted waited in the rotunda of the Library, a very grand and large room whose ceiling rose over five stories with ornate carvings and stained glass from another era, certainly a kinder and simpler time. Veronica arrived first being that her apartment was closest and coming into the rotunda Gus greeted her and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Theodore, I will take Veronica up to the room I have reserved and catch her up on the weekend events, come up with the rest after they arrive. If we don't see them all within the hour, call me." Ted nodded, finding it a little odd that Gus used his full name so frequently today.

Gus and Veronica walked up a grand white marble staircase that lead to second floor meeting rooms reserved for senate members and their staffs. Closing the heavy oak doors, there was a feeling of safety but Gus knew very well it was only an illusion.

Gus began cautiously and provided a preface to what he was about to say, "Veronica, our world has changed in the last week. You are aware of some of those changes but they were only the beginning I'm afraid and as odd as it may sound, they were pleasant compared to what I am about to tell you."

Gus related for the third time the events of the weekend, growing weary of telling the story. At the conclusion, Gus added the conversation and discoveries he and Theodore had had that morning about the shooting and the reasons behind it. She sat in silence staring at Gus in unbelief as if she was frozen. Gus patted her hand several times and apologized for the weight he had just dropped on her, "You look like you could use some water."

Gus left the room and returned with several water bottles and opened one for Veronica. Veronica took several slow swallows then looked down at the table in a distant stare. Gus wished he could have retracted what he had just said and perhaps relate it with more care, "Oh my dear, I so wish this burden hadn't come to you, we all seemed to have drawn the shortest lot in all this for reasons I do not know and at least for the time being, we bare it alone I'm afraid."

Veronica slowly turned to look at Gus and asked him poignantly, "Have you told me everything?"

"I may have missed a few details but nothing important I assure you. I have told the story enough times in the past two days I could recite it from a stage."

Veronica's demeanor was sharpening and Gus could feel her confidence grow as she spoke, "I will not be seen as fragile in all this, do you understand how I mean?"

Gus was taken aback by her resolve and he cocked his head slightly and looked at her with narrowed eyes as she continued, "My bed is made alongside yours and our Committee and I will sleep in it. I have already tasted death and there is no fear or bitterness in it for me." Thinking deeper and slightly smiling confidently she said, "Toprak or any evil cannot threaten me with death; their greatest threat is void in me."

Gus put his hand to his lips and rubbed them slowly as if to ease words from his mouth but nothing came. Veronica's resolve was more than just the after effects of dying although the experience must have had a profound effect on her in ways that Gus would probably never know. He noticed that her very countenance and disposition had changed which also seemed to be more than the effect of the Hmman spirit rising to the occasion. Difficult circumstances throughout history had always made people stronger and more determined but Veronica's newly found strength was more than that. Her inner strength and moral resolve somehow seemed to be what Gus could only label as noble; deeply rooted in honor, duty and iron will rising up from the wellsprings of a pure soul.

Veronica sat confidently unafraid of what the effect of her words might have on Gus. She had never referred to the Committee as if she were a part of it. She had always been more of an appendage to Gus and the Committee in a supportive role, but in that moment Veronica welded her fate with theirs. Just then, there was a knock at the door and Gus smiled at Veronica affectionately and said, "Welcome to the Committee my dear."

As the rest of the Committee shuffled in, they were all very sober and few words were spoken between them, only polite greetings were uttered to Gus and Veronica. They all sat and looked at Gus for direction being overwhelmed with such decisions on their own. There was a darkness to the day that Gus had been trying to shake since he had awoken and everyone seems to be under the same spell. Surprising everyone, Veronica was the first to speak as she looked around the table at the Committee, "So, shall we begin or shall we commiserate in silence a while longer?"

Jess gave Gus a stern look and said, "Have you not told her?" assuming that her usual cheerful and charming disposition was spoken in ignorance. Gus laughed slightly, "I just finished briefing her of all the events even some new developments that you are not even aware of." The Committee all looked at Veronica but said nothing.

"Right," said Gus taking lead of the meeting as he always did. "I don't suppose I need to explain why we are here. However, what is not evident is where we should begin. Perhaps we should get everyone on the same page with this morning's events."

Gus related to Matt and Shay the experience Ted had at the FBI that morning and how the carpet sample was stolen, but before he could delve into their theory about his assassination attempt, Ted interrupted him. "Excuse me sir, but I have been thinking and I still think we are incorrect."

"Oh? Go on then," said Gus, a little surprised.

"Whenever something just doesn't add up and logic defies reason, it usually means you are missing critical information. Last week while you were out, the Speaker held a special session as you are now aware. It was terribly ill-attended with probably only 20 percent of the Senate showing. The Speaker was on fire and pretty much accused any senator not in attendance of treason."

"Oh!" said Gus taking a seat at the head of the long hardwood table.

"My point is," continued Ted, "it's no secret that you and the Speaker were not on the best of terms and if your wake-up call lit a fire under him, what effect did it have on the enemies of the United States?"

"Ah, Ted has a valid point," said Matt. "On your way out of the hall when the Speaker applauded you, you should have seen the mix of emotion in the room; everything from un-moved to, well – if looks could kill."

"Looks almost did kill," said Shay.

Gus resumed his lead of the conversation, "Gentlemen and" nodding to Veronica, "lady, it is no secret and we don't have to be politically correct in here, but there is a plot to over throw this country and it has been in play a great many years. I also don't have to tell you that the Senate is overrun not only with our enemies but also ignorant, self-serving opportunists who vote with the party that benefits them most personally. I don't suppose I have to tell you our numbers very few."

Ted, returning to his earlier statement said, "My point is, I believe your speech _was_ the reason you were nearly assassinated because of the effect it had on the Speaker, a known enemy, and our political enemies could not risk you awaking any more supporters, not after they had worked so hard to get where they are. After your heroics with Veronica," Veronica blushed slightly and smiled, "you became of greater interest to Toprak Esir and _that_ is why they stole your blood sample. What they plan to do with it the devil only knows, but I would bet it is a fate worse than death."

Gus nodded several times as he thought through the logic and said, "Yes, I do believe you are right Ted. Does anyone have anything else to add or take away from Ted's reasoning?"

"Only that we need to be careful we don't think of Toprak Esir and our political enemies as separate bodies. I think the evidence is overwhelming that they are one in the same," said Jess. "If there is a distinction it is only that the political hand is rather slower-moving and perhaps even passive while the Toprak hand is aggressive, but they are none the less two hands of the same beast."

"Very well said Jess, I'm sure you are right," said Ted as everyone agreed.

"The evidence to support what you say is manifest in the fact that both the security guard and Abdul got the same obscure text message sometime before they were, shall we say, activated," said Gus.

"Speaking of which," said Shay, "I don't suppose it matters much now what the code means in and of itself since we now know what it does to those who receive it."

Gus resumed a mentor role and directed his words at Shay, "Perhaps right here and right now that might be true my dear Shay; however, there is great power that comes from knowing the mind of your enemy."

Gus got up and walked around to the front of the room, leaned over and placed his hands on the table looking intently at the Committee, "We are in unfamiliar waters." He paused, waiting till the weight and the importance of understanding the concept sunk in. "This morning it became obvious to me that our enemies are not plainly visible to us and they have been working on our demise for quite some time. I would guess since at least 2030 maybe even before. They are extremely patient and willing to sacrifice anything to accomplish their goal."

"And what goal is that?" asked Shay, wondering how Gus could know their goals when the whole group still knew so little.

Gus sighed in a somewhat defeated tone, but then said clearly, "World domination."

Ted snickered slightly and said, "The goal of every villain and every bad guy. All we need is a superhero."

Without speaking, Gus walked over to the whiteboard and wrote Toprak Esir and then wrote the English translation, World Captive and then turned to the Committee. "When we first heard of Toprak I was aware of the translation of Toprak to mean 'world' but sadly, not being familiar with the word 'Esir' I assumed it had something to do with real estate since that was their business, at least publicly. When speaking with Abdul, he referred to Toprak as The Toprak Esir. I found it rather curious so I looked up the translation this morning. What Abdul was referring to was indeed, 'The World Captive' or 'The Captive World' and it has begun."

"Right in front of our faces!" said Matt, irritably.

Gus underlined the words on the board as he considered what Matt had said, "I think we will see that more and more from here on out, that our enemy has been parading in plain sight for over 10 years. The republic of the United States, at the urgings of the enemy has imposed a self-inflicted gag-order of political correctness and the public ignorantly assumes that nothing so sinister could ever happen in the good ol' U.S. of A."

Just then, all of the senator's phones received a text message as all of the phones in the room except Veronicas made their individual message tones and everyone reached to see what it was. Reading the text, everyone stared in amazement and then looked at Gus, "It really has begun then and our enemy is becoming less transparent and publicly aggressive," said Gus, then for Veronica's sake he read the text aloud. "U.S. Senate official business. The Speaker privately resigned on Wednesday of last week for reasons he would not disclose. He is now the subject of a missing person's investigation. The DHS (Department of Homeland Security) has raised the Threat Advisory. All official persons should take precautions to secure themselves, staffs and families until further notice."

Gus sat back down at the table and stared at his phone for a minute then took the out battery and set them both on the table, "Our enemies could be anywhere and their reach is alarming. We best not communicate with technology if we are to win this." All the other Senators and Veronica did the same with their phones.

Gus began slowly but with resolve, "Our time is short and we have much to learn, but I'm afraid our school bell rang 10 years ago and we were not in attendance. I think it obvious that the numbers 1 through 5 have some meaning. One thing I have been thinking about is the five-point star. I know they are everywhere and that they all don't have meaning beyond a pretty decoration. However, I find it very curious that if you trace the roads north of the White House you can make out a five-point star that is inverted with the White House at the beginning and end-point. I loathe sounding like a crazed conspiracy theorist and I would not even be bringing it up now if Abdul had not chosen the Ellipse at the bottom of an inverted five-point start to herald. I do not believe for a second that the city architects designed the streets of Washington according to some evil design, however I do believe the devil uses anything and everything he can including even the Bible to further his work. Since the star was there, somehow they are able to use it for their purpose."

Jess rubbed his eyes, clearly tired and in disbelief that they were about to launch into a discussion about devil worship, "An inverted five-point star is one of the main signs of satanism and all the other like occults. It has been their symbol for centuries, but to believe that the devil himself is behind this? I just don't know."

Matt laughed, scoffing "You might change your mind if you saw Abdul at his worst the other night. He was scarcely Hmman."

"It does all seem bizarre and frankly, our enemy is counting on us to sit on our hands with our eyes closed and our mouths shut until it is too late. Gone are the days when Americans opened their mouths when they saw or heard something that was not right. We have already been beaten into submission," said Gus while shaking his head.

In an effort to keep things progressing, Ted began throwing out all the things he knew about the number five and all possible meanings. "The Olympic Games logo has five circles, it's the number of cards in a poker hand, most all reptiles have five fingers and toes, Roman numeral V is the symbol for Jupiter, and there are five books of Moses..."

Interrupting Gus said, "Let's go that direction, in the direction of religion. Something about faith, miracles and pure evil fits this situation I should think," he added a little sarcastically.

"OK, let's see; the Torah also contains five books, Muslims pray five times a day and there are five pillars of Islam."

Raising his hand to stop Ted, Gus asked Jess, after he saw an enlightened look on his face, "What is it?"

"Maybe nothing but, your comment about the devil being able to use anything here on this planet for his evil designs got me thinking about the Bible."

"And?" said Gus.

"Well, the only symbol or meaning for the number five in Christianity that I'm aware of is the five wounds of Christ, the wounds that killed him. Many Christian symbols that employ the five pointed star are centered on the five wounds." Everyone was silent and in deep thought as Jess added, "I don't know much about the devil but what I do know is that it is seldom enough for evil to just carry-out their evil plans."

"How do you mean?" asked Veronica, puzzled.

"Well, take for example the Babylonian invasion and subsequent sack of Jerusalem. The city was impregnable so the Babylonians put the city under siege until there was no food left, not even a single blade of grass. Anything that could be prudently eaten had been. There was at least one woman who killed her own child and then proceeded to roast it over a fire when she was discovered."

"Oh, how horrible!" cried Veronica.

"But, here is my point; shortly after the city surrendered—SURRENDERED mind you–it wasn't enough for evil to just carry out their goal and take possession of the city. They had to inflict insult not just injury upon the Jews. They did this by killing any priest they could find by public Hmmiliation and they looted Solomon's Temple and burned it for no other purpose than to Hmmiliate, desecrate and spit upon their God. That is what evil is and that is what evil does."

The room was silent. After a few moments Gus concluded the discussion, "As much as we are all reluctant to do so, we must agree that we are dealing with evil, as evil as anything I have experienced in 70 years and I think we've found the meaning to 12345. Using something as sacred as the five wounds of Christ for the kill order is the perfect insult to Christians and inverting the five-point start that is used as a symbol for good the world over is the other." No one responded and Gus continued, "Well, now we know a little bit more what we are dealing with. We may not know what their next move is but we do know they will go out of their way to inflict insult to whatever injury they have planned and we can use that to our advantage." Gus paused letting the words sink in.

Sitting up in his chair, Gus changed the subject. "I know it is getting late but before we leave I want to bring up the other curious thing Abdul said. When asking him why Toprak had to start taking American's seriously he said it was because of the Minimum."

"The Minimum?" asked Ted, confused.

"The solar minimum?" asked Veronica as all eyes turned to her.

# Chapter 5

Horsa walked across the courtyard in the early morning before the sun had risen with a critical report on his lips. There was a light mist lying on the grass promenade leading up the old administration building of the now defunct Belarusian University in Minsk, Belarus. The University was founded in 1920 but in 2036, the school found itself in financial trouble as many tech schools did in the thirties. Toprak was seen as the school's financial savior when they purchased the University in the same year. However, by 2037, the University was officially closed and Toprak turned the school into a type of private research facility and used the location for its corporate operations.

Belarus was a rather forgotten country about two-thirds the size of Poland, its immediate western neighbor. It was also surrounded by the Ukraine, Lithuania and Russia. In 2029 Russia had again exercised its military superiority in the East for the first time since the collapse of the USSR by invading several countries. The Russian Republic that was established in the early 1990's had deteriorated to the point that it was now functioning more like the old Imperial Russia than a liberated republic. Russia had grown increasingly tired of the terrorist activities originating from the Islamic countries to the south so in a commanding and destructive march to India, Russia captured control of Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan, Afghanistan and Pakistan, stopping at the Indian border. In the fashion of old-time warfare, Russia displaced all the peoples of the invaded countries that were not destroyed and scattered them in the interior of Mother Russia. They then relocated loyal Russians into the vacated counties and rewarded distinguished officers of the military with governorships and large tracts of land. Due to the West's issues with Afghanistan and Pakistan during the Desert Wars in the early part of the century, they did nothing but watch, happy to have someone else do what they couldn't or dared not do, which was destroy nuisance countries. It was the largest invasion and military enterprise since the 1940's when Hitler marched across Europe except this time, the world just watched it evolve on the Transnet.

Reaching the century-old building, Horsa walked across the Masonic-style checkered floor and up a white marble staircase to the office of his brother Hengist. Hengist had his living quarters attached to his office since his work was unpredictable and long and he was often found sleeping at his desk. Horsa knocked only twice and then walked in. The office was empty and quiet, and there was a half-full bottle of Bulbash Vodka on his desk with two empty glasses. It appeared Hengist had had company the night before and there was a very good chance the company was still in his bed. Horsa opened the blinds in his brother's office, poured himself a glass of Bulbash and got comfortable on the leather sofa.

Lying on the couch, Horsa looked across the room at his brother's desk and read his name plate, Başkan Genel (president general). He thought back how far they had come in the past 13 years and everything that had happened to him and his brother since they left their home in Germany to try and capitalize on the Turkey boron rush. Boron had become scarce in the past decade and thus commanded very inflated prices. Then as now, boron was only found in natural form in Turkey and the United States, but the Turkey mines were being opened almost daily and were being strip-mined. While having a devastating effect on the environment it made mining safe and easy.

The two brothers, like the 49ers in California 200 years before them quickly realized that the dreams of wealth in the mines were just a dream. However, being determined and resolute souls, they found other means of generating wealth by working for other mines and skimming a portion of the mineral for their own profit. When their operation was discovered, they killed a foreman and buried his body in the tailings and fled the country; volunteering as soldiers of fortune in Russia. Fighting seemed to be in their blood and they not only proved to be very good at it, they also loved their new profession. The Frankish and Germanic peoples had a long history of being soldiers for hire in various foreign wars throughout history, the American Revolution being one of them. The Russian expansion of 2029–2034 was unpopular with the Russian general public and therefore foreign nationals were welcomed into the military in exchange for pay and spoils for valor.

They entered the Russian Army both as efreitors (privates) but rose quickly through the ranks in the first two years of the war due to extraordinary valor, which was just another name for raw barbarianism. The brothers were affectionately referred to on the battle field as kan kardeşler (brothers of blood) and men flocked to their regiments since they rarely lost a battle and were known for leaving few alive. On several occasions when they felt a particular conflict had ended too soon they would wade through the dead and wounded and bayonet the bodies seemingly for no other reason than to just do it all again.

Hengist was raised to the rank of Polkovnik (Colonel) in 2031 and Horsa was his right hand at the rank of Mauop (Major). In these positions of power they burned through thousands of miles of territory leaving a trail of not just death but pure carnage in their wake. By the time their march reached Bayramaly in Turkmenistan, approximately half way to India, their reputation began to go before them. Whole cities surrendered at their approach since it was known that any opposition was met with decisive destruction of all living things whether it be man, woman, child or animal. On at least one occasion, after taking a bullet in the thigh during a battle in Uzbekistan, Horsa had a herd of 300 sheep butchered and left them to rot in the sun. The Kremlin publicly denounced the two German brothers but secretly rewarded them with promises of land and governorships after the war.

Hengist was the brains of the partnership and Horsa was certainly the brawn. Horsa was nearly seven feet, over 300 pounds and preferred hand to hand combat when he had a choice; not just because the scale was always heavily in his favor, but he loved the intimacy of death and executing it under his own hand.

After the war, the Kremlin couldn't award favor upon Hengist and Horsa publicly after they had denounced them throughout the war to the world, so they held a mock war trial and had them condemned to hang for crimes against Hmmanity. The Kremlin hung two unknown war prisoners in their stead and then helped Hengist and Horsa set up a corporation in Turkey to whom they awarded 350,000 square miles of land and cities in the new Russian territory of Turkmenistan, which included nearly all of the former country of Turkmenistan. The Kremlin used the mock corporation as a global public relations ploy to show that they encouraged peaceful Islamic settlements and that the Turkish Toprak Esir Corporation would help ensure their cultivation.

In the following two years, Hengist and Horsa turned a territory with a gross domestic product of just over 31 billion GD into a staggering 100 billion. From there, they began a global enterprise of real estate brokering, buying, selling and strong-arming small governments; which also lead to the financial ruin and seemingly peaceful takeover of Praia. At that time they also purchased the defunct University in Belarus and moved their center of operations there.

The Belarusian University was enclosed within high wrought iron gates which lent itself very well to a secret operation and made it easy to guard. The Belarus government granted Toprak special don't ask, don't tell favors at the pressure of the Russian government. Within their highly secure campus, Toprak conducted many different research projects all of which were completely unknown to the world. The Corporation itself was also very secret with an incredibly loyal Hmman organization–ex-employees were non-existent. When someone went to work for Toprak Esir, it was understood that it would be a lifetime assignment but with excellent wages and benefits. While no ex-employees could ever be found, there was a body trail that was staggering, all of which could not be directly traced to the Corporation, of course.

With a pleased smile on his face, Horsa's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door opening and followed by an exhausted groan as his brother entered the room.

Wiping the sleep from his eyes and enjoying a full stretch, Hengist yawned, "Am I going to pleased or pissed?"

"I guess that depends on how much vodka you had last night and how good she was," laughed Horsa swinging his legs off the couch and sitting up to face Hengist.

Shaking his head remembering his stressful late night meeting Hengist replied, "Well, I don't think I had enough and she was terrible considering my meeting last night was with Aldegund. We were discussing the Algerian project."

The Algerian project seemed to be riddled with complications and Horsa thought better of it than to ask about details. Aldegund had been with Toprak since the beginning and acted as an emissary for special projects, though his job description was obscure at best to outsiders.

"So, what brings you out of your cave at this unnatural hour?"

"I have some news from Washington," replied Horsa sounding somewhat anxious to share.

"We always have news from Washington, every 24 hours we have boring news from Washington. So I'm assuming this is special, boring news?" said Hengist as he poured himself a glass of the remaining vodka and yawning again.

"Abdul is dead," said Horsa delivering the message proudly.

Hengist set his glass on his desk and turned to face Horsa, "So, I am going to be pleased it appears."

"Very pleased, my lord," Horsa said laughing.

Abdul's death could only mean one thing and that was the Minimum was finally affecting the rest of the world which meant Toprak could proceed with their plans in haste.

Ever since his brother's rise to Polkovnik he paid him greater respect but his word choice today was even more formal than normal. Hengist leaned on his desk and rubbed his hands to his face, thinking through the implications of the news, "Can we assume that it has happened then?"

"I believe so."

"Do we have any details?" It was clear Hengist was suspect and knew there was more to the story than what his brother was telling.

Horsa leaned back on the couch and put his hands behind his head and continued, "Abdul was interrupted during his herald on Friday night and before I lost contact I was able to discern the presence of two of the senators who were investigating Abdul. So," Horsa paused trying to contain a large smile that was coming to his face, "I sent the pentacode."

Hengist started shaking his head in playful disbelief, "Damn-it Horsa, two in less than a week? You are such a liability, but—a funny one I must add," as he broke out into laugher, "What happened next?"

Laughing, Horsa continued, "Oh, I pounced on Matthew Hector like a hyena and took a mouthful of flesh from his right arm!" now laughing even louder like a child.

"That's a little sick even for you."

"I know, I know, but here's the best part. That Jap Shay Naoki tried to push me off and I spit Matthew's flesh at him."

Responding somewhat disgusted but Hmmored all the same, Hengist said, "Awesome. So, I'm guessing this isn't where Abdul got put out of his misery, I can't imagine you let Matthew over power you?"

Horsa stopped laughing and became more sober, got up, walked to the window and continued with his back to Hengist, "Matthew didn't kill Abdul–I don't know who did." He then took a long drink of his vodka and continued. "I'm sure Matthew Hector is a corpse right now after a bite like that."

"Well, how did it end?"

"I'm not sure I was dispelled," said Horsa with contempt in his voice.

Hengist was now very confused, "What, how?"

Horsa sat down on the couch again, setting his glass on the floor and placing his elbows on his knees, "Leroy Guiscard."

Hengist thought for several moments then replied slowly, "Well, well, well, Leroy Guiscard, the old bastard. Who would have thought? Although it makes sense since he is an Englishman."

More sober still, Horsa responded, "There's more. That Veronica, Leroy's secretary that took a bullet through her head?"

"Yes."

"She's alive."

Hengist responded very slowly, "What?"

"Abdul was only able to get me a partial herald before he was interrupted and then subsequently beat unconscious by Matthew—but I was able to learn that Leroy performed a reanimation on her. He was very unaware of how he did it to be sure, but he did it all the same."

Hengist now overwhelmingly disgusted responded, "So I am to be both pleased and pissed today," as he sat down next to Horsa on the couch. They both sat in silence as Hengist worked through the implications of the probability of having a full-blooded Anglo-Saxon in their way.

Anglo-Saxons were an ancient and very noble race renowned for unsurpassed strength both physical and mental. Physiologists considered them one of the five original noble races of the earth. The Anglo-Saxons were the first recorded pirates in the world and were successful everywhere they landed. They invaded England in the 5th century and took possession of the entire island in time, never to loose possession of it to the present day. Their intelligence, courage, size and strength combined with their cool and calculating sagacity allowed them to be distinguished as the only unconquered race on the planet. They were also a people of unwavering and ridged moral convictions. The story is told of an Anglo-Saxon woman who violated her marriage vows and was compelled to hang herself and her body was then burned in public. The accomplice to her crime was then executed over the ashes. The whole nation of Anglo-Saxons for centuries manifested an unbending will. Even their females evinced the same strength and courage demonstrating that Anglo-Saxon blood lost nothing by flowing through female veins.

Hengist, hoping for a better outcome to the incident suggested, "Perhaps Western medicine was able to revive Veronica Paige and Leroy just thought he did it?"

"I had thought of that. Part of the herald I got from Abdul also contained a bit about Leroy wanting Theodore Schuyler to get a scrap of the carpet that had both Veronica's and Leroy's blood on it analyzed for DNA for some reason. So I had the carpet intercepted, it will be here today," Horsa said with satisfaction.

Hengist turned to Horsa and roughly grabbing his head, kissed it, "A warrior with strategy on his mind and not just blood." Horsa smiled inwardly grateful for the complement.

Hengist got up and walked to his desk. There was no computer on it that might have been typical in all businesses in the world—not that it was readily recognizable with the computer turned off. The computer monitor or screen had been done away with ten years ago and replaced with a holographic workspace where all office functions were manipulated in a virtual three-dimensional space.

Hengist opened his desk drawer and took out of piece of company stationary and began writing an official executive order. "I want you to issue another harbinger to Washington without delay. We need eyes and ears there now more than ever. Have them tail that damned Committee of Leroy's around the clock, as far as I am concerned the rest of the goings on the U.S. Senate are meaningless now."

"What about the Masonic Lodge my lord?"

Hengist looked up from his writing, "I'm not sure where the _my lord_ is coming from you today, but I must say I like it." He smiled at him, continued his writing and then responded to his question, "No, we can forget about the Masons I think for now. In the two years Abdul has been trailing them I've not heard anything remotely worthy of our attention. It only appears to be a wealthy gentleman's club without drinking or dancers," Shaking his head he concluded, "What a waste of an evening."

Hengist folded up the executive order and handed it to Horsa, "I'm glad you came by, I needed to talk to you about Van and Algeria before you left on your tour." Horsa got up to take the order from Hengist's out-stretched hand and then sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

"According to Abdul and Abednego's last few heralds it appears we have been very successful in our troop migration into Van. The world saw it all as a refugee migration as we had hoped."

Abednego was a harbinger assigned to the United Nations whose heralds were not as frequent as Abdul's since he was 230 miles away from the Ellipse in Washington. "With the migration nearly complete, let's reassign the disruption forces to Algeria. You can affect the changes when you arrive in Tabriz and send an emissary to Mosul with the same reassignment."

Just over two years ago, Toprak had deployed a skilled military taskforce made to look like a group of marauding warlords to Tabriz and Mosul to harass, pillage, and kill as necessary the local populations in an effort to cause mass migration into the seeming safety of Turkey. Toprak used its political favors in Turkey to allow the migration by supplying weapons to the government in exchange. Toprak had warehouses full of weapons left over from the Russian war and in the Middle East weapons were the most valuable currency. In the process of the refugee migration, Toprak was moving military personnel that were loyal to them from the new Russian territories across Iran and into Turkey. The ruse worked according to their design without incident since the governments of Iran and Iraq were preoccupied with their own war plans with Western Europe. Besides, rogue warlord movement was not uncommon in either country. Over the past two years, Toprak had deployed over 160,000 troops to Turkey. What was even more Hmmorous to Hengist and Horsa was that the United Nations had sent hundreds of tons of supplies to Van to sustain the refugees, ignorant to the true fact that they were feeding an army that was about to invade Europe. In an act of good world citizenship, Toprak Esir also sent several hundred tons of supplies to Van containing within the food stuffs, small arms and other military supplies all under the noses of an ignorant world public.

Hengist wrote another executive order about the reassignment of the displacement forces and handed it to Horsa, "As for Algeria," he said with a heavy sigh, "Aldegund has informed me that Algiers is withdrawing from the bargaining table."

"That's odd; I've not heard anything remotely close to that from any harbinger in Algeria," Horsa responded with suspicion.

"That was what I wanted to confirm with you. Aldegund has just returned from Algiers and claims that the Décideurs Council has agreed to not move forward with our financial support. He also claims that the last three council meetings were held at a secret location where he was drugged to and from the location."

"I find that very suspect my lord," said Horsa shaking his head.

"As do I, although if that is correct, the harbinger would not have known the outcome of the meetings," said Hengist sliding back in his chair.

Toprak did not use any communication technologies as the rest of the world so freely did. They knew how easily it was intercepted and routinely captured by all world governments and the absence of it allowed them to expand and develop their plans completely unnoticed. The problem with not using technology was the need for trust. In situations such as these, Hengist couldn't call Algiers to confirm Aldegund's claims.

Algeria accepting their financial support was a critical piece of their plan since they sought to do to Algeria what they had already done to Praia; bankrupt the currency and establish their own government as the solution to the crisis. If Aldegund's claims were true, this would complicate things when Toprak disruption forces showed up as they were scheduled to do in a months' time as they were reassigned from Iran and Iraq. Toprak needed Algerian participation since they desperately needed to deploy troops into Morocco under the guise of refugees just as they had done in Van.

"Is anyone on the Council fond of Aldegund?" asked Horsa working through a strategy in his mind.

Hengist thought for a moment, "I believe he has some supporters. He has been Emissary for almost two years now—why?"

"Based upon the heralds, if what Aldegund is telling us is true, and the opposition is coming from the Council of the Nation, we may have some reverse leverage we can use."

The Council of the Nation was similar to the House of Representatives in the United States except they were almost always at odds with the Décideurs Council, which was where the true power of the Algerian government resided. Nothing in the heralds from the Council meetings suggested any reservation about accepting Toprak support but The Council of the Nation secretly opposed it.

"I'm willing to bet a life that if Aldegund were to be harmed by let's say, the Council of the Nation, it may just secure the Décideurs Council in our favor and make them decide they need more power over the Council of the Nation in a way that only financial support can do."

Hengist laughed slightly and remarked, "And the life you are betting is Aldegund's."

Horsa smiled.

"Well, I'm sure you have much to do before you deploy tomorrow morning, I will look forward to your report when you return."

Horsa nodded in agreement and got up to leave. Hengist called out to him just as he was walking out the door and turning around, Hengist said nothing but held up a hand with all five fingers extended. Horsa nodded in agreement and left the building.

Coming to the courtyard, Horsa saw Aldegund approaching on his way to see Hengist no doubt. As they approached one another, Horsa extended his hand in fellowship and as Aldegund was about to do the same. Horsa turned his open hand into a fist and thrust it into Aldegund's chest, breaking every rib his large fist touched. Aldegund could not cry out since his chest cavity had collapsed and he could not draw a breath. Horsa held him close in a very tight embrace with his fist still pushing into his lungs, not allowing them to fill with air and Aldegund suffocated quickly. Horsa kissed his forehead and dropped his lifeless body in the courtyard where he stood and walked toward his living quarters to prepare for his deployment. As he walked he chuckled to himself, "Negotiation is easy."

Hengist watched Horsa from his office window which overlooked the courtyard as he smiled and shook his head in amazement at his brother's morbid talent for death. Just then he heard his assistant Caleb entering the room behind him and without breaking his stare and with no emotion said, "We need a clean-up in the courtyard and a shipping box."

"Yes my lord," responded Caleb, who knew better than to ask for details.

Thirty minutes later Caleb returned with the shipping documents, "Who shall be the consignee my lord?"

"This is a special gift for the Décideurs Council in Algiers, but before you seal the container, place this document inside," he said handing him a folded letter.

"Of course my lord, and whom shall I make the consignor?"

"Send the container by Toprak courier to Izmir then by common carrier to Algiers consigned by The Council of the Nation of Algeria."

Caleb confirmed his understanding with a simple nod and began collecting his papers.

As he did, Hengist was still thinking through his plan and remembering an important element he had forgotten said, "Oh, and one more thing," Hengist paused, thinking through his plan one more time.

Caleb stopped what he was doing and directed his full attention to Hengist, "My lord?"

Responding confidently that his plan would work Hengist said, "Cut off Algegund's tongue and feed it to the dogs."

His assistant, while not completely surprised, responded uncomfortably, "Um, yes—Yes my lord, as you wish—of course."

Returning to the courtyard, Caleb affixed the proper labels to the carton and before closing the lid took out a pocketknife from his front pocket. With knife in hand, he stood looking at the corpse that was once a well-known employee of the company and nervously considered what he had to do. From the courtyard, he could see the front gates and noticed that a small parcel delivery was being made by an overnight courier. Warin, the captain of the guard had signed for the package and took it in hand, walking quickly toward him. Before Caleb knew it, Warin was passing him and the carton. Warin looked at Caleb and smiled then curiously walked over to see what was inside and perhaps discover why Caleb was looking so grey.

Seeing Aldegund gave him a start and he gravely looked at Caleb for an explanation but dared not ask for one. At Toprak Esir, there were many rules but perhaps the most important rule was if you didn't know, you didn't need to know it. This simple rule kept every level of the organization functioning with exacting order and precision. Warin then saw Caleb's small pocketknife with the blade extended and desiring to lighten Caleb's grey complexion he said, "I believe he is already dead young Caleb, you don't need to worry about him getting out."

Caleb smiled slightly, "I—um—need to, cut off its tongue." Referring to the corpse as an _it_ was Caleb's way of de-Hmmanizing the hateful thing so that he could do his bidding.

Warin was a warrior and was not a stranger to bloodshed and bodily desecration. He had fought alongside Horsa for about half of the Russian war, the bloodiest half, but this corpse was of one of their own and it was different than mutilating the body of your enemy. Looking again at Caleb's vehement hesitancy to cut out a dead man's tongue, Warin stepped forward in an act of endearment towards Caleb, took out his seven inch blade and reached into the carton. Taking the corpse by the mouth and forcing it open, he grabbed hold of the semi-dried tongue, pulled it out as far as he could and sliced it off. The corpse fell back into the carton and made a muffled choking sound as air escaped through its mouth. Caleb was stunned and stood looking at the corpse as if he were a statue. Warin laughed. He put his blade back into its sheath, grabbed Caleb's hand, put the souvenir in it then walked away.

Warin, upon reaching Horsa's door, straightened his uniform and ran his dirty fingers through his unkempt hair, which had little to no effect on improvement. He then respectfully knocked. Waiting for Horsa, he looked at the package again and read the words, "IMMEDIATE PRIVATE ATTENTION: HORSA" hastily written in bold letters. As the door opened, Warin stood at attention and saluted. Horsa was not a man of formality when it came to the way he treated his inferior officers, however he demanded it from them. Upon seeing Warin at attention he said, "Relax Warin, what have we got?" Warin handed him the parcel with a simple, "Sir." Horsa was delighted to see the carpet sample arrive on time, but he said nothing to Warin and shut the door.

Horsa took the carpet scrap immediately down to Moran, the Progeniture Proctor in one of the many labs on the Toprak Campus. Moran's job description at Toprak was to unravel the convoluted scribble of Hmman genealogy; a study Hengist and Horsa became very interested in during the early years of the Russian war for reasons they never had disclosed to Moran. He spent his days researching some of the oldest documents on earth and running blood tests on ancient Hmman fragments. His lab was housed in an old lecture hall with three story ceilings which were nearly all covered with the genealogy of the Hmman family. The hall was sectioned off in to five main groups with thousands of strings crisscrossing and inter-connecting civilizations, groups and individuals in a dizzying progeniture of noble races. Computerization would have made Moran's task much easier but Toprak Esir had never subscribed to the technological demands of the world, just as they did not engage in modern communications.

Horsa had already explained to Moran about the carpet scrap and the importance of comparing the blood on it with the Anglo-Saxon blood they had on hand. Horsa, upon arriving at Moran's lab, said nothing and just handed him the carpet. Moran looked at Horsa and nodded.

Determining blood lines for Moran was a gift but not completely unscientific. Moran began by dissolving the dried blood on the carpet scrap with blood serum, which was blood plasma but without the clotting bodies so that the blood would revive again to a semi-liquid state. Determining a bloodline match required an existing sample of the line you wanted to compare it to. In comparing an Anglo-Saxon bloodline, Moran took a scalpel and made a small cut on his finger and squeezed out a couple of teaspoons, then wrapped it in a bandage.

The blood samples were then placed between two pieces of thin glass and pressed very tightly and clamped so that the blood was as thin as possible. Moran then placed the glass in the freezer, cleaned up and locked up his lab for the night.

Eight hours later, the blood samples would be compared under a microscope and the blood crystals compared. If the two samples were identical, the crystals would mirror each other in exactness. If they were close but not an exact match, they would be similar in crystal formation but differ on shape and size. Moran discovered this behavior over twenty years ago at Hebrew University in Jerusalem, but while trying to publish his results he was scorned by his peers and the scientific world, mostly because no one could discern the crystalline difference as perfectly as he could and scientific theory was rooted in replicable results.

Hengist first heard of Professor Moran's work while working in the Turkish boron mines and when the Russian wars ended, he found Moran destitute, released from his position at Hebrew University and living in government housing in Dagenham, England. Hengist offered him a dream job, which allowed him to continue his research and was awarded a salary of 500,000 GD annually. Moran was over joyed initially but as the years wore on, he became more and more suspect of their grander plans for his work.

Returning to the lab the following morning, Moran took the frozen samples out of the freezer and quickly wiped the frost off both sides of the glass and studied the blood samples. Taking much longer than was usually needed, he compared the two samples again and then again, first not understanding and then not believing what he saw. The two samples were identical in crystal shape which meant they were certainly the same bloodline, but the blood crystals off the carpet sample were much larger and their shape much more distinct and chiseled. The test not only proved the blood from the carpet was pure Anglo-Saxon but that it was the most pure sample Moran had ever tested. Up until today, his blood was the purest they had ever found, but now, they had a stronger sample to test other bloodlines, which could result in massive changes to Moran's work up to this point.

Moran ran out of his lab to find Horsa. Running up the steps to the Administration building he passed Hengist on the front steps, "What makes you in such haste this morning professor?"

Moran, not recognizing Hengist at first was startled but then while catching his breath said, "Pardon me my lord, I have the most amazing news. I have come looking for your brother."

"Horsa has left, I have returned from the gates just now seeing him depart, but with such amazing news, I must hear it."

Moran, calmer now continued, "Do you know of the carpet sample Horsa wanted tested?"

Hengist casually sat down on the building steps and said, "I know it."

Moran, not wanting to be disrespectful by standing while his lord was not, took a seat next to him on the steps. "I was to test it for Saxon purity." Hengist looked at his bandaged finger while Moran continued, "It is pure my lord, very pure indeed. The purest we have found all these years, much purer than mine."

Hengist was pleased with Moran's work but hardly pleased with the results. Thinking out loud, Hengist rubbed the beard stubble on his chin, "Well, so they are both pure Saxons are they? Horsa will be most displeased."

"Both my lord?" said Moran unaware that there were two samples on the carpet scrap.

Hengist patted Moran on the back thanking him for the news and said, "Go back to your lab professor."

# Chapter 6

Veronica responded uncomfortably with all eyes in the room upon her, "You...you haven't heard about the Solar Minimum–I guess? I just happened upon it about a week ago on PubEx; I only watched about 15 minutes of the program before I got bored with it. I wish I had watched more of it now."

"Well, you are fifteen minutes wiser than the rest of us," said Gus.

PubEx was the National Public Exhibit channel digitally transmitted to all devices on the Transnet. Transnet replaced the television for all intents and purposes in about 2022 and millions of what were known as channels in the early part of the century were now available on the Transnet. PubEx was a news and educational programming channel containing global news events and scientific thought. PubEx was also a certified channel meaning the content was scrubbed for accuracy and integrity. However, the Transnet effectively made it possible for anyone in the world to produce their own channel and broadcast anything they desired making objectivity nearly non-existent.

With the acumen of Jess, Ted and Gus in the room, Veronica felt a little intimidated so she somewhat hesitantly began relating what she could remember about an obscure program she had watched a week ago, "From what I remember, they believe that the sun was entering into a period of reduced solar flares and that it was something that has happened in the past but the last time was like back in the 1600s and there is very little data on the effects. I have to admit it sounded all a little sensationalized but isn't all news these days?"

"Oh, yes of course," said Ted, "the Maunder Minimum of 1660, or there abouts. There have been many periods of solar minimums throughout history; in fact I think there was a minimum period around 1800 they called Dayton or Dalton Minimum, or something like that."

Remembering more about the program now, Veronica interrupted, "Yes, except that minimum was only a reduced flare period where the Maunder Minimum was like, almost zero flares and there was even a mini-ice age for like seventy years."

"What other effects will it have on the earth, cooler temperatures are obvious?" asked Shay.

Veronica strained to recall the program, but replied, "I don't remember, and maybe the program didn't explain. After all, I only caught a few minutes of it."

Everyone's eyes turned to Ted the local and at times arrogant expert on almost every topic, "What? Don't look at me, I'm no astrophysicist, I just happened to remember the minimum of 1640, 'er 60."

Veronica suggested that they pull up the Transnet and just watch the episode but Gus countered, "We dare not risk it. Abdul knew our every move and to think we are not being watched at the moment would be foolhardy. Besides, it would be a very easy task to trace our digital fingerprint in this room. What we need is an expert, one that we can trust and one that would be very candid with us and not feed us a bunch of government-sanctioned rubbish."

Jess leaned back in his chair and said, "Good luck with that."

Every respectable university was completely funded by the U.S. government in 2040, which allowed the Feds to control both what was taught and what was researched. Getting candid information would be next to impossible in the United States. Other countries were nearly all the same, and some worse.

Gus thought a moment then said, "I guess it's time to take a trip home and call on family favors."

Gus's father was well connected as a retired Church of England Vicar. He started his church career as the Priest-in-Charge for The University Church of Saint Mary The Virgin in Oxford, and worked his way up to Vicar. His contacts were life-long acquaintances and close friends. If anyone could connect them to an astrophysics expert at Oxford, it was him. Now in his 90s, Vicar Guiscard spent most of his days writing a history of Blackbird Leys, where he now lived.

His father was very opposed to Gus becoming a United States citizen and for many years afterwards, Gus didn't return to England. During this time his mother passed away but in the last 15 years Gus made trips across the Atlantic as needed, usually semiannually, to look after his father and his affairs. Their relationship still showed signs of scarring if the topic of discussion turned to the U.S. Senate or his mother, but for the most part, Vicar Guiscard and Senator Guiscard had sheathed the weapons of familial warfare that comes about through patriarchal wisdom and exceeding age.

Gus had called his father at least once a week for the past 10 years, but no calls were made this week nor did he dare do so in light of recent events. He was sure his father had tried to call him today but since the battery had been removed from his phone all calls were going directly into voicemail.

The hour was now past 2:00 a.m. and the Committee was all exhausted and very worn after an unbelievable weekend. While very much recovered, Matt was notably beyond the point when your body involuntarily falls into immediate REM sleep and he no longer tried to subtly shake his head to keep from falling asleep. He had gotten up from his chair and was pacing the room in a somewhat painful stagger.

Gus pulled a bag from the floor and started collecting his things, "I think it's time we closed the door on this day and prepare for the coming week. We must continue on as if our lives are undisturbed and each go about their usual duties at the Senate. However, I will be leaving just as soon as I can book passage to London. Veronica my dear, I would very much like your assistance as well as yours Senator Hector."

Matt and Veronica both looked at each other and then nodded in agreement.

Veronica, being the great admin that she was, took out her phone to look up the soonest departing flights to London. After not being able to wake up her phone she remembered the battery had been removed and so she placed it back in her purse, frustrated.

Gus continued with his instructions, sounding very tired as well, "I have this room reserved for the entire month, I recommend the three of you who are staying to use it instead of your offices and your homes when you need to collaborate."

Ted, Jess and Shay all nodded.

"Now that Toprak Esir is exposed, you shouldn't have any trouble securing the necessary clearance to delve into their electronic fingerprints and communications. Learn all you can and when we return we will compare notes and determine our fate as well as the worlds–at least the world as we knew it a week ago."

Gus, Veronica and Matt arrived at Reagan National at 3:30 a.m. and began researching flights to London Heathrow. The next flight was in an hour, departing at 4:30 a.m. and arriving in London at 11:00 a.m. Gone were the days of eight-hour trans-Atlantic flights since the advent of atmospheric travel pioneered by Virgin Atlantic. Atmoscrafts after takeoff, traveled upwards 330 kilometers or about 200 miles into the thermosphere where there was almost zero friction and the atmoscraft could travel at incredible speeds without burning up. The atmoscraft from DC to London traveled around 1,200 miles per hour, although, some atmoscraft could do over twice that making complete circumnavigation possible in under 10 hours.

Walking to the terminal, Gus longed for the days of slower air travel due to his exhaustion and thought to himself it was going to be another night of less than four hours of sleep. Reaching the designated gate, Gus and his companions took a seat, and waited for their boarding call. Half asleep Gus felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and then relax. In surprise he opened his eyes just in time to see a woman with jet black hair pass him. He wrote it off as extreme fatigue and closed his eyes again. Soon after, the VIP boarding started and Gus, Veronica and Matt walked on board flight OATL-76 to Heathrow without any carry on or luggage.

Senators had special perks when it came to travel and enjoyed priority seating on atmoscraft which was very coveted as well as expensive. The seats in coach were not much different than the old days of air travel except the seats had double shoulder seatbelt straps. The double straps were very necessary during the vertical climb which lasted for 20 minutes while the coach passengers were nearly laying on their backs until the thermosphere was reached at which point the craft leveled off. In the VIP cabin, the seats were not only larger and more comfortable but were also on a rolling castor allowing the seat and passenger to always remain perpendicular to the angle of ascent which allowed the passenger to be in an upright and seated position during the entire flight.

Some things about air travel hadn't changed however, the center seat problem had still not been resolved and there was always the fear of getting stuck in the center seat next to a very large person. Whether Matt was being chivalrous, or just tired, he decidedly took the center seat and immediately fell asleep. Veronica and Gus took the seats on either side of Matt and soon found themselves on the verge of sleep as well.

A few moments later, or so it seemed, they were all awakened by the sound of the captain announcing their arrival into the London area and all the usual warnings, precautions, and don't-do's, at the end—the speech everyone has heard but never remembers, "Thank you for flying with us today."

Gus wasn't sure if he felt better or worse after sleeping for only three hours but Matt summed it up for all three of them when he walked to the nearest pub in the terminal and asked for coffee, aspirin and a beer. They then made their way to the airport lower level where they got passage on a train to Oxford and another opportunity to sleep.

Feeling a little more alive now, Gus and his companions got out of a taxi and walked up to a modest flat where Gus's father lived and without knocking, Gus tried to walk in but found the door locked. After knocking they could hear the shuffling footsteps of an old man approach the door. Opening it, Gus embraced his father and as was their custom, one of them would first say in Latin, "dilexit me" to which they would respond together, "sic ego dilexi vos." It was their personal greeting of affection since Gus was a child and was an adaption of St. John 15:9, "As the Father hath loved me, so I have loved you."

"I am very pleasantly surprised to see you; I did not get your call on Sunday but figured you were about your duties," said Gus Senior.

"Yes, I am very sorry about the missed call but I'm afraid it isn't safe for me to use such insecure communication at the moment," said Gus Junior.

Gus senior stepped back, welcomed his guest and said, "Oh?"

"We are here on some rather urgent business that only you can help us with I'm afraid. Allow me to introduce my dear friends, this is Veronica Paige, my right arm and this is Matthew Hector or, excuse me, Senator Hector from the proud State of Montana."

"How do you do, welcome to your homeland."

Gus's father was very proud of his English heritage and looked upon Americans as his children, offshoots from the English womb, as they rightly were, "I dare say you all look completely fagged. Can I get you some refreshment, some tea perhaps?"

Matt responded abruptly, "Yes, please and thank you."

Vicar Guiscard turned to go into the kitchen when Veronica insisted he sit, "Let me your," Veronica paused not knowing how to respectfully address a Vicar and after an uncomfortable pause she continued, "Grace." Feeling stupid she left for the refuge of the kitchen and filled the kettle with water.

Gus's father took a seat and addressed his son, "So what is so very important that warrants a trip over the pond and what could a 96 year old man possibly do to help?"

"Father, I have extraordinarily bad news that makes me feel like I'm living in a bad cinema that will not end."

Gus's father now looked as grave as Gus and he sat back into his chair and waited for a painful violin recital.

Gus related to him the fantastic but now worn-out story and events that got them to his home in Oxford and why they were there. Just before Gus had finished, Veronica returned with the tea and they all helped themselves. Gus continued with his monologue and when he finished, it was easy for Veronica and Matt to see where Gus got his resolve and determination.

Gus Senior said nothing, got up and put on a light jacket and his cap while everyone else watched him, still seated.

"Come on then," motioning them to get up, "You need to go see Professor Winston at the College. He will know all there is to know about any kind of minimum goings on and what's this is all about; and if he doesn't know it, no one knows it."

Professor Winston was giving a lecture in the Martin Wood Lecture Theater when they arrived at the Physics College and the four of them took a seat in the back of the theater and waited for the lecture to end. Matt, still exhausted closed his eyes and slowly the tedious lecture on astrophysical fluids faded into a distracting noise. Veronica gave him a nudge, waking him as the theater was clearing out and students were zipping book bags and backpacks. They waited until the students had cleared then they made their way down to the lecture platform and waited for one last student to finish her conversation with the professor.

Once the student left, the professor directed his attention to Gus and his entourage, "Well, well, Revd.' Guiscard. I thought I saw you shuffle in in the back."

Veronica made a mental note on the proper way to address Vicar Guiscard for future use.

Smiling he asked, "What brings you and your friends into such a dry lecture, if I may be so critical of myself?"

Shaking hands, Gus's father introduced everyone and said, "My son has some questions for you about something called solar minimum or other and needed a straight talker, not the government-sanctioned, bishop-beating nonsense they get in the States."

Professor Winston looked around the theater, looking for a stray student or other unwelcomed person and responded soberly, "Let's retire to my chambers where we can be freer in our speech."

They walked across the lawn separating the lecture hall and the professor's office but before entering the professor's office, Gus inquired about the doors to the left and right. A little surprised, the professor said, "The left door there is but a closet and the right door is my agent's office. He is out today."

Still looking at Gus puzzled, he walked into his office.

Gus walked over to the closet in an attempt to open it, but finding it locked, he walked over to the professor's agent or assistant's office and after seeing no one in it, locked the door from the inside and shut it. He returned to the professor's office and asked him if he had the key to the closet to the right of his door.

"Oh, I suppose," said the professor somewhat irritated. "Do your questions have to do with cleaning agents?"

"I can explain in a moment, but first I must ascertain that we are at complete privacy."

Professor Winston unlocked the door and with Gus now satisfied that it contained no harbinger, he inquired about the wall opposite the professor's office. "Let's see, that would be an outside wall I believe–yes, on the other side of that wall is the campus gardens and then the wood."

Satisfied, Gus thanked the professor for his indulgence and entered the office followed by the professor and they locked the door.

Being that they were in the professor's chambers, it was his duty to direct the conversation and respectfully Gus Junior and Senior waited for the professor. Taking their lead, Veronica and Matt also sat quietly.

The professor paused, thinking first before saying anything then started very deliberate and careful, "It appears we may both have information the other needs and I have to warn you, what we are about to discuss is as unpopular here in the U.K. as it is in the U.S."

Nodding, now that the conversation had been initiated, Gus responded, "Understood Professor. We are all well-versed in the delicacy of the topic."

Wanting to get a better understanding of the situation, the professor continued, "Tell me–how is it you have come to be so interested in the current Solar Minimum? It is a topic that makes the general public yawn." Down-playing the topic greatly for fear of saying too much he added, "Frankly it will probably pass with only a footnote in the history books."

Gus, also keeping his cards close to his vest responded, "We happened upon some information that leads us to believe the Solar Minimum may have something to do with..."

Matt, never being a stickler for formalities and especially abhorrent of a game of cat and mouse, interrupted, "Professor, we have reason to believe there is an evil plot afoot to enslave the world and that they are using the Minimum to their advantage." He took off his shirt to the great surprise of everyone and showed the professor his wound that was still oozing slightly and very sore. "This is a demon bite I received while beating the poor sucker to death. I don't know if they are related but at last check, demons were confined to novels and the Bible, not roaming around the White House lawn."

This was the first time Veronica had seen Matt's wound and seeing so much flesh missing from his arm she gasped, "Oh Matt!"

This was the first time Veronica had ever addressed Matt without proper titles or using his full name. To everyone else in the room it went unnoticed except for Gus. On the flight over, Gus awoke during mid-flight to see Veronica's head resting on Matt's good shoulder. At the time he thought it purely accidental but now he wasn't so sure.

Surprised and also a little disgusted at American brashness the professor responded, "Well, that sets an ugly stage if ever I saw one. However, I thank you senator. I now know I am talking to insiders and not probers."

Professor Winston continued without reservation, "The current Solar Minimum is beginning to defy all we thought we knew about minimum states and solar flares in general. The current Minimum was actually first noted in 2030. Granted, it was just a hunch at that time but over the past 10 years flare activity has consistently decreased with no rebound in sight. Although not noticeable to most, global temperatures have decreased by seven percent but that number will rise dramatically by next year due to reciprocal cooling."

"Reciprocal cooling?" asked Matt, while putting his shirt back on.

"Yes, meaning the earth tends to grow cooler if the previous period was cool. For example, the first half of winter is always warmer than the last half. This is because the earth is still cooling down from the warmth of summer, but from the Winter Solstice to the Vernal Equinox, temperatures are colder by 40 percent on average than from the Autumn Equinox to the Winter Solstice."

Professor Winston continued, "It's possible that snow could fall as far south as Seville and snow pack as far as Helsinki. The worst part of that prediction is that it will most likely not melt until the solar flares return."

"How long will that be?" said Veronica.

"We don't know how long minimum states last. Of course, the last major minimum in 1640—the last minimum period we have any reliable record–lasted seventy years. We just don't have any data to predict the sun's behavior. Odd really, it's the most important heavenly body to us, and yet we know virtually nothing about its behavior."

Gus's father, being deeply interested in the well-being of Hmmanity suggested, "Considering the millions living in the snow pack zones of the world; they will need to migrate south to warmer temperatures of course."

"Certainly, but that is only a small part of the problems we will face as we learn to deal with our world's relationship with the sun," said the Professor as he considered the problems the world would face.

"Please explain," said Gus.

Professor Winston took a deep breath and paused for several moments then continued, "Apart from the evil opportunists at large in the world—that it appears you have already experienced—we have reason to believe that atmospheric changes in both temperature and chemical make-up will or could have devastating results on our modern world." The professor woke up his computer and loaded a video of an experiment, after thirty seconds into it, he passed it. "What you are about to see is extremely classified, not even the crown knows about this as of yet; but what you will see is raw black powder failing to ignite." He resumed the video and just has he had said, an open flame next to the black powder produced nothing, not even a small spark."

Confused Matt responded, "Is it in a vacuum, no oxygen?"

"No, the only gas present in addition the air in the room was ozone."

Equally confused, Gus sat back in his chair with his hands pressed together and held to his lips, "Ozone, like the ozone layer of the atmosphere?"

"Exactly," said the professor pointing to Gus as if he were a student in his classroom.

Still confused, everyone sat quietly waiting for the professor to continue, "It's more than just temperature change. The lack of solar radiation and infrared light also affects our world in dramatic ways, starting with the atmosphere of course. We have reason to believe, or rather, we know that if the Minimum continues the ozone layer will descend and the world as we know it will stop responding in ways we have come to rely on. Ozone is an oxidizing agent of course. Oxidizers are the magic ingredient in most explosive materials. However, when too much of an oxidizer is present it has the opposite effect and prevents an explosion, which is what you just saw."

Alarmed, Gus asked, "When will it happen?"

"Sadly we don't know. All we do know is that it is certain to happen if the Minimum continues. However, if flares resume even on a small level, it may not happen at all—but the trend currently is completely downward with no sign of rebound which is why we are concerned."

Matt smirked, "The anti-gun activists will be dancing in the streets."

The professor took another deep sigh, "Only for a short time I'm afraid. There are far worse things in this world than guns. What will our enemies in the Middle East turn to when small arms no longer kill? As far as we know, all warheads will still fire; but if only that were the worst of it."

Horrified looks from everyone in the room prompted Professor Winston to open another video file on his computer and as it played he explained, "This experiment is actually quite old, 1939 I believe. It was an attempt to demonstrate the effect of carbon monoxide on plant life. The experiment actually turned out in the opposite than the initial hypothesis, which was that plant life would die with elevated levels of carbon monoxide. Of course, the truth is, plant life only takes in carbon monoxide so therefore, the plants thrived with elevated levels of it. However, what you are watching here is a controlled environment where ozone levels were increased by only fifteen percent. You'll notice that the leaves look like they are actually burned around the edges."

He stopped the video and continued his lecture, "With an increase of only 20 percent, the study revealed complete failure and death of the plants. With the high possibility of increased levels of ozone on our planet, we will see a decrease in plant growth there is no question. Now, we don't know if all plant life will respond in the same way but the plants you see here were soybean and cotton; a staple the world over. I do believe the lack of guns is the least of our worries."

Gus's father reverently bowed his head and whispered, "Dear God, how will we feed everyone?"

"Exactly," confirmed the professor.

"The King and parliament must know about this," demanded Vicar Guiscard.

"And what could they possibly do?" asked Gus.

Gus's father thought a moment and suggested, "This isn't that much different than Joseph of old."

The room looked at him blankly, clueless as to what he was referring. "You know, that Joseph who was sold as a slave to the Egyptians by his brothers?"

Everyone slowly began to nod.

"He warned pharaoh that there would be seven years of famine and pharaoh was able to store food and prepare—he saved the entire nation," Vicar Guiscard continued after realizing a flaw in his reasoning, "But, alas, they had time to prepare. A luxury we do not have."

There seemed to be nothing that could be done and knowing about the impending calamity only served to torture those who knew it. Remembering Gus's paranoid behavior before they entered his office, the professor asked, "So, were you going to explain why it was so important to look in the cleaning closet?"

Gus, out of necessity started at the beginning of their Minimum events–that were now over a week old–and related them to professor Winston with almost no emotion.

The professor responded somewhat defeated, "Then my suspicions are correct. The evil that resides in the most base of men has found a way to turn disaster into fortune. How they have done it I couldn't begin to guess," shaking his head, "demons, harbingers and the devil knows what else."

Forever the optimist, Gus interjected, "All the more reason we must use what knowledge we have to counter their actions and find a way to win, which is why we are here."

The professor was defeated and sullen, "There is just so much we don't know, so much to learn and no time for it."

Gus got up and patted the professor on the back, thanking him for his invaluable information and candidness, "We will be here for a few days at least and hopefully during that time we can discover what it is or how it is our enemies are using the Minimum, but for now, we are all exhausted from a very long weekend and are in need of some rest and down time. Let's resume our discussions on Wednesday shall we?"

The professor nodded.

After seeing Vicar Guiscard to his flat, Gus, Veronica and Matt found some rooms at The Old Bank Hotel on High Street in Oxford. The hotel was an elegantly renovated space and by far the nicest hotel in the city. Getting off the elevator, Matt turned to Gus and said, "Why didn't you tell the professor about your experience with Veronica?"

"I felt it would complicate things at this point in time and frankly, I'm not sure where the professor's allegiance lies. We must move very carefully and be sure to not divulge anything to the wrong ears."

Matt nodded, "One thing is for sure, the more we learn, the more it points to only one thing."

"What is that?"

"We're in for a hell of a ride."

Correcting him Veronica said, "Or you mean a ride through hell."

* * *

Three thousand, six hundred miles to the west, Shay arrived at his office at the Capital early since he was having a new staff member start today. He arrived just before 9:00 a.m. making sure the usual things were in order and in case there were any problems with security he would be there to sort it out. His new staff member was only to be a summer and fall intern that he took on as a favor for a good friend in Hilo, on the Big Island of Hawai'i. Enakai was in her late 20s. She had grown up in a good family but got involved with the wrong crowd in her late teens, but she had been clean for six years now and was just finishing up a degree in pre-law at the University of Hawai'i.

Right on time, Enakai walked in the door at 9:00 a.m., Shay saw her to her new office and introduced her to the rest of his staff who would be getting her situated and oriented to her duties and the duties of a senator's office. As Shay walked back into his office he found Jess sitting on his sofa waiting for him.

"Who's the new girl?" he said.

"Oh, a favor, she just flew in this morning from Honolulu on the red-eye. I told her she could start tomorrow but she is very eager and insisted starting today. I'm rather impressed actually. The kid has had a rough 10 years, I'm glad to help out someone so willing to put things right in their life."

"What is her name?"

"Enakai, she is half-Hawaiian I believe; I never knew her mother but her father and I go way back."

"You would never know she was only half-Hawaiian with her jet black hair," said Jess.

# Chapter 7

Veronica awoke early after only six hours of sleep and opened the black-out curtains in her room, looking out on the narrow English street below. The change of scenery and pace for the moment was welcomed. The last week and a half had been more than a blur in her mind and recounting the swirling events she smiled, pleasantly satisfied that she was in Oxford, England—and alive again—she thought, laughing to herself.

Stretching and enjoining a full yawn, she pulled the neck of her shirt to her nose, "Oh! That's horrible. I have got to get out of these clothes," she said out loud.

She had been in the same clothes for the past three days and nights and had traveled nearly 4,000 miles in them. She had never traveled so far and so light, only with what she was wearing and her purse. "Thank goodness I have that," she thought taking out some lotion and a brush. She walked into the bathroom and was grateful to see a complementary toothbrush; which was something else she hadn't done for three days. Pulling her hair into a ponytail, since it was the only thing she could do with it without a wash, she headed out the door to find a women's clothing shop and some coffee.

Walking toward the lobby she passed a room that she thought looked like a library. She hesitated and poked her head inside since a library was not a common feature in most hotels and as it turned out her assumption was right— _A library, odd—but nice too_ she thought to herself.

Just as she was about to leave she heard a voice from within the library, "There's more than just books in here."

Veronica whirled around to find Matt sitting with a book in the back of the library, looking considerably better than he had for several days, "Hey, I thought you'd be sleeping longer than all of us."

Matt put down his book, placing a finger to hold his place, "I've not been up long, maybe an hour," then looking down at how much he had read, "maybe more. It appears you have found somewhere to go?"

Veronica pulled at her blouse in a loathing gesture, "Yes, I have got to get out of these clothes."

Matt raised his eyebrows while Veronica shook her head and rolled her eyes in playful disgust. Matt raised his good arm above his head and smelled himself, "Hmm...yeah, I suppose I should at least get out of Gus's old shirt—come to think of it, it was dirty when I put it on."

"That's Gus's shirt? I thought it was terrible ill-fitted but thought you were," Veronica laughed, "keen on tight-fitting clothing."

Matt gave Veronica a playful look that said, "very-funny." "Yeah, he pulled it out of his dirty dry cleaning after the incident on the Ellipse and I grabbed a couple more since I figured it might be a while before I got back home."

"Well–I don't need an escort but come on, let's go shopping."

Matt opened the taxi door for Veronica and she slid over to the far side allowing Matt to get in through the same door.

"We are in a terrible need of a change of clothes," said Matt taking charge. "Take us to the nearest quality men's and women's clothiers please."

Pulling away from the curb in front of the hotel, Veronica decided the time had come for her talk with Matt about Petaluma, California. "I have a question for you about the exchange we had on my first day in Gus's office."

Matt turned to Veronica and very Hmmbly said, "Oh Veronica, I'm so sorry about that. I was such an idiot back then."

"Back then? It was a whole 10 months ago Matt."

Matt shook his head as if to make it clearer, "I know, but what I really meant by back then was last week. I can't explain but it's as if–I don't know...like I think differently lately, and feel different. I know I'm making little sense other than maybe I've got a bolt knocked loose or something." He paused while Veronica sat looking at him, "Please forgive me," and then after struggling to make his apology more meaningful and formal he added, "My Lady."

Veronica smiled pleasantly at his extreme formality and title selection then nodded, "All is forgiven. It is really nothing now so long after the incident. I mostly wanted to know how you knew me."

Matt sat quietly for several painful minutes then began, "I guessed you would not remember and I was a right fool to torment you with it." He paused again and sighed as he prepared to come clean, "When we met, you had already had your fill of Harvest Festival wine I think. You were with two other women I did not know and they actually left you with me. We talked for only a few minutes and I could tell you were not well. I sat with you for an hour or so waiting for your friends to return; I assumed they were your friends, but perhaps not since they didn't return. Anyway, I offered to give you a ride and you accepted."

Embarrassed, Veronica shook her head, "Oh, I will never drink again, I swear. I remember none of it." There was a long pause in the conversation, and then Veronica timidly asked, afraid of the answer, "Where did you take me?"

"Home, your home or I guess it was your aunt's home. I swear that is where I took you. I felt sorry for you, I really did but..." Matt paused again.

"But what?" asked Veronica eager for details.

"You were so sick—pretty—but oh so sick. You threw-up in my car and..."

Veronica gasped in horror, "Oh Matt! I am so sorry. I think I'm going to crawl under the seat right here, how absolutely embarrassing."

The cab driver trying to be polite let a small laugh escape his lips and then quickly apologized.

"I'm sure I will be laughing someday about this too, but today I just want to," Veronica was going to say "die" but that expression had taken on a new meaning for her, but since no other word was forthcoming she just said, "cry."

"Veronica, you have nothing to be embarrassed about I assure you. It is I who is embarrassed."

"You embarrassed, why? Did you vomit in my lap?" laughed Veronica.

"Worse. I kissed you."

Silence settled on the cab neither knowing what to say next, if there was even anything to be said at all. The taxi pulled up in front of a row of shops and stopped. Matt and Veronica got out and as the taxi pulled away, Veronica asked, shaking her head in confusion, "So, why did you kiss me?"

Matt directed Veronica over to a bench outside the shops and had her sit, "First of all, I was a complete, arrogant bastard then, full of entitlement and conceit. Second," Matt stopped, not wanting to make an even bigger fool of himself and reconsidered his next words. "Second doesn't matter, what I did was wrong. I helped you out of my car and got you inside lying down, then got a towel and cleaned you up the best I could while maintaining your honor, which I swear to you. I stood there looking at you sleeping or probably passed out, and—I kissed your soft lips and left," after a short pause he added, "I'm so sorry."

Veronica sat pondering what Matt had just said, then after a few minutes continued, "Well, it was just a kiss, not rape." Veronica pretended that she was past feeling and brushed it off outwardly as nothing. "Let's go find something new to wear," completely and intentionally derailing the awkward conversation, "We should probably pick up something for Gus while we're at it."

Returning to the hotel, Veronica stopped at the front desk, asked the bellman to deliver several shopping bags to Gus's room and then rushed to her own room anxious to get out of her clothes and into a hot shower.

Veronica returned to the library an hour later thinking she would find Matt there but the room was empty and quiet. She browsed the bookshelves and pulled out a book on English history during the Elizabethan period and got lost in an oversized plush chair. She was wearing a new and slightly oversized sweat shirt with an Oxford University logo on the front. She smiled inwardly at the unmatched comfort of wearing a new sweat shirt, fresh out of the shower and an old book on history, her favorite subject. After several pages, comfort overcame her and she dozed off into a dreamless, drooling sleep—her book in her lap.

Shortly afterwards, Matt came down the stairs fresh from the shower as well and saw Veronica. Matt stood looking at her sleeping peacefully and he of course remembered the same scene almost a year ago when he quite literally stole a kiss from her. The afternoon sun was shining through the two-century old glass onto her beautiful brown hair. Veronica usually wore her hair up while at the Senate but today, it was long and loose nearly to her waist in length. While admiring her beauty, Matt noticed some drool in the corner of her mouth and he smiled. She was the picture of perfection in his mind and looking at her this way was painful. Matt forced himself to take a seat across the room where he resumed reading the book he had started earlier that morning and every few minutes he would look over at Veronica and breathe in her presence, filling his lungs with living breath and pure pleasure.

"How did you ever know my size? And if I hadn't known better I would have thought I picked it out personally," said Gus, walking into the library, disturbing the peace of the room and waking Veronica.

Smiling and in a tired voice Veronica sat up, "Now what kind of an assistant would I be if I didn't know your shirt and pant size as well as your style preference?"

Looking around the room, Veronica noticed Matt had found his way down and she wondered how long he had been there. She rolled her lips together wondering if she would have awakened if he had tried to kiss her again. Hearing Gus speaking, she shook the cobwebs from her mind and tried to pay attention.

"When we checked in last evening I reserved the entire floor so that we can be assured we are truly alone. The last of the guests in those rooms will be checking out today. My father is on his way here, says he has some news for us, but failed to say what it was specifically."

Gus's stomach growled loud enough for all to hear, "I am starving, have the both of you eaten anything at all?"

"We had only some coffee and something that looked like a doughnut or a bagel but tasted like neither," said Matt.

Gus's father met them in the restaurant next to the hotel and told them that Professor Winston had called him that morning wondering if they could meet and asked where they all were staying. On any other day he would have volunteered the information but today he thought better of it.

Gus assured him he had done rightly and added, "Professor Winston may very well be with us, but we can't risk trusting anyone too soon."

Gus's father nodded his head in agreement, "Unfortunately I agree and figured I would rather have him be offended than to risk your safety."

Veronica gasped. As they all turned to look at her they could see she was responding to something on the Transnet display in the restaurant. They all turned their attention to the program that was being aired and listened.

"As we approach mid-July, this corn field behind me should be over five feet tall. While some stalks are reaching that height, most in this field are less than four. What's worse—most stalks show signs of poor nutrition although this farmer in Kent insists he has fertilized according to accepted standards typical throughout the U.K. Experts are concerned since this farmer's experience is typical across the country as well as on the continent. If things do not improve or if farmers cannot resolve the slow growth problem, Europe could be facing a greatly reduced maize crop this year, resulting in inflated prices."

Looking at the images on the Transnet, they could see the corn leaves looked just like the images Professor Winston showed them yesterday.

"It has begun then—with no time to prepare and no time to even guess what to do," said Gus. He looked around the busy restaurant at the businessmen, families and friends going about their day completely ignorant of the calamity that was about to rapidly descend upon their world.

"In my mind I had the chronology of events starting with the nullification of gunpowder and then plant life, but it appears–and it makes sense–that plant life would be most volatile to ozone changes," said Matt.

"But Matt," said Veronica, "maybe gunpowder has already been affected?"

Out of habit, Matt felt for his sidearm that was not there and sighed, frustrated. They all looked at one another then Gus took his phone out of his pocket, replaced the battery and handed it to his father, "Call Professor Winston and see if we can't put some order to these events."

Gus's father began dialing but stopped when he saw the professor walking in the door of the restaurant. He handed the phone back to Gus and pointed.

Approaching their table, Professor Winston greeted everyone using their proper titles and coming to Veronica he pleasantly smiled and said, "My Lady." He then turned to Gus, "I'm very sorry for the intrusion but it is very urgent that we speak; not here and not at the University."

"We can go back to the hotel, I reserved the entire floor and I believe most of the lingering guests should now be checking out."

The professor nodded and they made their way back to Gus's room which was a suite he reserved for the soul purpose as having it double as a meeting room. Before going up to their floor Gus requested a bellmen accompany them and had him unlock and open every door on the floor and leave them propped open. Once satisfied that the floor was harbinger-free, Gus joined the group in his suite.

"Very early this morning at half past four, I got a call from Buckingham Palace. The dispatcher asked me to hold and the next thing I knew, I was talking to the bloody King himself."

In 2040, the House of Windsor was still firmly in control of the United Kingdom. Parliament was still officially functioning but progressively over the past 20 years their power and influence was on the wane and more and more decisions were resting directly on the Prime Minister and the King, the Prime Minister acting more as an advisor. England had gone through such shifts in power several times before over the centuries and like the high levels of political apathy in the United States, the English public couldn't be bothered with the details. Parliament, like both houses of Congress in the U.S. was overflowing with self-serving opportunists and the Crown, in the best interest of the Kingdom had been slowly resuming control. The United Kingdom was fortunate to have such a system, where a sovereign oversaw the entire government and could influence and effect change when and where needed.

"He was very aware of your arrival and our meeting yesterday but had called to discuss the Minimum, specifically the crop effect that was made public today."

Gus nodded, "Yes we caught the last part of it while in the restaurant. So, the King referred to it as The Minimum?"

"Indeed he did, but that shouldn't cause any alarm. The King has always had access to Oxford research projects and I'm certain his advisors have brought him up to speed."

Confused, Gus responded, "I believe I heard you say yesterday that you had not alerted the Crown to your research?"

"Not overtly is what I should have said. They were aware of the research of course but what I had not shared was my professional opinion and the–obviously now—certainty of certain future events. The King asked specifically why you were in Oxford and why he had not received any official communication from your President."

"How did the King know we were on his island?" said Matt annoyed.

Gus interjected before his father or the professor could respond, "The U.K. is a nation under CCTV—closed captioned television. All major intersections, public walkways and buildings are under continual surveillance. Certainly our booking on a flight to the U.K. alerted the Crown since we are U.S. dignitaries and it was easy from there to watch us travel here."

"Oh," said Matt, somewhat deflated and catching a simile from Veronica.

Gus resumed, "Sadly, our current President is," he paused and apologized to Matt and Veronica in advance of what he was about to say, "A lame duck and the Vice President an opportunist. I hardly think he has poked his head out of Camp David since taking office to say nothing of being aware he has a country to run. I am certain this crisis, like a great many other things, will catch him totally by surprise, a day late and many trillion dollars short. What did you tell him—the King?"

"The only thing I could, the truth. I'm very sorry. I said that you had been following events in your country and came to see me in an effort to get unsanctioned information. I don't think he was pleased with me."

"Why, what did he say?" asked Gus.

"He declared my work, all information in my lab and chambers and even what I knew but had not recorded anywhere as property of the Crown, and that I was forbidden to share it with anyone without his approval. After all, it is the King's University."

Gus thought a minute, "So, your visit here to see us is what, a trap? Certainly they know you are with us."

"No, it is no trap—per se. They gave me permission to share freely with you and your friends on certain conditions."

"And those conditions are what?" asked Matt.

"That you not withhold any information you have, and" the professor paused and looked at everyone in the room before continuing, "you are not allowed to leave the country—I'm very sorry."

Matt's fuse was lit, "Excuse me Professor?" He jumped up from his chair and approached the professor in earnest. Greatly alarmed, Professor Winston tried to quickly get out of his chair and he stood up just as Matt reached him. Matt shoved him back down so hard that his chair flipped over backwards, landing the professor on his back.

He laid there looking up at Matt trying to keep his voice from trembling, "This has nothing to do with me I assure you. Besides, you were not ordered here from Washington, you came on your own accord."

"Yes, on our own accord–to an allied country, I didn't think we had come to bloody red China."

Gus stood up and placed his hand on Matt's back with the desired effect of putting out his fuse, "Matt, we probably shouldn't destroy the one person who could affect our release—hmm? We also must remember the world is a much different place than it was several weeks ago. From here on out I suspect we will see all the countries of the world acting very differently."

Matt stood looking at the professor for several moments longer to ensure the threat was well absorbed, and then returned to his seat. No one spoke and the feeling in the room was now very tense. Gus knew he had to repair the relationship somehow and regain both the professor's trust as well as the King's. He walked over to the professor who was getting up and helped him get his chair upright.

"In light of the past week's events, I'm sure you can see why I have chosen Senator Hector as my traveling companion. He only did what the rest of us were thinking. There was never a U.S. Senator more loyal to truth and right than Senator Hector. You too may well benefit with him on your team in the future."

Matthew nodded at Gus thanking him for his support as he was still cooling down waiting for the adrenaline to abate in his blood stream.

There was no use in arguing the details of their loose imprisonment. Manipulating the electronic records was an easy feat for governments. Gus was certain that the Crown already had him, Veronica and Matt booked on a returning flight to Washington and all communications via cell phone would be blocked. Cell phones in 2040 were capable of identifying the user so no matter which phone was used, any call outside the country would be blocked. All his friends and associates would know is that Gus and his companions had returned to Washington and were now missing; effectively making it a United States problem.

Many electronic inventions that were designed to increase communication and personal security in the past 40 years were now manipulated by governments the world over to control their population. Positive identification on cell phones was sold to the public as a safety measure and in the United States; Homeland Security mandated the measure to prevent terrorist communications. The effect was that the Feds—and all world governments–now had the ability to identify all communicators, their communications and track their whereabouts. There was a bill on the Senate floor at that very moment that would make cell phone ownership and use mandatory for all citizens over the age of eight. A standard issue cell phone would be available to all free of cost, but citizens would still be allowed to purchase higher grade phones at their option. England had already passed such a law two years ago, as had many other governments.

The massive, super computers owned by world governments in 2040 recorded every conversation, and logged every destination of their citizens, which was pushed upon them as a means to protect them. Terrorist activity sadly was only abated for a small time after the restrictions were put in place until they learned how to work around technological restrictions. Consequently, terrorist organizations were much less calculated and accurate in their attacks and the number of attacks just increased, which is why Russia took the actions they did in 2029.

Gus's clear headedness and wisdom prevailed, "We have every intention of cooperating with the English Crown in this matter. As far as I see it, this is a global problem that will touch all nations equally regardless of our distain for one another. I suggest that since we in this room are at the fore of this crisis we set a precedent of working together."

Matt was not looking very happy after Gus's last comment but trusting in his wisdom, he sat back in his chair further and listened.

"Professor, I have not been completely honest with you but after I tell you what I have to say, I think you will understand why. Yesterday, I was not sure which side of the fence you were on and frankly, I couldn't trust this information with just anyone; besides, it all sounds a little self-promoting but nonetheless important for you to understand."

Gus took his seat again and shared his and Veronica's secret, "Just over a week ago, I was nearly assassinated in my office in Washington."

"Bloody hell!" said the professor with surprise and compassion.

"Sadly, my dear assistant here," he said pointing to Veronica, "was shot and killed in the incident."

The professor looked at Gus as if he were mad, "Excuse me—your assistant, who is–here?"

"Yes, you heard correctly. She was shot twice and while I was lamenting her death, I willed her to live–and she lived as you can plainly see. We didn't understand it at first but we've started to put together the pieces in the past week. I'm sure it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with the Minimum and given the right circumstances any in this room could have done the same I believe."

Professor Winston sat without speaking for several minutes and seeing that he was deep in thought trying to work out some kind of logic, everyone sat quietly and waited for him to respond. After several awkward minutes he asked, "Has anyone noticed anything else—odd?"

"I've grown several shirt sizes in the past week," Matt volunteered, laughing.

The professor turned to him, "What was that?"

Matt feeling a little embarrassed responded, "Oh, nothing. I just purchased some clothing today and the size that fit was larger than what I wear in the U.S., but it's because of the sizing differences in the U.K."

The professor looked at Matt for a moment considering what he had just said and then responded, "No, that is not true. U.K. and U.S. sizes are the same except for shoes and hats. On the continent the clothing sizes would be very different than you see here, but a size 17 in the U.S. is a size 17 here."

"Well how can that be? I was comfortable in a 16 ½ last week, yet today I purchased an 18 inch neck shirt. You would think I would notice such a thing."

In a playful demeanor, Veronica responded, "Well big boy!"

The professor turned to the rest of the room, "Has anyone else noticed anything out of the ordinary?"

Everyone slowly began to shake their heads as they tried to remember the last two weeks. Then Gus responded slowly, "Veronica has been much more direct in her temperament and, I would say—for lack of better words—noble and brave, certainly much more so than when I hired her. Please don't miss understand me Veronica, it is not a complaint by any means, only an observation."

The professor looked at Vicar Guiscard, "And you?"

Gus's father laughed, "Not this old man, unless you mean not having to get up in the night to pee."

Everyone laughed along with Vicar Guiscard's light-hearted and somewhat irreverent demeanor.

"That is what I mean," The professor got up from his chair and stood as if he were giving a lecture. "We have all experienced changes in our lives over the past little while. Some dramatic and others, not so dramatic," he said smiling at his longtime friend, Vicar Guiscard. "The point is the plants and black powder will not be the only things affected by the Minimum. I'm not going to pretend that I understand it by any means, because I certainly do not."

Matt raised his hand to interrupt, "Professor, you mentioned we _all_ have been affected. We've shown you ours now it's your turn. That's how it works in the States," he laughed slightly at his own joke but no one else did.

"Nothing for me personally–at least not that I've noticed, but I have a colleague at the university who has been studying learning behavior in rats. He has had two particular rats for quite some time, long enough to name them and I must say to grow attached to them, which is never good for a scientist. Over the past few weeks, one rat seemed to be progressing faster than the other with simple tasks. The other rat appeared to be getting more aggressive. Well, today my colleague entered his lab to find the aggressive rat had killed the other and had started to devour it. My colleague was perplexed and of course I offered no explanation at the time but in light of what we have been discussing here today—it's all too coincidental. This morning I believed the rats were just an anomaly but to have four anomalies in one room—it's no coincidence. It is very unscientific to sum it all up as the effect of the Minimum but what else could have such broad reach and all at the same time interval? If it is the Minimum, one thing is for certain, we are not all affected equally or in the same way–and some not at all, apparently."

"But does that really make any scientific sense professor?" asked Gus, "I mean, the sun shines on us all rather equally does it not?"

"Yes it does, but consider our individual differences when it comes to food. One man can eat peanuts every day and yet another will die if he even touches it once in his life. We certainly were not created equal. That lie was invented by the Americans." The professor stopped, forgetting the company he had in the room, "I am so sorry, I do not mean to offend."

"Don't sweat it Professor, I'm rather inclined to agree with you after what we have seen the past week," said Matt.

Gus got up and walked over to the kitchenette and began to prepare some tea. Veronica got up to help him. Placing the pot on the hotplate he turned to address the professor. His expression was grave and his father, being the first to notice it asked, "What is it son?"

"The rats–one enjoys improved mental ability, the other increased aggression and arguably, a down-right evil disposition. This is without a doubt what we saw in Abdul. Since we cannot predict how the Minimum will affect Hmmans—or any other plant or animal—how do you protect the world when you don't know who the enemy is until it is too late—like the poor rat."

"Or like poor Matt?" said Veronica.

Gus sighed, "Indeed."

Matt, wanting to change the subject asked the professor, "So—what about our apparent imprisonment and when is our appointment with the King?"

The professor was confused, not remembering mentioning their appointment yet, "did I mention that you had an appointment?"

"No you did not but I can't imagine we would be held here and not even asked a few questions," said Matt.

Coming clean, the professor cleared his throat, "Right—well, a car will be here for you tomorrow late morning to take you into London. You needn't worry. I assure you, you will be treated with the greatest of honor."

"Of that I have no doubt professor; after all, I am English," said Gus.

Gus's father countered, "Were English."

Everyone in the room looked at both Gus and his father and sensing some tension decided to not comment. Veronica and Gus brought the tea over to the group just as there was a knock at the door. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at each other for a moment. Since it was Gus's room, all eyes eventually turned to him as if he had just drawn the shortest straw.

Matt followed Gus to the door unplugging a lamp and tearing off the shade so he could use it as a club. He stood behind the door and then motioned for Gus to open it. Gus took a deep breath, turned the lever and pulled open the door a crack, thinking that if it was an enemy, they would then force the door open. The door did not move and no one forced their way into the room. Feeling a little more comfortable, Gus pulled the door open just wide enough to see who was there, all the while Matt was ready to break the lamp over someone's head.

Veronica walked to where she could see Matt more clearly and waited in anticipation along with everyone else in the room; Veronica considered what she was actually doing and how she was hoping that some thug would break into the room so that she could watch Matt swing into action. Now that she thought about it, she had noticed Matt's build much larger than when they left Washington and she couldn't deny that it was very impressive.

"Senator Guiscard?" came an official-sounding voice from in the hallway, "His Majesty's Emissary sir. May we have a word?"

Gus opened the door all the way, revealing Matt standing with the lamp and the two men outside the door looked at him in alarm. Matt quickly threw the lamp down and in his embarrassment extended his hand, "Senator Matthew Hector." He found their state of alarm Hmmorous and he began to laugh slightly, "At your service." Closing the door, Matt noticed two armed guards in the hall standing at attention effectively stopping anyone from coming in or going out.

The two men came into the room and Gus introduced everyone as they were invited to sit, which they did, still not speaking a word.

"And how can we be of service to you?" said Gus.

England had always been the land of tradition but the King was especially known as a traditionalist and he loved the pomp and pageantry of royal life. All the royal guards and military dress uniforms were patterned after 19th century styling. Both men were dressed in dark navy blue trousers with a red stripe down each leg, pressed and very crisp. They also wore red jackets with elegant white embroidering and gold buttons. Their appearance was very impressive and before they even spoke a word, they demanded respect and attention.

"Have you been in touch with your office or your government today Senator Guiscard?" said the more senior looking of the two emissaries.

"I have not and given that we are prisoners in your country I didn't think any calls out of the country would be allowed so I have not ventured."

"We bring troubling news I'm afraid. Our ambassador has just informed His Majesty that our embassy in the United States has just been bombed. It is too soon for any kind of fatality count but the ambassador himself was away from the embassy and is unharmed. We can tell from your reactions that you were completely unaware of these developments."

"Indeed!" said Gus taking a seat. "What more do you know, has anyone taken responsibility?"

"We do not have many details but it appears the United States had taken responsibility."

Matt jumped to his feet but Gus put out his arm to stop him from doing anything stupid and motioned him to sit, "Gentlemen, while I have only been away from my country for a couple days, I can hardly think things have deteriorated to this. I have to insist that the U.S. Government had nothing to do with this."

"His Majesty is inclined to agree with you of course since the attack is not only without provocation but also precedent or sanity. However, you must understand the delicacy of the situation, with war on the horizon with the Middle East and lack of U.S. support to this point. His majesty has invited you to the Palace."

Matt, in pure American-brash responded first, "Invited to the palace—is that British-proper for incarceration in the tower?"

"Certainly not Senator, you shall be welcomed as honored guests of State as you should always be in the United Kingdom. Right now, you are the United States as far as the Crown is concerned since all communication has broken down."

"Broken down, how do you mean?" asked Gus.

"All official communication channels are either offline or unresponsive with the United States at the moment. The communication we received from our ambassador was on his personal phone. We learned about the United States taking responsibility via the Transnet, so of course it is suspect. You needn't worry about your treatment here in the U.K. no matter the events; His Majesty's favor shall always be extended to the States."

Matt had always taken the British for being pompous and too ignorantly steeped in tradition to be taken very seriously, but watching the two representatives of the great British Empire handle the current crisis with such virtue and dignity impressed him on a deep level. He sat observing them, their body language and their great respect for the American's in the room who could be–as far as they knew with their limited information—their enemies. Such true valor and moral integrity he had never seen and he was surprised that he longed to be a part of it.

"Of course we will meet with whomever you wish and do all we can to help get to the bottom of what is going on, on all fronts," said Gus.

The two gentlemen got up and respectfully acknowledged everyone in the room nodding to each, "Very well Senators, Professor, Reverend Guiscard, My Lady. His Majesty will expect you all at half past seven tomorrow evening for dinner."

They exited the room without saying anything more and having delivered their message successfully they left the building. However the two guards outside the door remained behind for the protection of the Crowns foreign guests. Veronica watched the men leave from the window and noticed there were also armed guards in front of the building. There was a feeling of security with the armed guards present and she took a relaxed sigh for the first time in days. Turning around, the weight of what just transpired began to settle in her mind. Suddenly, she thought about what dinner at Buckingham Palace would be like and then in panic exclaimed, "I don't have anything to wear!"

# Chapter 8

Washington was alive with the sound of sirens and emergency vehicles along Massachusetts Avenue as crews worked into the night to put out the fires at the British Embassy and search for survivors. The rescue effort was greatly impeded without the use of cellular services as all communications were down for most of the eastern seaboard extending in some areas inland as far as 200 miles. The Homeland Security offices were in a state of confused panic as they did not anticipate an attack of this magnitude and their intelligence network had not uncovered a single shred of evidence leading up to the bombing. It was painfully evident that all U.S. intelligence agencies were ignorant and caught unaware by the attack. While it was true the Homeland Security Advisory System was currently set to Orange, it was mostly just a precaution due to the disappearance of the Senate Speaker of the House a week ago.

Public resentment over the inability of the government to keep its shore's safe had been rising over the past several years in the U.S. despite new government programs, agencies, policies and loss of freedoms. There would certainly be demonstrations on the National Mall following the day's events even though such demonstrations were made illegal many years ago. All government offices and agencies were a blur of activity and at the White House, the President's public relations staff was already working on the political slant for public consumption.

Shay and Jess were waiting for Ted in their reserved room in the Library of Congress. Since Gus had directed them to not use their phones for the business of the Committee, they agreed to meet in the Capitol Rotunda at the close of every day to determine if they needed a private meeting. They had also decided that if a crisis developed, they would all go directly to the Library.

Shay arrived first and Jess followed by only a few minutes. They had both been waiting now for almost an hour for Ted and they began to wonder if they should be worried for his safety. Shay walked over to the door and looked down the hallway to see if he was coming.

"I'm sure he is just detained either at his office or in traffic," said Jess.

Shay shut the door and returned to his chair, "I'm sure you are right." He looked across the table and tried to ascertain Jess's emotions, "What do you make of all this?"

"Toprak—no doubt in my mind, from the moment I heard the news it was my first thought and I doubt I could be convinced otherwise," replied Jess confidently.

"How can you be so sure? Terrorist attacks are nothing new to the U.S." Shay seemed irritated but Jess concluded it was probably just fatigue.

"This one is different. I don't know if you are aware but the Department of Homeland Security had no warning, zero intelligence on the attack, not even a whisper. In my Armed Services Committee briefing this evening they suggested that whoever was behind this did not use any digital communication and probably not even written communication. There is only one organization that I know of that doesn't need technology to communicate over long distances."

"I was not aware of that fact. I agree, it does point to only one organization and we know for a certainty they have hostile intent toward the United States."

Jess took a long drink from a water bottle, "The United States, yes—but this attack was directed at the United Kingdom," he stopped to think. "Or at least it was meant to look that way?"

Just then Ted came through the door and apologized for his tardiness, "What have I missed?"

"Nothing, we've only been discussing the possibility of Toprak involvement. Jess is completely convinced it was Toprak–while I tend to agree, we have no proof," said Shay.

Ted was still catching his breath from running up the stairs, "Toprak gets my vote, _because_ of the lack of proof. This has been perhaps the only attack on the United States where there was not an advanced warning dating all the way back to Paul Revere. That isn't to say the advanced warnings have always been heeded such as the New York attacks or Pearl Harbor, but we had the intelligence. Today, we had zero warning and zero intel."

The bombing took place at 1:15 p.m. that afternoon and by 6:30 p.m. the forensics team was already digging through the rubble and ashes trying to determine the method and placement of the explosives; hoping they could then infer both intent and responsibility. By 10:00 p.m. they had uncovered nothing, not even a hint of how the building exploded; it appeared that the building's foundation just randomly exploded for no apparent reason. There was no trace evidence of any foreign chemicals found at the scene, at least nothing that was out of the ordinary or nothing that was typically found in bomb construction and there was no clear detonation location. An explosion of this magnitude would have required at least a half ton of C4, evenly placed throughout the foundation, but even then, blast locations would be easily identifiable. The foundation of the building was almost completely missing, something the forensics team had never encountered.

"Do they know anything about the bomb itself? What it was made of, where it was placed, how it was placed?" asked Jess as he threw Ted a water bottle.

Ted caught the bottle and sat it down on the table. "No," and said nothing else.

Confused by Ted's lack of commentary Jess replied, "Just no?" replied Jess, "have they recovered anything yet?"

Feeling the need to provide more information, Ted took a deep breath and continued, "No, they have nearly completed their investigation but they have nothing. The entire foundation is missing. Missing as if the foundation itself was the explosive, there is little of it left to be found. It seems absurd but they are suggesting—preliminarily and unofficially of course–that the foundation was laced with explosives at the time the building was constructed. The security footage on every level of the building revealed nothing out of the ordinary, no strange deliveries, no unauthorized personnel, nothing dating back over a month."

"Laced in the foundation pour in 1986? That suggests that the explosives have been dormant for 54 years that seems rather absurd and desperately over reaching," said Shay, being critical of the investigation.

"Indeed it does. Considering that is their only plausible hypothesis at this point illustrates just how far behind Toprak Esir we really are. The fact that they can destroy an entire building in the heart of Washington, the most secure city in the United States, kill over one 100 people without a shred of evidence—scares the hell out of me," said Ted after taking a long drink.

Shay was feeling more confused by the minute instead of finding answers, "If this was Toprak–and I think we all agree that it is–and they are capable of this kind of an attack, then are they just playing with us? I mean, why not just blow-up the White House and the entire city and be done with it?"

The room grew quiet as they all contemplated Toprak's strategy and plan. Jess rubbed his forehead at the thought of the number of Hmman casualties, "So the Hmman toll is over 100 is it? Why the British embassy, and why innocent people? It is obvious a blanket attack as if to send a message verses an individual assassination or a calculated target."

"I'm certain it was calculated verses random, but–the British embassy? I agree the intent is lost on me as well," said Ted as he finally took a seat rubbing his hands over his face, mentally clearing his mind in preparation for an intense session of deductive reasoning.

Jess and Shay both took the non-verbal cue from Ted and they sat up at the table ready to dig into the great and terrible unknown world of Toprak Esir. Just then Ted's phone vibrated as a text message from the department investigating the incident, "Hmm," said Ted as he read it.

"Do share, my son" said Jess in a playful, priestly tone.

"Well, besides the cellular network being back up, the Department of Homeland Security has reviewed airport security records for all international airports and seaports in the northeast and has found nothing." Ted thought for a minute then continued, "Nor would they. Toprak is already here among us just like Abdul was–for years. Toprak has been planning and infiltrating us for at least 10 years, and probably longer than that. National security is going about this all wrong. They are assuming this was just another terrorist ad hoc attack, where an intelligence trail is there for the reading. They have never dealt with the likes of Toprak, no one on the planet has. They are incredibly patient and calculated and worst of all, they know something about the world few others do, certainly more than the Feds."

Following Ted's line of reasoning, Jess added, "How do you even start investigating an organization like that when their plans are already over 10 years old and chances are their pawns and bishops are already trusted among us?"

Shay confidently suggested, "We start first by trusting no one. Then since we don't know where the beginning was, we start with the end. Right now, that end is the British embassy. Traditional forensics have revealed nothing, so therefore, whoever detonated the bomb was an insider at the embassy and was well known since they didn't get flagged on any security footage. How they blew it up, now that is a question."

Following Shay's lead Ted added to his reasoning, "It was obviously a bomb made of materials we are not aware of and therefore forensics missed the chemical traces at the scene, but–you would think in 2040 we would know all of the explosive compounds and combinations in the world."

Jess, having an epiphany waved his hand as if to clear the direction of the reasoning, "Ted, you said we were going about this all wrong, and we still are. We are assuming the world is unchanged and that things are as they were two weeks ago, or ten years ago for that matter. Things are not the same; clearly, I think we need to approach everything as a lab experiment."

Confused, Shay responded, "Lab experiment?"

"Yes, I agree," said Ted, "I've been trying to gather as much information about the effect of sunlight on the planet and it goes far beyond just providing light and warmth. Just the change in the amount of solar radiation hitting the earth can alone have a great effect on many other things, if not everything."

Jess's phone rang and he quickly looked to see who it was, "It's Gus!" he said, being very surprised as were Ted and Shay.

"Gus," he said enthusiastically answering his phone, "are you guys OK? Have you heard what we're dealing with over here?" Listening to Gus, Jess only made small comments, "Hmm—yes—I see." Anxious and frustrated, Ted and Shay motioned to place Gus on speaker.

"Just a minute Gus, I've got Ted and Shay here. We are at the Library; let me put you on speaker."

Placing his phone on the table, Jess said, "OK Gus, can you hear us?"

Gus responded clearly, "Yes, I hear you fine. Listen everyone, my time is extremely limited. I am on my way to dinner with the King but I have something I needed to speak with you about."

Shay interrupted, "Wow, the King huh, are you the main course? I wouldn't have thought Americans would be very popular over there just now." He paused and reconsidered, "Unless you've not heard what happened over here this evening."

"Oh, we heard alright. Two emissaries of the Crown came to my hotel room and I have four armed guards stationed at the hotel. We are not allowed to leave the country at the moment nor probably even the hotel without an escort."

"What?" said Ted, Shay and Jess at varying intervals.

"It's a very long story, and one we can discuss when we have better connections." The cellular network was starting to show signs of breaking up again and Gus determined he had better quickly communicate the reason for his call–apart from making sure they were all well. "We heard the news probably minutes after the event. The British ambassador called the King directly after the incident..."

Jess interrupted, "So the ambassador is alive?"

"Yes, apparently he was away from the embassy–thankfully. The news the ambassador also sent the King was that the United States had also taken responsibility for it."

Confused looks darted around the table then Ted responded, "What, we did this?"

"That is what all of England and the world understands at this moment, it is all over the Transnet."

Shay scoffed, "Oh the Transnet, we shouldn't be too surprised at that. The U.S. isn't very popular in the world at the moment. I'm sure there are a lot of people that would want to paint us as the villains here."

"As true as that may be the problem is, people believe it. I'm surprised you have not heard it."

Shay just then turned on the Transnet in the room while Ted responded to Gus, "We've been in the senate de-briefing and our committee meetings before coming to the library, but we were not told of the Transnet rumors. We have just turned it on now."

Shay navigated to the PubEx channel and it was alive with reports and rumors of the United States taking responsibility for the bombing just as Gus said. They all sat watching for a few minutes while Gus continued, "I assured His Majesty that the United States was not responsible and I understand at least from his emissaries that he concurs but obviously is being very careful at the moment. He has invited us to the palace mostly to ensure our safety–and to discuss diplomatic issues of course."

The PubEx channel broke from their current programming and broadcasted the images captured from the traffic cams on Massachusetts Avenue. Ted, Shay and Jess all stood up, staring in unbelief at the Transnet display. Jess was the only one to convey what they were seeing and express what they were all thinking, "Heaven have mercy us."

Gus was confused and started asking, "What's happening, are you still there? Somebody tell me what is going on."

"Gus, you won't believe what is," Ted stopped talking to Gus and yelled, "OH!" responding again to the Transnet broadcast. At that point, he stopped speaking all together and just looked on in complete disbelief. The room was silent, except for Gus on the phone.

"Hello? Are you still there? For hell's sake someone tell me what is going on," said Gus getting more anxious and irritated by the second.

Jess slowly began to speak, "Gus, Embassy Row has been blown to pieces. It's impossible to tell from the angle we have on Transnet but the street security cameras appear to be showing the Danish, Ireland, Portuguese, and" Jess stopped, realizing a pattern and concluded, "It appears every European Embassy has been blown to kingdom come."

Gus was silent as he considered what it meant, still confident that the United States was not responsible but the longer he thought, the less confident he was. The entire United States and the free world for that matter were completely vulnerable to whoever was behind the attacks. It was as if there was a global sniper able to take whatever shot they wanted at any time while the most powerful country in the world could do nothing about it or even know who was doing the shooting. The whole country was as ignorant and exposed as a fish in a barrel.

Jess looked down at his phone and saw that the connection with Gus had been lost; the cellular networks having been knock-out again. They all sat down and looked at one another in disbelief and shock. Ted broke the silence as he resumed trying to place a puzzle piece of reasoning, "With all the European embassies burning I think we can safely say we have our first glimmer of intent. I think it is obvious that it has to do with the current crisis between Europe and the Middle East and the lack of U.S. commitment."

Following Ted's reasoning Jess added, "I don't think it makes any sense that this was the work of a Middle Eastern country. One would think that the last thing the Middle East wants is U.S. involvement, so why pick a fight with the U.S. even if you are attacking European interests? Surely the attackers know the U.S. will retaliate." Ted then thought of another hypothesis, "Or it could be a European country retaliating against our indecision to throw our hat in the ring with their war or..."

Shay cut off Ted, "Or, it was the United States giving Europe the finger."

Ted and Jess looked at Shay incredulously and then turned to the Transnet display when they realized he was referring to something he was watching. The PubEx channel was airing a live interview with the Vice President.

"While we regret the terrible incidents of today and the unthinkable toll on Hmman life, after great debate and deliberation, the United States of America has carefully chosen to remain completely neutral in both the investigation and punishment of the responsible party or parties. It is the new intent and policy of this Nation to remain neutral in world politics and world conflict."

Jess exploded, "WHAT! On whose authority is he speaking and why isn't this coming from the President? Where the hell is the President?"

Just then all of their phones rang with the same text message, "Emergency session has been called. All senators report at the Capitol immediately!"

Arriving at the Capitol, the entire building was alive and frantic with security, senatorial staffs and admins running in every direction. Ted, Jess and Shay made their way into the Senate Chamber and since the Speaker had resigned, the Vice President was trying to call the room to order but with little success. Most of the Senators were speaking with each other or their staffs but some were pointing fingers at the Vice President and accusing him of treason. Ted, Jess and Shay took their seats and quietly watched, waiting for the Senate to come to order. Suddenly the room went silent; a company of one 100 marines had just entered the room, fully armed with the unmistakable intention to intimidate and show force.

"Thank you Master Sergeant, everyone please be seated and we can begin," said the Vice President. The room was as quiet as it had been 30 minutes before when it was empty. It was no secret the Vice President had always been extremely power hungry and was a shameless opportunist, but seeing him on the Transnet and now taking control of the Senate with a unit of marines was surreal. He was also openly supportive of the Middle Eastern agenda, which was largely ignored or assumed as unimportant by most Americans. Every eye in the room was on the Vice President and it was obvious everyone had seen his latest unauthorized press release and they all sat wondering what else he could possibly do to make matters worse than he already had.

The Vice President was whispering something to a White House Staff member and then turned to face the body of the Senate, "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Senate. The President has just been confirmed dead," he then added almost as an afterthought, "I regret to inform you. He and his entire escort were killed while driving down Massachusetts Avenue on his way to visit the British Embassy site—something he insisted on doing as a show of British support," as an afterthought he added, "a lot of good that has done him."

Whispers and sounds of surprise swirled around the room as the Vice President continued, "I have also just been briefed of the situation and due to the lack of evidence of any kind that might suggest responsibility I felt it best to remain completely neutral lest we offend Europe or the Middle East."

The majority of the senators from the western states were livid and began shouting at the Vice President some calling for his resignation and others for his head. Jess, representing Texas felt he had to join in and stood on his chair, "Mr. Vice President, you have just put us at war with all of Europe. Those embassies are their property, quite literally their country has been bombed on _our_ watch, under _our_ care and you ignorantly think we can claim neutrality." Jess motioned to the marine Master Sergeant, "Sergeant, arrest that baklava-eating bugger!"

The Vice President nodded at the sergeant and he returned a nod in confirmation of his order. The sergeant with two marines walked toward Jess. The room was once again deathly quiet as Jess got down off his chair and watched the three soldiers walk toward him. Jess took his seat thinking they were on their way over to seat him physically. To his surprise and everyone else in the room, the marines pulled Jess from his chair. While one marine held his arms behind his back, the other placed him in handcuffs. Shay rose to his feet in protest but Ted, with a clearer head pulled him back down. The two marines escorted Jess out of the room as all eyes watched in unbelief.

"Does anyone have anything else to add to senator Erdem's remarks?" asked the Vice President. The room was stunned into silence, "I thought that might be the case. Ladies and gentlemen of the Senate, we are navigating through very foreign waters without a pilot and we must be very careful whom we support and whom we alienate. As the acting President I felt it better to alienate no one for now until we uncover who is behind all this, and then we can make the best decision that will offend the least number. I apologize for my last public announcement without consulting this body or the President's Cabinet. I felt the announcement couldn't wait since there is a dangerous rumor on the Transnet stating that the United States had taken responsibility I felt that fire needed to be put out."

There were now cautious whispers in the room commenting that anyone in any position of government would not take such Transnet rumors seriously, except maybe the Middle East who seemed to be always looking for a reason to fight, except this time the rumor benefited them. Most senators believed the Vice President had always been suspect and it was obvious that the he was not acting in the best interest of the country or its allies, but to contradict him now was futile. Ted and Shay like the majority of the senators who disagreed with the Vice President resolved to fold and live to fight another day—that is, until the Vice President continued, "Now out of legal precedent, the official position of the neutrality of the United States must be put to vote by this body—those who say yeah?"

Shay looked at Ted who was more senior than himself as to what they should do. Ted was equally at a loss. How could they agree to such a position and divide the free world, and on a personal level, what would happen to them if they went against the Vice President? The entire Senate Chamber sat in a quiet confusion as each senator struggled with the weight of the decision. Just then the senator from Virginia spoke, "Mr. Vice President, should we not debate such an important decision before taking a vote?"

Annoyed but maintaining his composure, the Vice President responded, "Thank you senator for stating standard policy and in any other circumstance I would agree. Regrettably we are not operating under standard procedures. The United States has already given the world our position; this vote is only a formality."

The room was again quiet as hands in the affirmative slowly began to rise, starting with the most liberal senators and progressing to the middle. Shay looked at Ted now in a panic. There was no way he was going to vote in the affirmative but to vote otherwise could result in an escort to–where ever they took Jess, probably a jail cell. Ted leaned over to Shay and whispered, "We cannot oppose. It appears it is going to pass without our vote anyway, but I morally cannot bring myself to agree. The only option we have is to be absent. Our votes will be counted as yeah but at least it will not be by our own hand. Shay nodded in agreement.

Ted and Shay rather than vote, got up and walked out of the Senate Chamber as did several other senators following their lead. The Sergeant looked at the Vice President for direction and orders and the Vice President motioned to just let them leave as he took notes of which senators disrespected and openly opposed him.

Ted and Shay walked to Shay's office since it was the furthest from the Senate Chamber where they could hopefully go unnoticed. Entering his office he saw most of his staff still there at 11:00 p.m. He told them they could all go and that they would resume in the morning. Shay and Ted walked into his office and shut the door. Shay flung himself into his desk chair and Ted did the same on the sofa as they both let out a sigh and said nothing. Shay looked at a picture of his grandfather on his desk and lamented, "For the first time I think know how my grandfather felt about living in a country he loved and feared."

Lying on the sofa while looking at the ceiling Ted said, "I think we now know what happened to the Speaker. Anyone who opposes the agenda goes missing. Gus was first on the list and the more I think about his assassination attempt the more I believe his survival was an accident."

Shay considered Ted's analysis and agreed, "Toprak has been planning this for a very long time. I mean, what were you doing 10 years ago? I don't know about you but I wasn't planning a hostile world take over–I wasn't even thinking about the world."

Despair was settling on the room like a wet blanket, paralyzing action both mental and physical. For a long time Ted and Shay said nothing and sat in the darkness of the room, with the lights of Washington infiltrating through the window. Struggling, Ted lamented, "I've always been able to think my way through life but now–I don't even know what to think."

"You know, it's strange. I used to hear my grandfather talk about World War II and I remember how foreign war was to me then. The United States hasn't known war like that for a hundred years. Korea, Vietnam, Desert Storm – they were nothing in comparison. I used to think that people like my grandfather were different; like they were somehow more courageous or less selfish, always acting for the greater good."

Outside the window, distant sirens could be heard as emergency vehicles raced to and from Massachusetts Avenue. Shay continued, "Sitting here in the dark listening to the world outside burn to ashes, I realize my grandfather was just like me; scared, powerless and alone. Except,"

Shay didn't finish his thought and there was a long pause in the darkness. Finally Ted said, "Except what?"

"Except he somehow _found_ resolve and determination, fortitude. He fought back with all his might–and against his old homeland of all things."

"I thought your grandfather was imprisoned or detained in Honolulu during the war?"

"He was, but toward the end–the last year or so–they allowed certain Japanese to work and assist the war effort. My grandfather was part of a work gang for various projects and clean-up efforts. He completely disagreed with what Imperial Japan had done and he saw the work gang as his way to fight for freedom. He was such a hard worker and patriot he was awarded a medal. It was unofficial of course. The medal was hand made by a navy officer out of a Coke bottle cap and some ribbon. Officer Redding I think was his name. He also gave him a certificate that recognized him for outstanding valor and patriotism; it was awarded in the officer's private office, completely off the record. My grandfather cherished that award all his life. He loved this country and would have laid down his life for it without a thought."

"That is a great story. There is an old book called _The Greatest Generation_ that showcased war stories and examples of valor that frankly I thought were rather pompous when I read it. It was written only one generation after World War II and therefore seemed to be the romantic ranting of sons for their fathers—but sitting here, being thrown into World War III, I think they _were_ the greatest generation up to that point. Previous to that the greatest generation was their fathers who fought in World War I, previous to that, the generation of the last major crisis. Circumstances make people great–the greater the tragedy, the greater the resolve. Left to ourselves, unchallenged and un-bruised, we Hmmans really are a filthy lot full of entitlement, unbridled lusts and mall-wondering egos. You know, I saw on the Transnet last week two women who were fighting over the last article of clothing at a store sale and one woman threw the other over a railing to her death. You know what the greatest tragedy of that incident was?"

"What is that?"

"No one was outraged by it, didn't even make it to PubEx," said Ted disgusted.

Shay got up and looked out the window, "America is indeed a filthy place. I feel like I have awoken from a dream and even though Washington is the only city burning at the moment, I feel like the entire nation is already in ruins."

Shay was well read in U.S. history and he reflected on the night John Hancock stood on the outskirts of Boston during a terrible night of war. Looking out his window tonight, the scene was the same and Shay quoted John Hancock's words out loud, "Burn Boston burn. Though it makes John Hancock a beggar—if the public good requires it."

Shay turned from the window to face Ted, "I'm sure you know this, but the founding fathers were not poor men. Most of them were wealthy land owners and very prosperous, they had everything to lose in the American Revolution. About half of them died during the war and the other half died nearly penniless. I've always admired John Hancock. He was very arrogant and brash as is evident from his large signature on the Declaration, but he was committed to freedom and the dream of America. He was also the wealthiest of all men in America at that time. The war cost him everything and he died a pauper—for me, for us, for all of us."

Ted and Shay sat for a little while longer in the dark neither of them speaking. They both knew their lives would forever be different and that their personal lives now mattered very little. Like many generations before them, their lot had been cast to make a difference in the fight for freedom however they could. Neither knew what lay in store–reluctantly but with moral resolve they both slowly began to accept the world of war they now lived in and they both privately pledged their lives to effect change.

Ted sat up on the sofa and then stood. Shay looked at him and asked, "Where are you going?"

"To find Jess and then getting the hell out of Washington–you coming?"

Shay sighed and nodded. He then threw a few necessities from his office into a bag and they both walked out of Shay's office. Shay noticed a light still on down the hall and wondered why any of his staff was still here. He walked down to find Enakai, his new intern busily working on something on her computer. "Well, I am very impressed Enakai but we don't pay overtime here I'm afraid," he said joking. Enakai told him she was catching up on a few things and was just leaving as she collected her purse and hurried out the main office door.

Shay turned off the remaining lights and set the alarm. The outside hall was dark and the Capitol was mostly quiet. Only a few faint voices could be heard in an obscure corridor. Pulling the door shut Shay heard Ted stumble, fall and call out, "What the hell?"

Shay wasn't sure where the light switch was since the Capitol lights were usually always on, so rather than look for one, he cautiously walked toward Ted scooting his feet. He felt his right foot touch something and lifting his foot, feeling around it felt like—a body! "Ted, are you OK?"

"I'm fine," Shay heard him say noticing his voice coming from further ahead of him down the hall.

Having the same thought, they both took out their phones and used them as a portable light source. Shining the light in between them on the floor they first noticed a very large pool of blood then a body, then another. As their eyes grew accustom to the dim light, they could tell the bodies were wearing camo and were marines. Their weapons were both still lying there on the floor and upon more observation they saw their uniforms were torn in many places and each had what looked like a large bite on the neck. Blood was still oozing from the gaping holes, exposing torn vocal cords and broken vertebrae.

Shay, with composure that surprised even him responded to the scene of horror, "I've seen this kind of work before... we have another harbinger among us."

Ted bent down and started going through one of the marine's pockets. "What are you doing?" asked Shay.

"Looking for extra magazines, we're going to need all the ammunition we can get." Having found two extra magazines on the first marine Ted picked up an M27 rifle and a Beretta, stuck it in his pants then looked at Shay, "coming?"

Shay did the same and they both walked out of the building quietly being careful not to be seen, especially since they were now heavily armed and being so was against the law. They made their way across Constitution Avenue and into the darkness of the city toward Ted's townhouse in Georgetown. It was a several mile walk and once they both felt safer at least for the moment Ted began to whisper.

"I'm guessing those marines were coming for us, but why would a harbinger protect us?"

"I don't think it was protecting us by any means, Abdul was like an animal and incapable of rational or strategic thought. I think they surprised the harbinger and it attacked in self-defense. We are just the fortunate recipients of a harbinger's unbridled aggression."

"That makes more sense, but what's curious to me is why didn't your new intern trip on the marines like I did?"

# Chapter 9

Veronica sat in the royal monorail car at Victoria Station in London waiting for the final dispatch to the secure Buckingham Palace rail stop. Only special royal monorail cars with proper security clearance could be dispatched to the Buckingham Palace stop three stories under the palace. The ride from Oxford was a very quick 24 minute ride thanks to the new monorail system. During the 30s, most of the London Tube and train system was replaced with an ultra-fast monorail that could travel at 250 miles per hour in the country, and with the new rail stop under the palace, royal visitors could be dispatched from almost anywhere in the country directly to the palace and other government buildings quickly and securely. The royal monorail was over-the-top elegant like everything else royal in England, decorated in rich red and navy blue velvets, and gold leaf everywhere.

Nothing escaped the notice of the Crown in England and it was known that Gus and his companions arrived in England without baggage. Shortly after the royal emissaries left the hotel, a royal valet arrived with clothing for Gus, Matt and Veronica that was suitable for a royal meal at the palace in the presence of the King. The clothing was perfect fitting of course and it seemed that not even a dress size was missed by the Crown. Veronica sat waiting in an elegant and very formal, scarlet taffeta gown made of pure silk. It had an overlay of nearly transparent silk tulle that made the dress glow in bright light. The empire waist of the gown fit her figure perfectly and was enhanced with onyx stones which elegantly accented the sweetheart neckline. The dress was both sleeveless and backless and she never felt more beautiful or perfectly dressed in her life. She couldn't help but wonder how much the dress she was wearing cost and while she was not a fashion expert she guessed somewhere around 8,000 GD at least.

Matt and Gus were also looking very smart in traditional black tuxedos with full tails but with a modern lapel cut accented in black silk. Veronica caught Matt's glance more than a dozen times during the trip and on a couple of occasions their eyes met and they both nervously smiled. Veronica couldn't help thinking back to a year ago, graduating from college and landing a job in Gus's office. It was her dream job and she couldn't imagine things getting any better. Yet, here she was, getting ready to walk into Buckingham Palace to dine with the King of England. She inwardly smiled almost forgetting the dire circumstances they were under. Just then the monorail began to move and within a few minutes they stopped and an armed escort met them as the doors opened.

Before proceeding upstairs to the palace proper, they were briefed as to how the evening would progress, the acceptable etiquette and the seating assignments. Once the royal formalities were in place, they proceeded up the Grand Staircase to the Blue Drawing Room and waited to be invited into the State Dining Room. The magnificence of the room was unlike anything Veronica or Matt had ever seen. They couldn't help turning in circles trying to keep their mouths closed instead of wide open in amazement. Everywhere they looked was an amazing display of hand carved and hand painted elegance accented with marble columns. Veronica took a seat on a blue silk sofa as her dress elegantly flowed across the entire seat and encircled around her on the floor. She knew it was trite and perhaps even tacky to think but she couldn't help but feel like a princess. Sitting in such opulence and dressed to the nines affected her in a way she was not prepared for, but it was more than just being wrapped in elegance. Veronica felt nobleness come over her in a way that spoke of duty, steadfastness and a power she had never known.

She reflected that while Buckingham Palace was only 200 years old, mother England herself was over one thousand years old and had never been conquered—ever. Reflecting further as to why they were there, she realized she was about to participate—however slightly—in its very long and very rich history dating all the way back to King Alfred in 871. Being a student of European history, Veronica felt as if she taken a time machine to the palace not a monorail and she sat very satisfied.

During the royal briefing, it was explicitly understood that there would be no discussion of any topic that was not first initiated by the King or a member of the King's Council. Consequently, the royal dinner was spent in light conversation and triviality, which was extremely frustrating for Matthew. On more than one occasion Gus has to remind him he must keep his peace until asked otherwise. Matt was amazed such formality was still conformed to in such a modern age but he couldn't deny that there was something about it that made him feel clear-minded and more determined and calculated.

Veronica leaned over to Gus and asked if it was usual for so many armed guards. They were surrounding the room in addition to the many footmen attending the table. Looking around casually so as to not be conspicuous, Gus replied, "I think not, it is probably due to the fact England is in a state of war at the moment—or near war."

Every guard was dressed in very traditional and regal uniforms similar to the emissaries that visited the hotel but with unmistakable and very impressive military styling. Each soldier carried a high powered rifle and a handgun in a shoulder holster. The setting was like that out of a fairytale and Veronica found it difficult to fight back a smile that defiantly kept returning to her face.

Once the multi-course meal was completed, they were escorted back into the Blue Drawing Room where other English dignitaries joined them. A large round table had been set up and they were all invited to sit. Gus was seated next to the King followed by Matt and on the Kings left, Veronica was invited to sit. She nervously sat down as a footman helped her with her chair. She thanked the footman and as she turned to face the table, the King whispered to her, "You look lovely my dear." For the first time in Veronica's life, she blushed without first being embarrassed or angry. She turned to the King and responded with a grateful nod, "Thank you your Majesty," being inwardly very happy she used the correct title and didn't botch-up the first words she spoke to the King of England.

Veronica was the only woman in the room and she shined as if she was sitting in the bright sun and her dress was made of pearls. She caught glances, smiles and nods from every man in the room and if she were any less practically-minded she might have started to cry. She thought to herself, "Every woman in the world needs to feel what this is like."

The King cleared his throat and began to speak, "Thank you once again Senators and my Lady for seeing me this evening. I imagine you have heard the terrible news of the additional bombings in Washington this evening since we do know Senator Guiscard that you made a call to some of your friends in the Senate?"

"That is correct Your Majesty, however I lost the connection only seconds after I heard several additional embassies were destroyed."

The King nodded to one of his council members, signaling him to inform Gus and Matt of the additional bombings. An aged and very wise-looking gentleman nodded to the King and then turned to Gus, "Our information is still rather spotty but what we do know is reliable. It seems every European embassy has been destroyed in Washington, twenty-one in total. According to rumors on the Transnet the United States is responsible; however we are very skeptical of it and will not believe it until we get confirmation from your government."

Gus nodded, in a thankful manner and was about to speak when he saw the King turn to him directly, placing his hand on his shoulder, "We are assuming you are also not aware that your President was killed in the recent bombings?"

Veronica gasped and held her hand to her mouth and Gus replied in alarm, "No, I was not aware—how, and what was he doing on Embassy Row?"

The King turning from side to side addressing both Gus and Matt on one side and Veronica on the other continued, "It is still somewhat unclear but he appears to have been visiting our embassy site and was caught in one of the many blasts along Embassy Row. I wish that were the end of the bad news but I'm afraid I must rent your heart once more. Your Vice President has lost no time assuming the U.S. throne—so to speak—in an ugly display of abused power." It was obviously no secret to even foreigners that the Vice President of the United States was usurper waiting for his time.

Matt was not able to control his royal etiquette any longer and he belted out, "That son-of-a-bitch!" Every eye turned to him in surprise and he quickly recovered his usual unbridled fervor, "My apologies your Majesty."

The King smiled and responded reassuringly, "No apology needed Matthew, if I may address you so casually."

"Please do," said Matt smiling in relief.

"You need not worry about etiquette here, now that we are talking candidly about some very upsetting matters. However, we do have a Lady present and I would request we keep her in mind."

"Of course Your Majesty," said Matt as he acknowledged Veronica formally, "My apologies to you," he nodded to Veronica and after pausing slightly added, "my Lady."

Veronica blushed again and smiled in respectful acknowledgement as her eyes locked with Matt's for several moments. _This is ridiculous_ , she thought, _I feel like I'm on a first date_.

The King continued, "Your Vice President issued a public address minutes after the secondary explosions stating that the United States was claiming neutrality on both the investigation and punishment of the attacks. He further stated that a neutral position was now the official position of the United States in all current and future world affairs that did not directly affect them."

Matt shook his head in disgust as Gus tried to reassure the King, "I am very certain this position was not ratified by the Senate which is mandatory according to our law. However, the fact that he announced such a thing is very troubling to me. I am assuming the worst in what I am about to say but it appears there is a coup afoot in the U.S."

Veronica put her hand to her mouth but did not make a sound as Gus continued, "Unfortunately it explains all of today's events. I hate to think what is happening over there right now and what has happened to both Houses of Congress. If it is progressing like all other coups in history it begins somewhat peacefully until others oppose then the military steps in to silence the trouble makers."

"Like Ted, Jess and Shay," said Matt shaking his head with worry.

Gus nodded in agreement as the King turned to Matt and asked, "Whom?"

Gus answered for Matt, "Our colleagues in the Senate; when last we spoke they were safe but," Gus paused choosing his next words, "let's just say they are not made of the kind of cloth that irons easily if you know what I infer?"

Matt laughed slightly and smiled at Gus's choice of words. The King nodded, "Indeed I do." All eyes were on the King as he sat deep in thought at what Gus had said, marveling that such a thing could happen in the United States, the home of the free, land of the brave. Still trying to fit Gus's comments into a mental schema that he could accept the King continued, "Do you think there is military involvement at this early hour of the coup?"

Gus looked at Matt and Veronica, garnering non-verbal support of what he was about to say. "I struggle with the thought as I can tell you do as well. Let me shed some light on the state of affairs in the U.S. at the moment as best I can without flirting with treason. Having the leadership of our country change every four to eight years has its benefits but those benefits come with a cost. Sadly, federal elections in our country have turned into a contest for lazy opportunists to get on the gravy train. After a single year in office, all of the federally elected enjoy a life-long stipend so I'm sure you can imagine the type of avaricious vermin it attracts. Both Houses are over-run with these types and I'm rather certain that in a crisis such as this they will quickly fold, which is why we fear for our friends."

Gus paused slightly thinking about Ted, Jess and Shay and how they would respond to a coup, "However, Ted is rather clear-minded in a crisis and Jess tends to find the high road in all conflict unless it is about God or Texas."

The Blue Drawing Room grew quiet as the weight of the situation descended on everyone like an acrid smell wafting around the table. The King was a leader and renowned for shrewd tact. As he sat contemplating the hydra his country faced, the crisis with many heads that consisted first and foremost of his country's impending war with the Middle East followed by the Minimum effects and now their greatest ally and friend crumbling to pieces. As he saw it, each crisis alone was potentially devastating to his country but all three would require drastic and decisive actions immediately. Formulating an initial plan, the King turned to Gus for confirmation, "Are you fairly certain Senator that your Vice President will have his way with Congress?"

Gus sighed in both disgust and disbelief, "yes, Your Majesty," then looked at Matt for confirmation and Matt responded with an equally disgusted nod.

The King stared straight forward, lost in thought and cunning contemplation. From Veronica's perspective she thought she could see the King staring deep into a large painted portrait at the end of the drawing room that was over twelve feet high and eight feet across. The painting was obviously a royal ancestor of some sort but she couldn't make out who it was. The painting depicted a king on a battlefield standing triumphantly in leathern armor with a shield in his left hand, resting on the ground. He had a red cape draped over his left shoulder that flowed behind him. In his right hand he held his sword high above his head, but not with the blade pointing heavenward as in conquest. He held the blade itself just under the hilt with the sword pointing downward showing the unmistakable sign of the cross. It was very obvious that the painting depicted victory after a great battle, but the king was claiming victory for his country on behalf of God. The painting was stunning and drew the admirer into another place and time where virtue was power and honor was the breath of all life. Veronica was drawn in just as the King was and out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw the King look at her.

Breaking her lock on the painting she turned to face the King, "Powerful is it not?" asked the King as he felt Veronica sharing in his mental vision within the painting.

Veronica looked intently into the King's eyes still sharing in his vision and sharing in what he absorbed from the painting, "It is indeed your Majesty," she said nodding respectfully. What she learned from staring at the painting with the King in those few moments could fill many pages of new understanding and new moral convictions. Veronica was never unreligious but like most of America, God and religion was passive in her life and she never considered it was more than just an ideal and social orientation, but looking at the painting, lost in the King's vision she understood. Selfish ambition and vain conquest was hollow and cancerous to the soul and no matter how grand the victory could never satisfy the eternal need for peace.

The more Veronica stared at the painting and understood its meaning she concluded the king must be Alfred the Great; the first king of all of England who drove the Vikings out of his country after years of Viking occupation and innumerable bitter, bloody battles. The Vikings would be driven back by King Alfred only to return again attacking unsuspecting peasant villages, raping and then hanging everyone who survived the battle. Veronica was lost again in the painting. King Alfred's victory was a victory for righteousness and while it was his and his countrymen's blood that was spilt, the glory was to God and His kingdom and they, the grateful recipients of His goodness, His power, His deliverance and His eternal peace.

Just then Veronica felt alone in the shared vision of the painting as the King shifted his attention and began to announce his plan to the group, "Great leaders throughout history were only great because that which was required of them was great. I can think of no other time in history where so much was required of so few." The King looked around the table making sure to make eye contact with everyone then continued, "I am certain we will gain many more to our ranks but this group shall form the core of what I will call _In Spem de Mundo_. The title is ominous I know but it most accurately frames our charge and our sacred duty as we are part of a very small number who see things as they truly are."

Matt was at a total loss with the Latin title the King just conferred upon the group and Gus, knowing Matt did not speak Latin, he leaned over and whispered so quietly that Matt could barely hear, "The Hope of the World." Matt being very unprepared and uncomfortable with such a title turned to look at Gus with narrowed eyes wondering if he had heard him correctly. Gus just nodded slightly in return.

The King got up and walked around the table as he spoke, "The first item of business for this core is to determine who is with us, whom we can trust and whom we must..." then the King stopped to choose his words more carefully. Instead of using the word "fear" he reconsidered and said, "despise. Senator Guiscard, I would like you and Senator Hector to return to the United States with the goal of providing us with accurate intelligence of the situation there. Carefully rally all you can and await further instructions. Lady Veronica, I would like you to be my guest and under my protective care at Kensington Palace—at least until we have a better understanding of things. The majority of that royal residence is vacant and I'm sure you will be quite comfortable."

Veronica took a quick look at Gus and then looking back at the King she nodded respectfully. Gus was nervously waiting for Matt to have an extreme objection to the King's proposal and make a fool of himself as the King assumed command and complete authority over three U.S. citizens. He turned to look at Matt afraid of the look that he would find on his face but to his surprise, Matt was eager and focused. Matt, catching Gus's glance looked at him and smiled as if he were just given a promotion.

Gus had secretly maintained dual citizenship in the U.K. so the King was technically already his sovereign and he had no problems with the King's authority. As for Veronica, it wasn't hard to see that Lady Veronica was already at peace with her new title and change of residence. According to royal etiquette and State law, in order for Veronica to reside at a royal residence she had to be royally connected somehow so her new title was only a formality or so Gus thought.

The King was on his second lap around the table as he continued, "The hour is quite late so let us finalize our initial plans. Senators, I would prefer to fly you back to the United States in my private atmoscraft but that would arouse much suspicion I'm afraid. I will therefore book passage for you on a public British Airways flight and send a small detachment of my personal guard to attend you—in plain clothes of course. I will also send an empty seat back to the States for Lady Veronica so her location will be unknown. Before you leave tomorrow, I will have a car pick you all up from the lodgings I have secured for you here in London and we shall have a private investiture and luncheon."

The King started to make his way to the door but then stopped and turned to Gus, "Senator Guiscard, as far as the British Crown is concerned, you are the only trusted dignitary of the United States—at least until we can trust otherwise."

Gus was greatly taken aback and responded almost choking, "Yes your Majesty, as you wish—of course."

* * *

Arriving at their new lodgings in London which were royally furnished with every luxury including a new wardrobe for each of them appropriate for the next day's activities, Matt turned to Gus when it was finally acceptable to speak freely, "So, I understand what to expect with a luncheon but what is a private investiture?"

Pulling at his bowtie and unbuttoning the first button of his shirt, Gus sat down, exhausted. Not from the physical activities of the day but the mental and emotional ones. He had left the United States as a senator looking for answers to returning as a spy in just a few days. What was most unsettling for Gus was where he should place his allegiance. If the U.S. was in fact imploding—as it appeared to be—he would claim English citizenship, but what did that mean for Matt and Veronica? He hated the thought of defecting to the side that only appeared to have better odds of winning. Ever since he left the palace he struggled with his own patriotism and his duty as a U.S. Senator. He had to keep reminding himself that the world was not the same as it was a month ago and that the current crisis was no longer about countries or even about Kings and Presidents. It was about freedom versus slavery, honor versus disgrace and good versus evil. From that perspective he convinced himself that it was no longer important what nationality he was or the citizenship he claimed, the only thing that mattered was that he was on the right side.

Gus turned to Matt, "An investiture of course is an initiation of sorts, however what that has to do with us and what we can expect tomorrow is anyone's guess. England has always been the land of formality so I suspect we will simply be asked to make allegiances to the King in this new committee we have been placed on, nothing more."

Taking Gus's cue, Matt pulled off his bowtie and snapped it in the air making a loud crack, "You know Gus, I'm okay with it. I joined the Senate because I wanted to serve something bigger than myself and effect important change. I quit playing professional football after I realized it was just a game. I know that sounds a little stupid since it _is_ a game but when you're young, it's more than that and it was incredibly gratifying to be a part of something that beat the enemy and conquered every week. After winning a championship and after my injury healed, I could have gone back to play but that's when I realized I was an actor and the battle I was fighting was meaningless."

Matt took a chair next to Gus and continued, "My time in the Senate has followed a similar path—as I'm sure you've noticed—I've become a little cynical over it. I wasn't in the Senate long before I noticed that I was surrounded by actors pretending to be something they were not. I didn't find any honor or love of duty in the Senate, the greatest body of government in the world."

Matt sat up and leaned on his knees, "But this, _this_ is what I joined the Senate for—a chance to be on the right team and to fight real enemies and conquer something that won't be forgotten next season. Whatever we do tomorrow and the rest of my life, I'm ready." He slid back into his chair, "I've never been more ready for anything in my life."

Gus looked at Matt intently, "You are an inspiration. It is an honor to know such a man as Matthew Hector or that any such man exists in the world today."

At 10:30 in the morning a car arrived and to everyone's great surprise they were escorted to Westminster Abby in the center of London. They Entered from the west Jewel Tower and were then escorted into the Pyx Chapel which Veronica knew was the oldest part of the Abby built in 1055 by the Saxons.

The entrance to the chapel was made through a small gothic-arched door made of very thick English oak with an overlay of heavy lattice on a grid of ironwork. The ceiling was low compared to the rest of the abbey with even lower stone arches that rose up every 15 feet from the chapel floor. The room was damp and lit very subtlety with floor lighting in the corners. The entire chapel was made of a light-colored limestone and the floor was a pave work of hand fired bricks. They felt as if they had gone back in time since the chapel has remained largely unmodified for nearly one thousand years.

They were directed to sit on small wooden pews in front of a small stone alter with a wooden crucifix upon it. Gus, Matt and Veronica sat very confused looking at one another as the door behind them opened and they heard the announcement, "The King!" Gus, being English immediately stood as if he had heard the National Anthem and he motioned Matt and Veronica to stand also. Other English dignitaries filed into the small chapel and the meeting was quickly underway.

The King himself conducted the meeting and after thanking everyone for being present he spoke directly to Gus, Matt and Veronica. "Thank you my friends for your loyalty and your stalwart souls. The backbone of England has always been founded on truth, goodness, wisdom, justice and love—and loyal men and women committed to those ideals. Without proper commitment and an outward manifestation of that commitment, we forget ourselves when we are apart and in the world. Therefore, today let us commit ourselves to our duties and to each other in the most important undertaking of this millennium. The best and perhaps only way to do this, in my country is to bestow title and loyalties."

The King stretched out his hand to Gus, "Leroy Guiscard, I invite you this day and forever more to be Lord Guiscard, loyal to the Crown of England and my trusted advisor and true friend."

Gus was without words to express his surprise. The night before he had only anticipated signing a document and a handshake. This was not only unexpected but unprecedented. There had only been five Lords created in the last one 100 years in England and he would be the sixth. The honor was a little over whelming and he couldn't help but smile inwardly at his father's comment only a few days ago accusing him of no longer being English.

Gus got up as he was invited and kneeled before the King and bowed his head in agreement and respect, and respectfully said, "Your Majesty." The King presented him with the royal insignia of Lordship and rising, the King broke from the formalities of the ceremony and gave Gus a handshake and a one armed embrace with a closed fist pounding lightly on Gus's back. Recovering from his surprise, Gus did the same.

The King then stretched out his hand and invited Matt to kneel before him. To Gus and Veronica's surprise he stood and walked to the front of the chapel very dignified and without any wisecrack or complaint. "Matthew Hector our God has endowed you with great strength and unyielding power. I therefore invite you to be our champion and accept the honor of knighthood after the order of _In Spem_ (The Hope)."

Matthew bowed his head, following Gus's example, "Your Majesty."

The King drew a sword from off the altar and then with his other hand smote Matthew across the face with great force according to the ancient custom of bestowing an accolade. Gus and Veronica were shocked—first at the King's actions and then even more at Matt's unflinching and noble demeanor. Matt didn't even raise his head or appear alarmed. Veronica then remembered that the box, as it was called or the act of being smote across the face was intended to instill the memory of knighthood with pain so that the knight never forgot his calling. The King then gently dubbed him as Sir Matthew Hector as he placed the sword blade on each shoulder and presented him with the royal insignia around his neck.

The meeting concluded and they were then all transported to Kensington Palace for luncheon which was also to be Veronica's new living quarters. Though she didn't say anything or outwardly express her disappointment, she was secretly hurt over the events in the Pyx Chapel that she was not given any honors and even worse that she seemed to be excluded from the _In Spem de Mundo_ group altogether. She resented being sidelined and quarantined in a royal residence, little more than a political prisoner she thought. After Gus and Matt left to catch their flight back to the States, Veronica was escorted to her new apartment and she meet several members of the house staff that would be her attendants. The accommodations were lavish and beautiful of course, with every need and luxury accounted for.

Alone after her orientation to the house and meeting several dozen members of the staff whose names she knew she would never remember, she flung herself in a window side chair in her room and looked out on to the meticulously groomed grounds below. She took a very deep and depressed sigh and said out loud, "So Mary Queen of Scots, it appears we are sisters—imprisoned in luxury in a foreign country. I do hope my fate fares better than yours."

Queen Mary was a political prisoner and cousin of Queen Elizabeth in the 17th century. Mary was an annoyance to Elizabeth since she sought to steal her crown and claimed that the throne of England belonged to her. Being Elizabeth's cousin and having royal blood flowing through her veins, Elizabeth couldn't bring herself to dispose of her so she kept her imprisoned in many different castles in England most of her adult life. In the end however, Mary was not content to live out her life deprived of what she thought was rightfully hers and strategized several plots to overthrow Elizabeth. At the pressure of her advisors Elizabeth finally agreed to have Mary imprisoned and then beheaded in the Tower of London.

Veronica heard a voice from behind her in her room, "Excuse me my Lady?"

Veronica turned around in surprise, thinking she was alone. One of her attendants was hanging new towels in her bath and heard Veronica speak as she was about to leave her room.

"Oh, it's nothing," said Veronica as she paused slightly, "It's bloody nothing at all," as she was feeling more slighted and abandoned by the minute. She thought about venting her frustrations to her maid but then thought better of it, "Thank you," she said.

The maid curtsied respectfully, nodded and left the room. Turning back to the window Veronica sighed as a tear rolled down her cheek. She hated being treated as though she were fragile and too delicate to be of any real service. More than that, she felt alone, very alone in a foreign country surrounded by strangers with thick accents. She already missed Gus and Matt and she worried about them and the hailstorm they were about to walk into in Washington. She thought about her friends Ted, Jess and Shay, and how they were dealing with the crisis and the Vice President. Trying to piece together the events in her mind and imagining how everything went down a few days ago after the embassy bombings she was very glad Matt was not in Washington. She could see him picking a fight with the Vice President himself. One thing was certain in her mind and that was Ted, Jess and Shay were not that reckless and she was certain they were all safe.

Just then she heard a knock at her door and she replied, "Come in."

The door opened and a middle aged woman she had not met entered the room. She curtsied and introduced herself as Corinna Durst her main attendant. She apologized for not being present when Veronica first arrived and said she had just returned from meeting with the Duke of Devonshire.

Veronica was growing a little tired of the formality; after all she was an American not a bloody princess, "It's alright, and you need not be so formal with me. I'm just a girl from Berkley, California."

Corinna looked at Veronica confused but being in the service of the royal family most of her life she responded, "My Lady?"

Veronica shook her head as if trying to wake up from a stupid dream and sighed, "Whatever."

Corinna knew why Veronica was frustrated. She could tell that she had been crying and even though she had asked not to be addressed formally, Corinna could not violate the royal statues, "My Lady, can I bring you anything? We will be having dinner in the main dining room in an hour's time with the entire house."

Veronica was spent and the last thing she needed or wanted was a large formal dinner with strangers, "Oh, please, I can't, not tonight. Can I please be excused this evening? I will just take something light here in my room."

"Of course you can," said Corinna in a very endearing tone and then continued, "before you retire for the day my Lady, the Duke of Devonshire will be here presently to meet with you on some important matters."

"Oh, what does he want?" Veronica was irritated and couldn't see any reason to meet with anyone and couldn't understand why she was of any importance to the Crown, "I am in trouble?"

Corinna smiled in amusement and then paused slightly considering what she was about to say, attempting to lighten the feeling in the room, "Of course not my Lady. You have a fire in your soul that is warming and comforting, if you don't mind my saying."

Someone with a fire in their soul, thought Veronica. That is usually not a complement, "Excuse me?"

"Very sorry my Lady, but your fire, your strength is comforting like standing next to a large fire in winter, when there are storms all about and there is safety in doors, that's all."

"What do you know of the storms in the world Corinna?" asked Veronica in surprise learning that her Hmmble maid knew more than she was telling.

"The Duke of Devonshire will be here soon and he will answer your questions and," Corinna paused wondering how much she could tell Veronica, "you will be much the wiser and more comfortable here my Lady."

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation and they heard a voice from without, "Duke Devonshire here to see you my Lady."

Veronica started to leave the room when she turned to Corinna and asked, "Are you coming?"

"It wouldn't be proper my Lady," said Corinna as she curtsied.

Veronica sighed still being frustrated with the formalities. The truth was, she liked Corinna and since she had no idea what she was about to walk into, Corinna was the closest thing she had to a friend and she didn't want to be alone. Veronica was escorted down the main corridor stairs and down to a drawing room where she was introduced to the Duke of Devonshire. Once the doors were closed, the Duke become more casual and leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs.

He smiled at Veronica, "I suppose you are wondering why you are here?"

Veronica was still frustrated and was getting to the point where she didn't care so much if she offended anyone, "Oh, I think I get it. My country is falling apart, my friends have been sent into the eye of the storm and I'm to be protected here for some reason. I guess we can start with that—yes, why am I here Mr. Duke."

The Duke smiled, equally enjoying Veronica's fire, "The British Crown makes the world its business much like your country used to do back in the day. I'm not sure if you are aware but you might be since you have a degree in European history. Genealogy and the tracing of blood lines are very important to us English, but never so much as it has been in the past 10 years."

Veronica looked at the Duke surprised and then puzzled. Over the past few weeks she learned to pay close attention when timelines of the past 10 years were thrown around since that was the true beginning of the Minimum.

The Duke sensed her surprise, "Yes, we have known about the Minimum. Almost 10 years ago, we thought we and Toprak Esir were the only ones who were going to notice it until it was too late for the rest of the world. So when you and your friends showed up unannounced in Oxford we were pleased."

Veronica was still confused, "So why not come to us if you knew 10 years ago and you knew about Toprak?"

The Duke smiled and then laughed slightly, "And what in St. Peter's name would we have said that would not make you think we were blithering idiots on this side of the pond? Besides, your scientists were aware of a potential minimum and had observed the decreased flares but what they didn't know and still don't are the effects."

The Duke sat up and leaned over slightly, "But that's not what I'm here to talk about, there will be time for that later. Before you feel imprisoned here a moment longer you need to know who you are."

Veronica was confused again, "Who I am? You speak as if you know something I don't."

"Hmmanity is an amazing thing, truly fascinating how people and circumstances come together so often at just the right time, but being a student of history I'm sure you have noticed this."

Veronica had never considered it. She just assumed that things happened the way they did due to men and women stepping up and showing courage. However, she just nodded in agreement so the Duke would continue.

"Before any of this will make any sense, I need to give you a short history lesson. Ever since the English revolutions starting in 1642, the aristocracy of England has been diluted and completely abolished in some cases and locations. As I'm sure you know, English titles are handed down generationally with specific rules and when a blood line dies out, the King has the right to bestow the title to another completely of his choosing."

Veronica nodded.

"Due to the Minimum and the eventual effects it will have on the planet—most of them we still do not know—the Crown has determined it important that we try to reassemble the royal aristocracy as best we can from the scattered blood lines around the world. We have a gifted scientist in a foreign country who can determine blood line origins and you showed up on our radar so-to-speak about three weeks ago. Of course we were very delighted when you showed up in Oxford, giftwrapped."

"How did I show up on your blood radar?" asked Veronica.

"As I understand it, you had a brush with death not long ago and from the incident we obtained a blood sample, quite by accident actually as I have been told. Amazing how things fall together isn't it?"

"So what—I am a long lost cousin of the King or something?" said Veronica trying to put it all together in her mind.

The Duke smiled, "No, you are—a relative to be sure—but it is very distant or so I have been told. Veronica my dear, you are very fortunate. You are of pure Anglo-Saxon ancestry, very rare indeed in this melting pot world we live in. In fact we have been told it is the most pure we have ever encountered in over 10 years. In fact, you are more entitled to the British aristocracy than even I am," said the Duke laughing.

"So—that is why the King called me Lady Veronica yesterday, I thought he was just flirting in a professional, royal sort of way."

Helping Veronica close the loop the Duke added, "And also why this morning you were not included in the accolades. Lord Guiscard was only formally..." the Duke stopped and bit his lip.

When he didn't continue, Veronica tilted her head and looked at the Duke, "You were about to say?"

The Duke had spoken out of turn and had started to relate something about Gus that he was advised to not disclose to anyone but now that he had started he wondered how he could retract.

"I am the closest thing Gus has to any family—besides his father here in England—and we are much more to each other than a senator and assistant. You can tell me I assure I will tell no one," said Veronica.

The Duke nodded in agreement, "You don't know how correct you are my Lady, you are the closest thing to family to Lord Guiscard in America, your blood line is nearly identical, and you are both very pure Anglo-Saxons. We only went through the formality today with him to keep up the appearance of standard procedures in creating a new Lordship. The Crown has stopped granting them for the most part there have only been a few created in the past one 100 years. Otherwise it would have been right awkward for Sir Matthew to be the only one initiated today now wouldn't it?"

Veronica smiled at hearing Matt's new title for the first time in conversation and she said it again in her mind, _Sir Matthew_.

"As for you, no ceremony was necessary and the King felt it best to keep you a secret for now. We have many enemies in our midst's and we dare not trust too many with the truth of your identity."

Veronica was feeling better now and less confused at the actions of the King and she looked around the room differently than when she first walked in. An hour ago she felt like a prisoner or at best a mere guest being paraded as a royal. She looked around now as a rightful resident in Kensington Palace, "It's all a little overwhelming my Lord," she said shaking her head in disbelief.

The Duke laughed, "I'm actually addressed as your Grace, but you'll get the hang of it all. Corinna is very good and will teach you all you desire to learn. She has been with us for nearly 30 years now I believe. You will find her very personable I think and honest when you allow her to speak freely."

"Yes, she is very kind and surprisingly loyal already," Veronica smiled remembering her interaction with her upstairs when she was so upset and angry, "Does she know—about me?"

"Yes she does. The most trusted staff members in all royal households know of the plan to gather the royal blood line, however it is a very guarded secret and is never to be discussed after we end this conversation," responded the Duke somewhat firmly.

Veronica nodded her head in agreement as the Duke rose from his chair, "My Lady, I will bid you good night. Thank you for the audience this evening and welcome to Kensington."

Veronica wasn't sure what she should do and how to respond so she nervously extended her hand to shake his like at the end of a business meeting. The Duke took her hand, turned it palm down and kissed it, "You're getting the hang of it," he smiled.

Returning to her room Veronica found a tray with a spinach salad, a club sandwich and a glass of Chardonnay on it freshly prepared and just what she was in the mood for. Slipping off her shoes and taking a sip of the Chardonnay, Corinna knocked at the door, "Corinna my Lady."

Veronica responded in much better spirits, "Oh, please come in."

Corinna walked into the room and immediately turned back the covers on Veronica's bed as she watched, a little amazed thinking it's just like the movies and then correcting herself, no—just like a dream.

# Chapter 10

The five mile walk from the Capitol to Ted's condo in Georgetown took Ted and Shay just over two hours. They could not take a taxi or any public transportation since they were both carrying an M27 and a Berretta. Escaping from their offices at the Capitol with only their lives they also dared not temp fate by trying to get their cars out of the parking garage. Besides, it was a warm night and Ted and Shay had much to talk about, the foremost being how to find out where the marines had taken Jess and then plot how to free him. The most obvious detention location was the DC Jail on D Street near the river but since that was a civilian facility, Ted and Shay were not sure if Jess was even there. The bigger question at this juncture was how they could find out where he was.

Ted's condo was in the same neighborhood as Gus's and in a few minutes they would pass by Gus's flat—as he liked to call it. Ted and Shay out of necessity kept to the shadows trying their best to conceal their powerful weapons. Coming to Gus's building they walked around the back side, keeping to the thick shrubs that grew on the east side of the building with the plan of taking the alley that lead to Ted's building. To get to the backside of Gus's building required them to pass under a street lamp while crossing the street. They hid in the shadows waiting for the traffic to clear and then they each took turns running across the street and into the dark bushes on the other side. Safely across, they made their way to the backside of Gus's building and they both let out a short sigh of relief as the remainder of their walk would now be in complete darkness in the alley. Just then they heard the sound of a handgun being cocked from behind them and they both froze.

"If you do anything besides throw down your weapons I will blow both of your damn heads off," came a voice out of the darkness that demanded respect.

Ted and Shay put their hands in the air and then slowly pulled the straps of their M27's off their shoulder and laid them on the ground. Then each pulled out the Berretta that was concealed in their pants and dropped them.

"Now take ten slow steps forward and stop and if you even think about taking a single step more or decide to run, I'll drop you both."

Ted and Shay counted their steps being very careful that they didn't miscount in their effort to follow the man's instructions exactly. On step eight Ted confused himself and couldn't remember if he had just take step eight or if he just finished seven. He looked at Shay out of the corner of his eye and decided to just follow him. After they reached nine or maybe ten they heard the voice command, "That's good," as they then heard footsteps walk to where they were standing and collected their weapons. "Now, put your hands on top of your heads and turn around slowly and before you think you're skilled or clever you need to know that I can cut you both down before you even scratch your heads and I can shoot out your two front teeth at 100 yards."

Ted and Shay slowly turned around to find a light being shined in their eyes so they could not see who the man was. Then to their great surprise and relief they heard, "Senators?" The commanding voice began to laugh, "What the hell? What are you two choir boys doing playing with marine-issue firearms and sneaking around in the dark at 1:00 a.m.?"

Still breathing heavy from the adrenaline rush Ted tried to explain, "We were nearly killed or I'm mean abducted in the Capitol, two marines are dead in their throats and they have Senator Erdem already." In Ted's mind his words made perfect sense but the man behind the light just laughed.

"Put your hands down Senators, and here I thought you were dangerous." The man turned off his light and for a few minutes Ted and Shay could see nothing until their eyes grew accustomed to the moon light. Shaking Shay's hand and then Ted's the man said, "General Clancy, United States Army."

After seeing the military display in the Senate Chamber a few hours ago and considering the two dead marines they had stolen weapons from and left bleeding on the Capitol floor, Ted and Shay were more than cautious. It was impossible to know how deep or high up the Vice President's power was in the military and both Ted and Shay independently determined it was best to say as little as possible, "Good evening General," said Shay.

General Clancy was one of the youngest generals in the history of the United States and at 34 years old he had already been a general for 6 years. He was old school and like most military personnel he was crass and blunt. Ted and Shay both knew that Geoffrey Clancy and Gus were good friends but after the day's events it wasn't clear whose side anyone was on or if they had even chosen a side. There was an awkward pause between the three men and finally the General put his firearm back into its holster.

"We are all playing our cards very close to the vest it appears, can't say that I blame you. We're all a little confused at the moment. When I heard that Senator Erdem was hauled out of the Senate I became increasingly worried about Gus, knowing he would not take such actions on the chin. So I came looking for him but it appears I'm too late. Do you know what happened to him or his whereabouts? "

Feeling a little more comfortable with the General now and realizing he was probably on their team; Ted looked at Shay, making sure they were in agreement to trust the General. Shay gave a slight nod giving Ted the go-ahead, "Gus is in England along with his assistant and Senator Hector. They left last week on some important business that we are not at liberty to discuss."

"I am very glad to hear it," said the General sounding very relieved. "When I arrived I saw that Gus's townhouse had been broken into and I made a sweep of the place just to confirm my suspicion that whoever broke in was looking for Gus. It appears nothing in his home has been touched so robbery is out of the question. Whoever broke in was on a mission to find Gus and nothing else and I don't think it a wild assumption to suggest it was the Vice President, or at least some stooge the VP hired."

"But why Gus, he wasn't even in the Senate Chamber this evening?" said Shay confused.

"All of you on that Abdul committee are marked men especially after Senator Erdem's heroics there tonight, which by the way I thought was damn hilarious, trust a Texan to call a spade by its true color—baklava-eating bugger," the General laughed loudly, "I can't think of a better title for the SOB?" Recovering from his laughter he continued, "So, where are you both headed so heavily armed, and what marines did you kill to get government weapons?"

Ted pointed in the direction of his condo, "We're headed to my place just on the other side of the alley."

The General cut off Ted before he could explain about the weapons, "Senators, did you not understand what I just said? They came looking for Gus, who wasn't even at the Senate tonight, I'm certain they came looking for you first. The Vice President is silencing anyone who openly opposes him."

Ted and Shay realized the General was right, after all the marines did come looking for them over two hours ago and by now someone would have found the dead marines outside Shay's office, marking them both as suspected murderers. Shay looked at Ted wondering what they should do but Ted returned an equally blank stare.

"You two want to tell me what's going on? You've already betrayed the fact that you have a secret," the General then added, "I'm probably on your side."

Ted was about to speak when the General held his hand up in a command to be silent. None of them moved while the General's hand was still frozen in the air. Years of combat training had allowed General Clancy's hearing to be much attuned to periphery sounds and the ability to identify an approach. They were all still standing in the open lot behind Gus's townhouse in full view of any by passer.

"We need to disappear and get away from anything that is familiar to you both. I suspect your homes, cars and even the church you frequent will be under surveillance. My SUV is parked half a block beyond Gus's place. A moving target is much harder to hit so I suggest we drive while we talk."

Driving westward out of Washington toward the Shenandoah National Forest, Ted and Shay slowly began to spill their guts about the Minimum and the events that lead them to be so heavily armed behind Gus's townhouse. The General struggled to believe the story especially how two—seemingly non-military trained—choir boys over-powered two armed marines. Relieving Ted, Shay took a turn in briefing the General, "Gus left for England last weekend to find an astrophysicist that would speak freely about the effects of the Minimum since his father has life-long connections with the Oxford faculty. We've not heard anything from him except that he Matt and Veronica are prisoners of sorts and not allowed to leave England or their hotel without an escort. When last we spoke, they were on their way to meet with the King since the rumor on the Transnet is that the U.S. has taken responsibility for the embassy bombings." Almost forgetting Shay added, "Oh, and the British Ambassador is alive—thank goodness."

"Well that's too bad—damned unfortunate that is," said the General as they turned off Highway 211 into the National Forest onto a narrow rough road.

Shay braced himself as they went through several large potholes, "Why is that, he was the only survivor. I'm guessing you think he should have gone down with the ship?"

"It's no secret the Vice President and the British ambassador were friends and I'd go so far as to say close friends—in light of tonight's events that puts him on the wrong side of things don't you agree? Besides," the General paused, figuring that U.S. intelligence was practically meaningless now and continued, "the British ambassador was once an employee of an international real estate company based out of Belarus. Not that that should mean anything to you two except Gus and I have reason to believe this company had much to do with the peaceful take-over of Praia."

Ted sat listening to General Clancy realizing that Gus must have had a confidence with him at one point during the developments of the Abdul investigation; however it was obvious the General was not up to date with the latest happenings, "We know Toprak, probably more than you do."

"I bet you do," responded the General almost under his breath.

The General pulled off the paved road onto an even smaller dirt road and drove for about three minutes to a small clearing in the woods. Stopping the truck he reached under his seat and took out a loaded 9mm, pulled back the hammer and then pointed it at Ted and Shay instructing them to get out.

"What the hell are you doing?" said Shay both afraid and confused, "I thought we were on the same side?"

The General directed them to walk into the woods about 50 feet and then ordered them to lay face down on the ground with their hands on the back of their heads. "Alright you two choir boys, it's time for a come to Jesus. Who do your work for and where did you get your military training?"

"I think you have it wrong General, we're not soldiers, you know who we are," said Ted in a calm voice.

"I know who you pretend to be just like that damned chameleon Vice President. The second hand on my watch is on the seven, you have until it gets to the three to make penance for your sins."

Shay was becoming more unraveled by the second, "Bloody hell General, we are U.S. Senators nothing more."

Ted was also getting more concerned as the seconds ticked, "Shay is right, we work for no one but the United States Government and we are loyal to freedom."

It became very quiet as Ted and Shay waited for the General to accept their answers or at least say something. Ted began to wonder if the General was still standing over them and he lifted his head slightly to get a glimpse. Just then the General said, "Time's up—get your head down you Toprak bastard."

The General's 9mm fired and Ted felt the General stamp on his right foot very hard. In the silence that followed the loud gun blast, Ted started to feel his sock absorbing water and while he wondered if they were lying in a small streambed he patched the sensations of the last few seconds together, _that idiot shot me in the foot!_ Ted waited for the pain sensation to finally overcome the body's natural shock blockers and reach his brain. He knew it would take approximately 30 seconds and right on cue he yelled out in pain.

"You both have a lot of body parts I can blow off before you die and we've got all night. So, whenever you're ready—but keep in mind, I'll use one of you for target practice every 30 seconds." The General took out a camp chair from the back of his SUV and set it up a few feet away.

"General, we are who we say we are and nothing more; we are investigating Toprak, not joining it. You must believe us," said Shay very shaken and afraid.

"So you want me to believe two Ivy League Nancy's over-powered two U.S. marines and killed them both before they could even get a shot off? I inspected the weapons you stole from them and none of them had been fired. Only highly trained assassins could do such a thing, and I've seen Toprak's work before. Your signature of ripped out throats is pretty easy to spot."

The General got out of his chair and walked over to Ted and Shay, "Time's up."

Ted and Shay heard the hammer click as the General aimed his gun trying to select a body part that wouldn't kill them if they lost it.

"Wait! We are not with Toprak and I can prove it," yelled Shay as Ted moaned in pain.

They heard the General's weapon disarm and the General return to his chair, "Ok, Nancy, prove it," said the General mocking the senators. General Clancy, like Gus had grown more and more disgusted with the poor caliber of congressmen over the years and it was very clear he didn't respect any of them except for Gus.

Shay took a gamble. He figured the General knew much more about Toprak then he was telling and maybe even more than both of them. He also gambled that Gus probably told him about how he killed Abdul, something Gus would have only told trusted confidants.

"We know that Gus killed Abdul in his apartment in his own bed," said Shay, cutting to the chase and trying to save body parts.

General Clancy was already a very large man much like Matt, naturally strong but the effects of the Minimum had increased his stature greatly. Without another word, the General helped Ted get up and carried him to his chair.

"Hold tight Senator," said the General as he walked out into the thick brush and collected some dry wood and threw it in a pile in front of Ted. He walked to his SUV, returned with a gas can, sprinkled the wood with it and then took out a cigarette. Lighting it he took a long drag then threw it on the wood pile. The pile burst into flames illuminating the dark forest around them. The General saw Shay still lying face down on the ground with his hands on the back of his head, too petrified to move.

"Nancy, you can get up now," said the General chuckling slightly.

With the light of the fire, the General knelt down, took off Ted's shoe and rolled off his blood soaked sock as Ted winced and moaned in pain. He inspected the hole he shot through Ted's foot feeling for broken bones and other signs of damage, "Oh, good! I was hoping for that."

The General had intentionally aimed for the large space between the first and second metatarsal just in case he was wrong about the senators. The bullet had shot clear through Ted's foot. He took out a flask from his back pocket, poured it on the hole and then stuck his finger all the way through the hole ensuring the alcohol saturated the wound completely. Watching the General, Ted passed out from both the pain the sight of seeing the General's finger poke all the way through his foot. He spoke to Ted as though he was still conscious, "It'll hurt like hell for a few days solder but you'll get along just fine. It's a good thing it was friendly fire," he said laughing alone.

Shay had finally gotten up and watching the General act as a medic, he was angry at his lighthearted demeanor but was still too afraid to say anything about it. The General opened a first-aid kit from his SUV and had dressed the wound about the time Ted came too. Most people carried a simple first-aid kit in their vehicles with a few Band-Aids and aspirin, but General Clancy's first-aid kit was more like a field medic's with everything imaginable for an emergency. After he dressed the wound he handed Ted his flask and Ted took several swallows, thanking him for the makeshift pain-killer. Just then, the General stuck a syringe in Ted's thigh and shot him up with 20mg of Morphine, "You're welcome."

After getting out two more camp chairs, the three of them sat quietly at first as they let the last 20 minutes drift away from them like the soft breeze blowing the flames of the fire. Shay finally broke the silence shaking his head, "What the hell Clancy?"

"The game of coups and secessions is a damned-ugly business, I had to be sure you were not one of those Toprak harbingers, they seem to be everywhere these days. And I also had to be sure you were not in the Vice President's camp," said the General as he stirred the fire.

Still irritated Shay responded, "Whatever gave you such an idea? We are close friends of Gus's and you know that."

The General sighed, "Only if friendship meant anything anymore. I had a secretary for five years and trusted her with much more than I should have," the General paused and shook his head, "damned shame."

"Had?" asked Shay reluctantly.

The General had a stick in his hand and he pulled it out of the fire and blew on the ember as it glowed brighter, "Yeah shot her between the eyes this morning. Found her talking quietly on her personal phone—which is illegal inside the Pentagon these days anyway—but she was talking devil-gibberish just as Gus said Abdul was doing before he attacked Senator Hector. I knew right away what was going on and I didn't want to have an encounter like Matthew did so I ended her call."

"She was heralding from within your office? Abdul seemed like he had to be on the Ellipse to herald."

"I've thought about that since, and I have reason to believe that heralding can now be done from anywhere with the Minimum increasing more and more—but there was no mistaking the sound and she was in a sort of trance. There is no telling how many there are among us. I apologize but when I found the two marines I sent to guard your office with their throats ripped out, well I couldn't be sure it wasn't either of you, or both who did it. I didn't want to believe it but I put a bullet through a friend's head today and a woman to boot. That will haunt me the rest of my life. The longer we drove the more uncomfortable and concerned I got."

Ted had fallen asleep in his chair, the Morphine and alcohol doing its job. "Wait, _you_ sent the marines? I thought you were with the army?"

"Gus called about a week ago and asked that I keep an eye on you three periodically. When I heard what happened in the Senate with Jess I feared the worst and called in a favor. Since there were several detachments of marines in the building I had two redirected under the guise of guarding you for the Vice President's purposes. So the question is: who is the harbinger who killed them?"

"I think I know," said Shay remembering that Enakai had left the office first and was able to step over the marines in the dark. "I hired an intern last week and she was in the office late tonight, much to my surprise. She left just before we did, but what is most curious, Ted walked into the dark hallway before me and tripped and fell over the marines; Enakai didn't, as if she knew they were there."

"I dare say she did know," said the General as he got up to put more wood on the fire. "These harbingers are a half possessed type of creature, quite out of control of their freewill and while it seems a little inHmmane to dispose of them, until we learn how to free them we have no choice; they are much too dangerous to be left in a prison cell since they can still carry out their work."

Shay leaned over to warm himself closer to the fire as the night was turning a little cool, "So I have to ask, how did you deal with the noise of discharging a weapon inside the Pentagon and what did you do with the body?"

"Nothing, I just left her sitting there at her desk and left the building straight away. Things are a bloody mess right now. I gathered up all the supplies I could at a moment's notice as you can see," he said pointing to his SUV, "I suspect they will be taking roll at the Pentagon any day now to find out who's on which side. I hate to say it but it's about to get very ugly, and if Jess weren't missing I would demand that we all get out of Washington."

"Oh, Jess. I had almost forgotten. What do you think they have done with him?"

Just then, Ted's phone began to vibrate in his coat pocket. Shay got up and reached inside Ted's breast pocket and answered his phone, "Hello?" he said timidly.

A familiar voice responded, "Ted?"

Shay was relieved, "Gus, how the hell are you? Are you Guys OK?"

Ignoring Shay's questions, Gus quickly explained they had to get off the phone as fast as possible and that they had just touched down at Reagan National, "We need a ride and a place to go for the night."

"Gus, we're about an hour away, maybe less if we can get away with breaking the limit. We're with Clancy in the woods—I'll explain later."

Shay hung up, "Gus, Matt and Veronica are here and need a ride. They will be waiting for us on the airport grounds, secluded as best they can until we arrive."

The General carried Ted to the truck and Shay scattered the fire that was already out and they rushed toward Washington. Reaching Reagan National, they called Gus just long enough to find his location. They stopped under an overpass as Gus and Matt climbed in from the darkness, "Where's Veronica?" asked Shay.

"In England, and safe," said Matt thinking about where they had left her and added, "very safe."

General Clancy rose through the ranks in the army quickly due to uncommon valor in several small but bloody military operations in the Middle East in the 30's. He was an excellent strategist and was the pure definition of a warrior, skilled, strong and fearless. They crossed over the Potomac into Alexandria looking for somewhere to hide-out but still close enough to Washington in case they got any intel on where Jess was being held. The General past a for sale sign in front of a row of townhomes and turned the corner to the backside of the block and directed the group into the vacant building by kicking in the door, "We won't be discovered here—at least for a day or so."

The group slept as much as they could amid the random discussions of the events that had happened to all of them in the last few days and each tried as best they could to fit them into a rational sequence. Gus and Matt intentionally excluded the fact that they were part of an English organization sent to spy on the U.S. and that they now had titles of Lord and Sir.

The General redressed Ted's foot, checked for infection and gave him another shot of Morphine to get him through the night. Shay marveled at how he could be so callous and murderous when he thought he and Ted were his enemies to now being as caring as a nurse. Shay lay down in the empty room, thankful that they at least had carpeting to lie on. Dozing off he tried to block out the smell of pet urine on the dirty carpet under him and wondered why Gus and Matt seemed to be a little more reserved than usual, especially Matt. He seemed to be very different, more mature, more—noble. "Maybe I'm just tired," he mumbled to himself as he fell asleep while the sun was beginning to rise.

After only a few hours, Shay was awakened by sirens racing down the street in front of the townhouse and rolling over to get up he noticed that everyone else was already awake and two different conversations were in process. Gus and General Clancy were discussing possible detention locations within the greater Washington area where they could have taken Jess. Ted and Matt were looking out the windows trying to discover what the emergency was at the end of the block.

Matt opened the window and stuck his head out so that he could get a better view, "It sounds like a small riot."

With the window open they could all hear shouting and a police megaphone giving orders but they were still too far away to make out any details. Just then they heard five shots fired and then three more. Matt rushed from the townhouse out the back door and ran in the direction the shots came from. The street was quiet as he approached the scene and Matt stood for several minutes listening intently, waiting for any indication of what had happened. It was very quiet, too quiet for a crime scene where eight bullets were just fired. Matt slowly peered around the building, but still keeping himself as concealed as he possibly could.

He saw two police cars parked at opposite ends of the scene with doors open and looking on the ground he counted one, two, three, four officers on the ground that appeared to be dead. Surveying the scene more he counted one more body, a civilian that appeared also face down on the ground. No one else was at the scene which seemed rather odd since being a voyeur is one of the great American pastimes. Matt crept out into the street and approached the closest officer who was lying in a pool of blood. He reached down to take a pulse on the officer's neck—nothing, moved and tried again—nothing, he slowly rolled the officer over and jumped back in alarm. The officer was badly bleeding from the top of his head to his waist as if he had been mauled by a bear. He then noticed the signature of the killer, a large bite from the neck, "harbinger," he said quietly, "but where the hell are you now?"

There was little need to check for any survivors after Matt had discovered the cause of death. There was very little chance anyone survived a surprise harbinger attack. If it hadn't have been for Shay, he would have probably been dead too. He knelt down and looked under the police car, looking for feet, trying to determine if the harbinger was still nearby. After a 360 degree sweep of the scene and not finding any clue that the harbinger was near, Matt stood up and looked around the scene again. With shots having been fired, it was very unlikely the harbinger had not been hit considering the professionals at the scene. He then looked down and saw a blood trail leading out of the scene and into the alley where he had been hiding; _I must have walked right past it_ , thought Matt.

Retracing his footsteps, Matt made his way back into the alley following the blood trail until he came to a rather large pool of blood and the trail stopped, "That's odd," he said out loud as he looked up. Just then a shape dropped from the fire escape with a loud shrieking scream, knocking Matt to the ground. The harbinger rolled several feet away after hitting the ground and Matt quickly thought, _I know what this thing can do and I won't make the mistake I did last time with fair play_.

Matt jumped to his feet just as the harbinger was coming toward him at full speed, mouth open and still screaming. Matt wound up in anticipation and connected his closed fist in the harbinger's face. The force of Matt's right arm and the speed of the harbinger's approach inflicted terrible damage on the harbinger as the force of the blow knocked it off its feet and into the alley wall, then falling hard on the ground. Rushing over, Matt kicked it as it tried to get up, knocking it back into the wall and then back on the ground. He remembered how lethal a harbinger bite could be so before it could roll over again, Matt placed his foot on the harbinger's neck and kept it from getting up or rolling. The harbinger screamed in great protest and then began to relax and finally stopped struggling. Matt wasn't sure if it were alive or dead but not wanting to take any chances as if he were handling a poisonous snake, Matt kept his foot on the harbinger's neck as he tried to look down to determine if it was still breathing.

"That's two dragons now Sir Matthew, and with your bare hands," came a voice from down the alley. Matt looked up and saw Gus and the rest walking toward him. "I'm quite sure it is rather harmless now, you can remove your foot and let it breathe."

Gus's presence once again dispelled the Toprak influence, and Matt slowly released the host. Seeing the host still not moving, Matt bent over and rolled it face up. The host was a woman though it was not apparent when it was acting like a harbinger.

The woman opened her blood-filled eyes and looked at Matt with a slight smile, "Thank you," she said. She was completely disoriented and as she began remembering the recent events and biting the officers, she vomited in disgust. She had been shot at least three times and it was amazing she was still alive. Matt wiped the blood from her face and eyes and seeing that she was innocent at least on some levels of what she had just done, he took compassion on her.

Gus—who was always compassionate—came and knelt next to Matt and began asking the woman questions, "Do you remember how this happened? How long have you been a harbinger?"

The woman could hardly speak but when she did it was very soft and Matt and Gus leaned nearer, "I worked for Toprak Esir three years,"

Gus interrupted, "So you did this voluntarily?"

The woman choked struggling to breathe and speak, "I'm just a property manager." The woman began to cry, "I couldn't stop, and I couldn't—Gott verzeih mir liebste liebe." She choked several more times as her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she went limp.

"Gott verzeih mir?" said Matt.

"God forgive me," said General Clancy who knew both German and French. "God forgive me dearest love," to be exact.

Matt looked for any kind of identification on the woman and finding none he stood up and look at her with pity. "Poor thing had no idea what she was doing and could not stop herself. I can't imagine the horror of doing something so terrible and not being able to stop your own hand."

Gus walked out onto the street surveying the scene, "Dearest love huh?" He walked over to the man who was not in uniform and with his foot rolled him over. Seeing his face he took a step back in amazement and called for the group to come over.

"Well, nice to see that karma isn't fickle. The SOB got his," said the General as they all looked at the British ambassador with his throat ripped clear through. The group all looked at the General in surprise at his callous comment.

"He was in league with the Vice President and was the subject of an on-going Toprak investigation for about a year now," said the General defending his position.

Several people began looking out their windows and a few ventured out on the street to survey the scene. Gus approached one of them and asked if they knew what had happened. All the residents knew was that they heard shouts and screams and they guessed someone called the police thinking it was a bad case of domestic violence. No one would report what they saw next and when Gus or anyone in the group approached them they turned and walked away.

Gus could hear the sound of additional sirens approaching and determined it was time to disappear. They all made their way to the General's SUV, which was a black government vehicle making it easier to travel through the streets of Washington unimpeded. The windows all had black tint so that no one could see in. It was the perfect vehicle to hide four wanted senators.

Buckling his seat belt the General stopped in the middle of an epiphany and stared out the windshield. "What is it?" asked Gus climbing into the passenger seat.

"I think I know where they are keeping your missing senator. The General pulled out onto the street and started heading north in earnest.

Hesitantly Gus asked, "Do I dare ask where we are going?"

The General looked at Gus for a moment and then straight forward and said, "The Pentagon."

# Chapter 11

The broadcast Sunrise Prayers in Algiers were echoing down every alley as the first rays of sunlight touched the tops of the mosque towers and the morning mist began receding into the sea. When the Sunrise prayer concluded, a receiving clerk at the parliament building got up from his prayer rug and finished the paperwork for receiving a rather large crate addressed to the Décideurs Council. He signed his usual scribble on the receiving documents and then looked on the shipping documents to determine the weight of the crate. Seeing it was nearly 200 pounds he walked back into the shipping dock, returned with a forklift and scooped the forks under the crate as he had done a thousand times before. He drove it into a wide open area on the dock where he could breakdown the crate and then deliver whatever was inside to the Council chambers since the crate was too large to fit inside the freight elevator.

Setting the crate down gently he got off the forklift, grabbed a crowbar from behind the seat and began removing the nails that secured the lid. After about the forth nail, he sensed a foul smell and stood up with his nose to the wind to try and determine the smell's origin. The building dumpsters were not far from the loading dock and it wasn't out of the ordinary to have the wind blow a rancid fragrance right into the dock door. The clerk determined that whatever was in the dumpster today, it was especially bad. Removing the last nail, he lifted the lid and threw it on the floor. With the crate now opened it became immediately evident where the smell was coming from. The clerk yelled out in horror and stepped back quickly and then fell over his own feet as he tried to get as far from the crate as possible. Inside was a body in the early stages of decomposition crumpled at the bottom of the crate.

With his robe pulled up to cover his mouth and nose, he approached the crate slowly and peered inside. The skin on the body was nearly all black which was a sign that the body had been dead for many days, but the smell alone signified that fact. The corpse's mouth was wide open and the clerk could quickly tell it had no tongue. From the state of the body it was nearly impossible to determine the nationality of the corpse and while the clerk was studying the contents of the crate, he noticed a letter stuck in between the shoulder of the corpse and the side of the crate. With the crowbar, he slid the flat side in between the side of the crate and the corpse, and then slowly pried the corpse away from the letter. To his surprise, the body didn't move at all, only the shoulder gave way under the pressure of the crowbar and made a sound like breaking into chicken cartilage. The letter was now free however and he slowly moved his hand into the crate as if he were reaching into a box of cobras and carefully pulled the letter out with his two fingers.

The letter was sealed in an envelope addressed to the Décideurs Council just as the crate was, _Where_ _did this come from?_ he thought, walking back to the forklift to inspect the shipping documents. To his great astonishment it was shipped from the Council of the Nation, which was in the same building as the Décideurs Council, but the geographic origin was Izmir, Turkey. This was obviously an issue with tremendous implications for the nation and the clerk quickly placed the lid back on the crate and pushed it up against the wall with the forklift, then ran to the Décideurs Chambers with the letter.

* * *

Hengist was awakened by the captain of his 245 ton yacht with a knock on his cabin door, "We have just docked my lord, Port of Algiers and have announced our presence with the port authority as you desired."

"Very good captain, I suspect we shall have official visitors shortly. Stow the cargo and pack the sails, I anticipate an extended stay."

Even though the door was still shut, the captain stood at strict attention and saluted, "Yes my lord."

Toprak ships were exceptional in both their design and elegance. At 160 feet in length and a beam of nearly 30 feet, it was more like a small cruise ship than a private yacht. Having an aversion to technology, Hengist insisted on having a sailing yacht instead of power yacht. The ketch sail plan allowed the yacht to cruise up to 14 knots and it required a crew of twelve just to handle her 2149 square meters of sail. In addition, Hengist sailed with a hospitality crew of five. Every deck was finished in rich African teak flooring and furniture. All the upholstery was elegantly designed in warm reds, yellows and royal purples. It also boasted enough stowage to circumnavigate the world. In addition to the lavish living space, the ship also contained a large boardroom and sleeping quarters for another dozen men. It was a floating command center and small naval powerhouse. A most odd feature of the yacht was the row of gun ports on each side and a traditional powder keg below decks. The Dutch naval architects that both designed and built her did so according to Hengist's exacting demands and it was truly a one-of-a-kind, elegant sailing ship capable of fighting a small war when fully armed.

Hengist came above decks just before ten o'clock after enjoying a full breakfast that consisted of cold meats, sausage, toasted cheese, several slices of pumpernickel bread and black coffee. Hengist surveyed the port and looking toward the large commercial dockyard, he saw a government envoy consisting of four vehicles pulling into the yard, _Right on time_ , he thought, and then calling to his captain he said, "See our visitors into the boardroom with all the pomp and respect deserving."

The seven members of the Décideurs Council assigned to meet with Hengist were very carefully chosen since they knew the power that he had, both financially and militarily. Coming through the door into the boardroom, each member of the Council shook hands and bowed respectfully to Hengist as if he were royalty. Hengist continued to sell Toprak's deception by inquiring where Aldegund was, pretending that he thought he was still in Algiers and was certain he would have attended with them today.

Every Council member looked grave as they turned to the member of the envoy who was assigned to be the spokesman, "My lord, we have terrible news I'm afraid. This morning your emissary Aldegund was shipped to us in a crate, dead of course. We know this was the work of the Council of the Nation since they proudly paraded their name all over the shipping documents."

"What? How could such a thing happen among two friendly entities?" said Hengist perpetuating his deceit.

"I am very regretfully only now sharing with you the true state of affairs of our nation. The Council of the Nation has been at very warm odds with us—the Décideurs Council—over your great and very much appreciated generosity. Our Council meetings as of late have been held at a secret location in order that we might not be infiltrated by our enemies in the government; your Aldegund had attended such meetings as he would have told you if he had safely returned to you. The crate containing his remains was shipped from Izmir, which is where the assassin hired by the Council of the Nation met up with him. Please pardon my graphic descriptive my lord but his tongue was removed as a symbol that the Council of the Nation will no longer listen to the words of this great Satan in their midst. We also have recovered a letter from within the crate affirming the same message so terribly and symbolically demonstrated in the form of Aldegund's tortured body."

Hengist allowed a tear to escape from his eye as he stared in pretended disbelief, "This is most unfortunate for Aldegund of course but especially for your nation." He continued to stare off into nothingness as he completely sold his false feelings of heartbreak to the Council, "We had been friends for a great many years," lamented Hengist, which was in reality true and he did regret the loss of his friend but nothing was more important to Hengist than the mission of Toprak and any loss could be viewed as an important means to an end.

The room grew very quiet and tense as the spokesman slowly repeated Hengist's last concerning statement, "Unfortunate for our nation my lord?" Every member of the Council heard the threat and wondered at its meaning, fearing the worst since it was no secret the power Hengist held evidenced by destructive march he and his brother Horsa made through western Asia during the Russian war.

Hengist stood so as to make his presence and his threat more ominous, "My generosity extended to your country will now of necessity have to be removed, as I'm sure you can understand. Just how ungenerous I will be depends upon..."

Anticipating that events of the meeting might turn southward with Hengist, the Council had previously planned to accept Toprak's financial support and military assistance in controlling any uprisings that may result from their decision. The spokesman interrupted Hengist, "My lord, our country needs your favor and support now more than ever. We therefore pray that we might move quickly with your financial assistance and," the spokesman paused, "And perhaps a military show of force should things turn badly for us," he said pointing again to the group.

Hengist had the Council right where he wanted them and he fought back a smile as he marveled at how well Horsa's plan had worked. Many people wrote off Hengist's brother Horsa as a very large and stupid soldier whose only skill was death, but to underestimate Horsa was lethal and Horsa used it to his very great advantage both on and off the battlefield. It was Horsa's idea to kill Aldegund in an effort to turn the tide in their favor in Algeria. Now that everything was going their way, it was time to rush forward with their plans.

Hengist sat for several minutes not saying a word which had the effect of unsettling the Council even more. The truth was, Hengist was ready to move forward with their request for financial and military support, but he was thinking 30 days into the future and making sure he got everything he needed from the Council while they were desperately against the ropes. At last he sighed and finally spoke appearing as if he had reconciled Aldegund's death and the Council's penance, "It is a great evil to allow the actions of a single government body to deny an entire nation of security. While I am deeply troubled over my dear friend's death, perhaps he is now a martyr for Algeria. I will do as you ask and move quickly with the financial and military assistance you require." Knowing he had the Décideurs Council so firmly in his hand he couldn't resist mocking them, "I only ask that you bury Aldegund's body in the Ketchaoua Mosque as the first martyr of the new Algeria."

The Council appeared only slightly surprised but quickly overcame any objection to Hengist's request, "Of course my lord, we insist upon it. We will see to it right away."

"Very well, once I have received word I will initiate the transfer and delivery of the first 800 million in bullion as we have discussed. Until such time, I would very much like to remain in port until all arrangements are made satisfactorily—if that pleases the Council?" said Hengist and he walked toward the door signaling the end of the meeting.

The steward escorted the Council out of the ship and Hengist retired to his cabin at the rear of the ship which had a full wrap of windows at the stern. He took a seat looking out upon the southern entrance of the port at the old French lighthouse built in the 18th century during the period Algeria was under French rule. He sat in his cabin with a glass of Merlot toasting his own success as he marveled at what he had just done. With only one ship and only one mortality, he had conquered the entire country of Algiers—and without a single shot being fired. He raised his glass of French wine to the lighthouse and toasted out loud, "Here's to myself and my brother, two Germans who single handedly did what the entire French navy couldn't. We sailed into port and the Council cowered at my feet and even agreed to bury our spy in their most holy mosque!" He laughed at his brilliance and good fortune, "Ah the spoils of power and the power of the spoils."

Just then there was a knock at his cabin door, "You have a herald from your brother my lord."

Hengist set his glass on the small table, "Very well, send in the harbinger."

A young man about 25 years of age entered the great cabin and sat in a chair with an empty stare and glazed eyes. When Hengist had closed the door and he was sure he was alone, he said the words that had the effect of answering a call on a telephone, "Baslatmak," which was Turkish for initiate.

Harbingers related all their heralds in a mixed language of Turkish, German and Russian, three languages Hengist and his brother spoke fluently. It wasn't a perfect encryption but very few people in the world had command of all three languages and Toprak Esir made certain no employee spoke all three making the communication somewhat secure. Upon hearing Hengist's command, the harbinger's head tilted backwards and its mouth began to speak involuntarily.

Through the harbinger, Horsa informed his brother that the disruption forces in Iran and Iraq that had been used to create the ruse to migrate a refugee army across both countries into Van, Turkey had successfully relocated to Payas, a small Mediterranean fishing village on the coast of Turkey, "Are you ready for the disruption forces in Algeria my lord?"

Hengist laughed with accomplishment, "Ready my brother. Your plan was flawless in its conception and execution. I will be initiating the first bullion transfer after the holy funeral."

"Holy funeral, which holy Muslim died," said Horsa confused.

"None—the Council was so firmly in my hand that I did something you would do and I insisted that they bury Aldegund's body in their mosque—and they whole heartily agreed."

Horsa responded in evil delight, "I'm proud of you brother! There is nothing quite so fulfilling as adding an insult to the injured," as they both laughed.

Horsa then related to his brother the details and the dispatch of disruption forces from Turkey to Algiers. The trip would take just over four days sailing at 14 knots which should give the Council time to bury Aldegund and receive the bullion. The disruption forces would then parade as the supportive show of force the Council requested. Everything was progressing as planned.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Horsa added nearing the end of the conversation, "The U.S. British ambassador's mission is accomplished."

"That seems a little early or am I mistaken?" said Hengist wondering if the U.S. agenda had progressed faster than anticipated.

"It is indeed early my lord, the ambassador discovered his harbinger during a herald yesterday and she was able to dispel just enough to relate to her lover—the ambassador—a piece of the herald. Unfortunately, she also related the next move with the Vice President. The ambassador felt he needed to alert the Vice President and luckily I was able to reengage the harbinger just long enough to send a pentacode. I was able to recover the situation but it concerns me that things are getting a little loose with the harbingers. As the Minimum advances, it makes heralding easier but harder to control I fear. Especially where the harbinger is honestly engaged in a loving relationship like the ambassador was with his."

"That is concerning, how many harbingers do we have who are romantically involved in the world?"

"Only seventeen thankfully, and I have already corrected the problem, there will be seventeen mourners tomorrow lamenting the death of their one true love," said Horsa obviously very happy in his line of work. Horsa, becoming sober again continued, "But we have a problem."

"Oh, and what is that, and where?"

"The problem is a person and that person is Leroy Guiscard. He is more than he seems I'm afraid. The ambassador's harbinger chased the ambassador into the street and killed him there, there were other casualties of no importance; however, Matthew Hector showed up and about killed our harbinger and probably would have if Guiscard hadn't showed up."

Hengist was now equally concerned, "And you were completely dispelled again?"

"Yes, as soon as I sensed his presence I even tried to engage at the absolute-level, which as you know almost always ends in death for the harbinger but I was just as easily dispelled by him."

Hengist got up from his chair and walked to the stern windows deep in thought, "Is the ambassador's harbinger still living?"

"No, it was shot several times by some law enforcement at the scene. Whether it died of those wounds or by Matthew's or Leroy's hand I do not know, but the channel is closed now which only means one thing. We have 74 more harbingers in the Washington area so I will have to ensure they do not cross paths with Leroy since his mere presence dispels."

There was a long pause in the herald as both Hengist and Horsa considered Leroy Guiscard and what should or could be done. Hengist knew the power of a pure blood, Anglo-Saxon which is why Toprak had been heavily engaged in testing and discovering blood genealogies over the past 10 years. During that time they had discovered several weak lines and had quickly disposed of them if they would not join them, but after 10 plus years, Moran and Toprak were beginning to think a pure line did not exist in today's world. Hengist hoped they would find the pure line before the effects of the Minimum progressed as far as they had, but now with all of Hmmanity starting to feel its effects, disposing of a pure Anglo-Saxon would be difficult.

Considering all of the options in using a sergeant like a harbinger, which allowed Horsa to manipulate hosts at any distance, Horsa concluded, "Perhaps I should make a trip to Washington and deal with the problem. I would love to see ol' Leroy try to dispel me personally."

"As fun as that would be we must consider the next 30 days here in Algiers as the most important matter of business, the next 10 years depends heavily upon our success. For now, recruit more harbingers and we shall just have to consider them as more disposable than we once did." Hengist then considered a loose end they had forgotten about, "Where's young Veronica these days?"

Horsa thought and then realized, "I do not know my lord. She was not with Leroy yesterday as she is normally always somewhere near him."

"She must be found my brother. An unaccounted for pure Anglo-Saxon is like sleeping in the lion's den where our only defense is the hope that we awake first. How long has she been unaccounted for?"

Horsa thought. She had actually been missing for quite some time, ever since Matt and Gus disappeared for a few days, but when they showed up again, Veronica was not with them. Obviously she was somewhere where harbingers currently were not. Even with the thousands of harbingers around the world, there were plenty of places that were blind to Horsa. The last thing Horsa wanted or needed right now was for his brother to lose faith in his abilities. Horsa was slightly irritated at his brother's demand to find Veronica—after all, a harbinger was never meant to trail anyone, they were meant to act like a bug, listening in on various locations. Horsa needed time to come up with a plan of how to find Veronica and then a way to not lose her again. It was obvious that the time had come for Veronica to have a harbinger of her own. Buying himself some time Horsa replied, "Not long. I will instigate a net tonight and chances are she will get caught in it."

"Update me in the morning then—I don't need to tell you how important this is brother."

Hengist dismissed the harbinger, since his communication with Horsa was completed. Hengist then called for one of his personal guards, a man he had watched for several years and hand-picked for a very important task; a task very similar to the British ambassador's mission in the U.S. The soldier came into Hengist's office and stood at attention while Hengist, his commander looked him in the eye, determining if he were truly ready for the important mission he needed him for.

"I told you some years ago I had a special assignment for you when you were ready. The time has arrived for the assignment to be executed, have you also arrived?"

The soldier looked straight ahead and confidently replied, "Yes, my lord."

Hengist walked over to a closet, pulled out a trunk, reached into his coat pocket and took out a key to unlock it. Lifting the lid, he pulled out one of many steel canisters approximately fourteen inches long and eight inches in diameter. He placed the canister on the small table and put the trunk back in the closet making sure it was securely locked. He then walked over and sat down holding the canister in his hand inspecting it, "I know you do not know what this is, so listen carefully."

He turned the canister over twice revealing the top and bottom sides and on each end there was silver button. "Now if you..." Hengist stopped and noticed the soldier was still standing at strict attention, "At bloody ease soldier, come have a seat so you can see what I'm showing you."

The soldier hesitated at first but then recovering took a seat at the small table next to his commander.

"Notice here the buttons on both ends. You must hold the canister like so and depress both buttons at the same time for a period of about 20 seconds. Once you have done that, you must place the canister on the concrete floor just as I am holding it—horizontally," said Hengist as he tilted the canister toward the soldier so he could see it clearly. "After you've done that, stay with the canister until it begins to expel and fills the room with gas. It will fill the room rather quickly since the contents of the canister are highly compressed at over 100,000 PSI, so whatever you do, don't drop or damage the container. The gas won't kill you but the canister exploding will. Once the gas begins to be expelled you should get out as fast as you can, but for the sake of the mission, you mustn't run or do anything to draw attention to yourself or any kind of emergency.

The soldier looked very sullen, "So—suicide mission, my lord?"

"What?" Hengist started to laugh, "Hell no, you won't die from this. The port authority here in Algiers know our numbers on the ship and after your mission is complete, we will be among the first vessels they check and if I'm missing a man things could go badly for us all. No, this is not a suicide mission; I need you to come back. Once you get clear of the building, you can make whatever haste you desire to get back here. I can't have a living or dead body of any of my men near this blast. Understood?"

The soldier nodded but still looked unsure about the mission and the mysterious canister. What was in it if the gas would not kill him or that was otherwise non-lethal to Hmmans and how could it cause an explosion?

"I'm about to let you in on a Toprak secret. Inside this canister is nothing but ozone, a harmless gas that is found mostly in the upper atmosphere. Ozone is an oxidizer, which is a necessary ingredient in all explosive compounds. Quite by accident my brother and I discovered toward the end of the Russian war—with professor Moran's help—that if vast amounts ozone and concrete come in contact with each other some kinds of concrete explode. The mixture must be right of course and this particular canister has been made especially for the parliamentary house here in Algiers. So what is the magic you ask?"

The intrigued soldier slightly smiled and nodded.

Hengist laughed slightly, "Fly ash my boy. Those damn environmentalists have finally given us something we can use, something so valuable and so lethal. Around 1940 the United States started mixing concrete with fly ash which is nothing more than the soot from refineries or refectories—I forget which. Since it contains traces of arsenic they couldn't just dump the soot anywhere, the environmentalists insisted they find a suitable place to dispose of it. Some brilliant soul suggested they mix it into concrete. Eventually it became a profit center for the refineries and the environmentalists continued to push its use in concrete to the point that today in every country in the world the concrete they use contains vast amounts of fly ash—and therefore—vast amounts of arsenic; and when arsenic and ozone get it on, you have very impressive and very deadly display of fireworks.

The soldier smiled in amazement and considered all the buildings in the world made with concrete—which was pretty much the whole planet—and how each one was a bomb just waiting for the fuse to be lit.

"So, now that you know the science, here is your mission. Enter the parliament building from the south entrance, which is the entrance closest to the basement stairway. Once past security, just take the first set of stairs you come too leading downward and you will come to a set of two steel doors." Hengist handed him a key, "This will unlock the door. Most of the basement is used for storage and near the center of the building is a room of considerable size. This is where you are to dispel the canister. Now, remember I said the mixture must be just right, so after the canister begins to dispel, make sure the steel doors are closed leading to the basement. This is a rather large building which is why this particular canister is so pressurized. Do not be alarmed if you breathe in any of the gas it will not harm you. Once the canister is initiated, we think you should have 15 minutes before party time."

Nodding as he understood, "When?"

"Horsa will be here with the displacement troops on Friday, so your mission will take place on Thursday making Toprak relief troops appear in port as if they were sent from Allah. Then we will crush whatever resistance fighters oppose us and the Décideurs Council, making sure we make a very ugly mess of it all. This will ensure that many civilians will flee the country into Morocco. Then a large portion of our displacement troops will flee over the border with the true refugees into Morocco effectively establishing our military strategy for Gibraltar."

Feeling more comfortable in Hengist's presence the soldier questioned, "Pardon me my lord but why not just invade Morocco as we are Algeria?"

Hengist got up and put his hand on the soldier's back as he also stood, "Debt is the means whereby the tail wags the dog. Morocco is financially sound and would never accept a financial bail-out—but in Algeria, we are the bloody saviors and we will pour troops disguised as refugees into Morocco and they with the United Nations will welcome us." Hengist saw the soldier to the door and returned to his Merlot and continued speaking to himself, "And I will then add all of the country of Algeria to Toprak's real estate holdings, and all their oil."

# Chapter 12

Arriving at the Pentagon, General Clancy stopped in a small wooded area, close enough to observe the building but not be seen. The General got out of the SUV and with field glasses studied the Pentagon. There were armed military personnel all around the perimeter of the building and a heavily concentrated force at all entrances. General Clancy set the binoculars on the hood, "What the devil is going on? It looks like we are at war with so many troops guarding the building. It appears the Pentagon is under anti-siege orders which is an order I have never seen carried out. According to policy, this is only to be instigated if we were under attack. They obviously know something we don't," He looked at Gus hoping he might have an answer.

Gus just looked at the General, shrugged and then reached out his hand for the binoculars. Surveying the same scene he handed them back to the General and didn't have answer, "I suppose this makes access impossible?"

"Not necessarily."

The General's security access allowed him to enter any area of the building, but entering wasn't the problem, it was getting out with Jess—a prisoner, that was the problem, "My guess is that they are holding him in the lower level incarceration unit where special detainees are held when the world can't know about them. It's highly secure as you can image, but before we all risk a limb, I'll go inside and see if he is there first."

"You're forgetting something General," said Ted as he limped around the side of the SUV. "You shot your admin yesterday. Don't you think someone will be looking for you?"

"If I were stupid I suppose they would be—I wouldn't be so careless to use my own gun. With all the commotion in the city after the embassy bombings I was able to leave the scene unobserved. Besides, being a Four-Star General has its advantages—since we are now apparently at war, all I have to claim is that she was a spy and a threat—which she definitely was. I'm sure I will be all right. You all wait here. I should be back within the hour."

The General casually began walking down the street toward the Pentagon as if he were just out on an afternoon walk. Gus and Ted watched as he eventually walked through the armament outside the gates and passed by the soldiers as they saluted.

"I guess that's about as good as we could hope. It appears no one missed him or suspected him as the one who killed his admin," said Gus as he opened the door to the SUV and slipped inside.

Ted walked around to the driver's side and climbed in behind the wheel and turned on the Transnet, a standard in all vehicles. He navigated directly to PubEx and then sat back and put his foot up on the dash.

"How's the foot?" asked Gus as he leaned a little closer to inspect the bandage.

"Still very painful—such a small wound, I can't imagine what a serious one might feel like.

Gus unwrapped the bandage just enough to inspect for infection, "Well, the General did a good job of both putting the hole there and cleaning it up it appears." Inspecting closer Gus exclaimed, "He's a damn good shot, straight through the tissue, no bones. You should heal rather quickly, though I'm no doctor, and I've never been shot, so—whatever that is worth."

"You'll be in pain for a while, it takes longer than you think for your body to grow back together after it has had a hole punched through it," said Matt waking up from the short nap he took on the way from Alexandria to the Pentagon.

"So is that the voice of experience?" said Shay in an unsurprised and flat tone. When it came to the Hmman body, Matt seemed to have experienced it all and was a self-proclaimed expert on fitness, nutrition, broken bones, ripped and torn everything and now gunshot wounds.

Matt reached over the back of Shay's seat and ruffled his hair in an endearing and playful manner, "As a matter of fact my dear Shay, I am."

Shay turned around in an equally playful but confrontative tone, "Prove it."

Matt pulled his shirt over his head and before he could point to the scar, Gus, Ted and Shay all exclaimed in surprise, "Holy crap!"

Matt had a scar that started just under his right peck and went up about seven inches then reappeared on the top of his shoulder. It was pretty obvious that a bullet grazed up his chest, entered just below his shoulder and then exited out the top of his shoulder where there was a very large circular scar about three inches in diameter.

Shay was sometimes critical of Matt's macho disposition but he was also genuinely impressed by it, "So, this is a story I've got to hear."

Matt started slowly and somewhat reluctantly, "We'll it's really not that impressive of a story." Matt paused, "But let's have some fun while we wait for the General shall we? I'll tell you two stories and you tell me which one is true. First story, I was leaving the San Francisco stadium after a game and it was late since I sprained my knee and I was icing it and then sat in the hot tub for an hour or so. The rest of the team had already left and I called a taxi to take me back to my place. Just outside the main tunnel I saw a couple fighting and it appeared to be just a boyfriend girlfriend spat. I tried not to pay attention but they were getting louder and more violent. Then the dude started wailing on her knocking her to the ground then started kicking her."

"Holy hell, what did you do?" said Gus, every concerned and then considering Matt's scar he added laughing, "Obviously you intervened."

"I ran over to the couple and yelled at the guy to stop. He started to run away at first thinking I was a cop or something but when he saw I was just a guy, he came back and started kicking her again, like he needed to finish the job. By that time I was about 10 feet away and he pulled out a .38mm, I dove for cover over the hood of a nearby car as he pulled the trigger." Pointing to his scar he explained, "The bullet sort of grazed me going into the muscle about a half inch then went in here, and out my shoulder."

Ted twisted around in his seat so he could hear better, "That one gets my vote, even if it's not true. What happened next?"

"I wasn't sure how badly I was hurt and like being at the bottom of the pile after a tackle on the field, I thought, _I feel pain so I must not be dead_. The guy ran off and I finally got up and went to go find the girl and she was gone as well. It was probably just a drug deal gone bad and I was just the stupid sucker that got in the way—it was all for nothing."

Shay was impressed as were both Gus and Ted, but Shay was eager to hear the other story hoping it would trump the one he just heard, "OK, what's the second story?"

Matt laughed, "OK, let's see—I had just purchased my first firearm and shortly after I got a shoulder strap that fit a little too tight and it was difficult to get my gun in and out. One night after too much to drink I was showing off for some girls after the division playoffs in '36 and I stumbled backwards while trying to get the damn gun back in the holster when I accidently pulled the trigger. Since I was falling backwards, the bullet grazed me like I already mentioned and exited my shoulder and then," Matt started laughing, "the slug knocked a beer can out of my buddy's hand, scared the hell out of him!"

The SUV was quiet for a minute as everyone weighed both stories. "I still want to believe the first, I don't care if it's true. That is a great story of personal sacrifice for a complete stranger. Things like that never go unnoticed by God," said Gus.

Ted concurred, "I'm with Gus on this one—Shay, how about you?"

"I don't know. I mean, the second seems more plausible but..."

Just then Ted made a loud shush sound, trying to get everyone to be quiet. The Transnet was broadcasting live footage from St. Louis where a group was firing at another group in a city park of sorts. There were already many casualties and bodies were lying everywhere in between the opposite sides. The newscaster said there was no official report of what the conflict was about but the Vice President's position of neutrality prompted it according to the reports. The only thing that was actually known is that both sides appeared to have law enforcement officers opposing each other along with hundreds of civilians. This was clearly not a public uprising where law enforcement was called in for crowd control.

Officers were firing their weapons and the unarmed public was using anything they could as a weapon. Some were wielding tire irons, others garden tools and many had large kitchen knives and hunting bows. Watching the Transnet intently, Gus yelled, "Pause it! Go back just slightly." Ted rewound the broadcast and froze the screen at the place Gus indicated. "Look! There just off the walkway," he said pointing, "See that man, look at his neck. See anything familiar?"

The dead man in the broadcast was definitely a victim of a harbinger attack. Gus had Ted rewound the entire broadcast as they watched it again in slow motion looking for other harbinger attacks and anything else that looked like Toprak.

Shay pointed from the back seat, "There—that makes three and possibly four."

They all turned and looked at each other wondering what it meant.

Just then, the General returned to the SUV and seeing Ted in the driver's seat, he climbed in the back with Shay and Matt. The look on the General's face oddly matched those of everyone in the SUV. They all looked at the General waiting for an explanation, hoping he had one.

"Well, the good news is: we are not at war—at least not with a foreign enemy. The bad news is we are kicking our own ass. At least four states are reporting very heated civil unrest with over one hundred casualties each. The official line is that the conventionalists are responding with force over the neutrality position. Which in-and-of-itself doesn't warrant such a heated response, however the Vice President's seeming takeover of congress does, which is what I think this is about. As usual, the Feds are using the conventionalists as the scapegoat."

Gus began shaking his head, "That just doesn't make sense. First of all, while the Vice President's actions are upsetting, rarely has any civil unrest begun with the conventionalists. I mean let's face it; they are called conventionalists for a reason—but, "flipping the coin in the spirit of equal time, I just can't see the other side initiating such a thing either especially since the Vice President is their candidate."

The General nodded his head in agreement as did everyone else, "By the way, the Vice President is now Mr. President."

"What—when did that happen?" asked Matt, Ted and Shay in near unison and alarm.

"Apparently last night and it was also apparently ratified by the Senate, mysterious since none of you knew about the emergency session. I'm sure it was a secret session of only the Vice President's supporters," the General sighed, "Alas, should we have expected anything less?"

* * *

Two stories below the Pentagon, Jess Erdem laid on a thin mattress staring up into the darkness inside the most secret and secure holding facility in the United States, reserved for prisoners that the world could not know were prisoners. The Pentagon prison was intentionally dimly lit, and cold which effectively robed prisoners of clear reasoning and hope, much like the damp and rat-infested dungeons of a darker age.

The events of the Senate meeting where he accused the Vice President of being a traitor played over and over in his mind and he wondered what the eventual outcome of the meeting that night was and what happened to Ted and Shay? There was a chance they too were imprisoned somewhere since he couldn't imagine either of them agreeing with the Vice President. He also wondered how Gus and Matt were getting along in England and how the U.K. was reacting to the United States' neutral positioning. Almost forgetting he also thought, _and where is Veronica?_ He had not heard anything from or about her for several weeks now. Everywhere his thoughts took him lead to despair. He fought back the depression in his mind only long enough to wander back into an abyss of dark thoughts.

The design of his prison was working and he concluded there was zero hope of a rescue and that there was also a very good chance his friends were just as bad off as he was or worse. He rolled over on his cot resigned to his fate, depressed and let out a sigh of surrender. Rolling onto his side the cross he had worn around his neck since he was in seminary slid off his chest and hit the bed rail with a high-pitched clink, but on Jess's depressed mind it had the effect of a cathedral bell tower ringing out in a storm. As the bells echoed into silence in his mind, Jess slid off his cot and knelt on the hard damp floor. He took a deep sigh and began praying in the suffocating silence. He may not have been the only prisoner in the block but he was the only one making a sound. His prayer started quietly and somewhat timid but the longer he prayed his confidence grew and his voice echoed off the dungeon walls and down the corridor.

"Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done..." Jess paused and considered the words of the Lord's Prayer. In his mind he repeated, _Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven_. Jess felt his soul enlarging and courage filling the emptiness in his heart. Resuming his prayer, he pled for God to have mercy upon the good people of the earth that they, with His help, might overcome the evil that was hemorrhaging around the world and that truth and freedom would conquer in time. He considered his imprisonment and those of so many of the early saints in ancient Rome and like the Apostle Paul, for the first time in his life, he was grateful to be guilty of being a defender of truth and pled with God to make him a worthy martyr if it served God's divine purpose and pleasure.

He prayed for the better part of an hour until he was interrupted by the sound of a key being inserted into his locked cell door and the dry screech of the steel hinges as it opened.

"I don't know what's going on up there in the Pentagon or why you were locked up to begin with but I never heard anyone pray like that and God will damn my soul if I don't do everything I can to set you free," he said as he stood by the open door and waited for Jess to get to his feet.

Jess got up and looked around in surprise thinking it might be a trick or some kind of sick joke. "I'm the only one down here in this block," said the guard, "they figure with concrete five feet thick and being two stories down, there wasn't any reason to have more than one guard when there is only one way out."

Jess was still very surprised and looked into the guard''s eyes to see if he was serious, "So what is your plan? We have the most secure building in the world two floors above us." It was obvious the guard had no plan, only desire. Jess knew that desire alone was never enough; desire only got someone moving, but never to their destination. The plan was left up to him, "And God," said the guard.

Jess thought for a minute, "How long have you been on duty?" he asked the guard.

"Three years."

"I meant today, and who else rotates through this assignment?" Jess said somewhat Hmmored as he walked out of his cell still testing whether or not this was some kind of self-incriminating ruse.

The guard followed Jess out of the cell and motioned him to sit in the only chair in the corridor, "I've only been here four hours and this post is manned by four soldiers, changing every six hours your grace."

Jess shook his head, "I'm not a priest or anything religious, so please don't call me that." He continued to think but the situation did seem hopeless. How could a prisoner just walk out of a secure building and out the door when everyone knew who he was? Then he stopped and asked himself, _does everyone know who I am_? He looked up at the guard from his chair, "What do you know about me? Do you know who I am?"

The guard shrugged, "Just a prisoner who was causing a scene at the Capitol Building. I guess that makes you a demonstrator and that's against the law you know."

Jess got up from the chair a little more encouraged, "How about the other soldiers on this guard rotation, what do they know?"

"I am senior to all the other guards—First Class, I debriefed them on who you are and that you were to never have visitors—no one in or out. I know nothing more and neither do they I would bet," said the guard as Jess took even greater encouragement.

Jess considered his plan again in his mind. It was terribly risky and was based almost completely on a hunch, but it was the only thing that could work and time would not improve his circumstances. Since he was a public enemy to the Vice President, he was sure he would be made an example of. What that would entail he could only guess, probably a decade in prison or if his worst suspicion was true—that the Vice President was staging a coup—it could mean death.

Jess walked several feet in both directions in the corridor determining what other assets they had. The corridor was completely empty except for a single chair and within his cell only a cot and a commode. He was still wearing a black suit that needed a good pressing and his white shirt was no longer very white. _I look like a prisoner_ , he thought sullenly and losing faith again, a _nd this stupid guard thought I was a priest_.

Just then—like a ray of hope within the dark corridor—he thought, _Maybe_ _I can fool everyone else upstairs as well._ He looked at the guard and noticed he was wearing a navy button-up shirt with official patches on it. It wasn't a priest's shirt or collar but it might do in a pinch.

Jess took off his jacket and started unbuttoning his shirt, "I need you to trade me shirts. Do you have a knife or a blade of any kind?"

Before the guard took off his own shirt, he handed Jess a knife with a six inch blade which was probably more for uniform decoration than for any real practical purpose. Jess took the knife and cut the bottom of his white shirt, starting a tear and then tore a two inch strip off the bottom. He then handed the guard his shirt and Jess took the guard's in return. With the knife, Jess removed all the patches and then sliced the pointed ends of the collar off. He put on the guard's shirt and folded the two inch strip of fabric he cut from his own shirt, and slid it under the navy collar making it appear like a priest's collar.

"This will never pass with anyone who knows what a priest's collar looks like but we will have to pray very hard there are no practicing Christians in the building today."

He put his jacket back on and also prayed that no one would notice that he was wearing a navy shirt with a black suit since priests always wore black. He brushed his hair with his hands as best he could and looked at the guard, ready to go. The guard smiled, "If I may your grace, your collar is not lying flat." He took the gum he was chewing out of his mouth, broke it in two, stuck a piece under each collar and pressed it down firmly, then took a step back to look at Jess, "That should do it I think."

Jess then explained the plan. The guard would act as an escort only and treat him as if he were in fact a priest in the building on some official church business. Hopefully they would be able to walk right out the front door. Jess knew that all visitors to the Pentagon received an electronic badge and they were checked in and out at the security check points both inside and outside the building. Thinking of this in practical detail, he paused, "Any ideas?"

They both thought for several minutes, neither of them coming up with anything until Jess remembered a psychology class he had years ago. The Hmman mind has great difficulty focusing on multiple things at a time especially in a time of emergency. This is best illustrated in auto accidents where bystanders are afterwards interviewed about the details. Not only are some details ignored but other facts are forgotten and distorted—sometimes greatly. He took a deep breath and couldn't believe what he was about to suggest.

"Without a distraction I think our chances of walking out the front doors are, well—impossible. I am not dressed all that well, you are completely out of uniform, there is a chance someone might recognize me and then we have the ID badge problem. However, if we had strong distraction, like a medical emergency, I'm hoping all that will be ignored and we will be escorted out of the building in haste."

The guard looked at Jess confused, "What do you suggest?"

Jess swallowed hard, "I want you to stick me with your knife—not deep but enough to cause a lot of bleeding. Then we run up stairs and hopefully—hopefully we will be attended to and taken to the nearest emergency room."

"OK," said the guard a little too eagerly in Jess's mind, "but we'd better go up the west elevators since the other way we'd run into military medical personnel and they might just want to attend to you right then and there."

Jess nodded, "Good thinking."

He took a deep sigh and closed his eyes. Then after a few minutes when he didn't feel any stabbing going on he opened his eyes to find the guard biting his lip.

"I think we should first walk over to the southern elevators, it's over one 100 yards and—I'm not a surgeon. I could very well just kill you. I'd rather have a shorter distance to run—if that's OK," he said nervously.

Jess smiled in gratitude that the guard was actually not planning on killing him. They walked the one 100 yards to the southern elevators and without warning, the guard grabbed Jess from behind with an arm around his neck and with his other hand holding the blade one inch above the point, he stabbed Jess in the gut three times not penetrating more than an inch, hoping that would cause the necessary blood show without any real harm. Jess moaned in pain and held his gut, doubled over and then nodded gratefully that the guard had done what he did by surprise. The anticipation of being stabbed would probably be greater than the wound itself, he thought.

So far the plan was working, blood was greatly flowing from Jess's abdomen covering both of his hands and making a small pool on the floor of the elevator. The pain was getting worse and they slowly rose up from the basement to the ground floor. _At least I don't have to fake the pain_ , thought Jess as the elevator doors opened.

The guard held Jess close to him to try and hide the fact he was out of uniform and yelled, "I need an ambulance here—someone call an ambulance!"

The foyer quickly filled with Pentagon personnel, most watching in horror at seeing a priest losing so much blood. Jess and the guard staggered out into the foyer and toward the exterior doors as they heard someone on a phone calling for emergency help. Jess was shocked that it took so little time to feel lightheaded and he motioned to the guard that he needed to sit down. The guard leaned him up against the wall as he sat in front of him, holding him upright, "Stay with me your grace, we need men like you here more than God does right now—stay awake your grace, stay with me."

Jess was losing consciousness quickly and he now wondered about his plan. He didn't think about losing consciousness and leaving his fate in the hands of a stranger. The guard, seeing Jess fading leaned over and whispered in his ear, "You are a man of God and I would take a bullet for you grateful for the honor your grace." Jess's hands went limp and fell to his side as the blood began to flow even faster. The guard placed his hands on Jess's abdomen and applied pressure to try and slow the bleeding and save Jess's life.

The last thing Jess heard before blacking out was someone on a phone say, "No, I need a civilian emergency crew, the victim is a civilian, a damn priest, hurry!"

* * *

Just then, the General's security app on his phone came alive as everyone in the SUV looked at him wondering what it was. The General pull out his phone and read the code alert, "Hmm, it's nothing," he said, putting his phone back in his pocket and tried to return to what they were discussing.

Gus had a feeling that the alert was important and pressed the General to divulge what the emergency was at the Pentagon. The General took out his phone again and looked at the message, "Let's see," he skimmed through the standard alert messaging then stopped when he got to the details, "Hmm, it appears there was an incident involving a priest, seems he was wounded, maybe mortally and there is a manhunt in the basement looking for the assailant."

Gus thought there were just too many coincidences for this to not have something to do with Jess. An incident occurring in the basement—prison block—with a priest, "It's Jess!" said Gus in alarm as everyone turned to him in surprise.

The priestly deception was working like a miracle as the EMT's entered the building and placed Jess on a stretcher giving the guard strict instructions not to move his hands and instructed the guard to climb on top of the stretcher and straddle Jess so he could keep pressure on his abdomen. The emergency crew wheeled them both out of the building and into the ambulance. Once the ambulance was moving and the EMT's were ready to deal with the wound, they directed the guard to remove his hands. He climbed off the stretcher and sat looking at Jess with grave concern worrying that he had just killed a priest.

The ambulance left the secure confines of the Pentagon and headed toward Highway 395 in the direction of the George Washington University Hospital.

"How do you know it's Jess?" wondered the General.

"I don't but we should at least intercept the ambulance or something. If it is Jess, he will not be safe for long in a hospital bed."

Gus looked at everyone in the SUV who looked back at him like deer caught in headlights not knowing what to do, "Come on, Ted—drive!"

The SUV pulled out onto Long Bridge Drive toward the Pentagon when they saw the flashing lights of the ambulance heading toward them. Ted pulled over across the median a few hundred yards in front of the on-coming ambulance, wincing in pain at having to use his sore foot to slam on the breaks. Matt jumped out of the SUV with a marine M27 and pointed it at the driver.

The ambulance slowed down, honking the horn in addition to the siren. When the ambulance driver saw that the black SUV was not going to move and that Matt was in earnest, he stopped. Matt ran around to the back doors and flung them open as the General joined him, both with weapons drawn. The EMTs immediately threw their hands in the air and the guard, seeing his commanding officer—General Clancy—took his hand off the pistol he had concealed at his side.

The General looked at Matt for positive identification of Jess as Matt nodded in response, "What has happened here soldier?" said the General to the guard.

The bleeding had stopped for the most part due to the EMTs quick work and the guard quickly told his General that a fellow prisoner stabbed him and he was about to launch into why he was dressed as a priest but then just stopped mid-sentence as he realized he was about to incriminate himself. The General turned to the EMTs and asked how badly he was hurt.

"It appears superficial according to the ultrasound I just completed only an inch deep or so. He has lost a lot of blood, that is our main concern at the moment," said one of the EMTs with a shaking voice.

Without being told, Matt ran round to the driver and commanded that he get out and with a loaded rifle in his hand the driver didn't question Matt's authority. The General commanded the EMTs to get out and motioned to the guard he could choose if he wanted to stay or go, "We are on the right side of this if you care about right or wrong soldier, but know this, if you get out I may shoot you some day."

The guard only needed a second to decide, "I'm with you. This is a holy man and I vowed to God that I would protect him." The General smiled, grateful for at least one other good man in the military besides himself. The General and the guard each got up to grab a door when they saw a military vehicle racing toward them. The General pounded on the side of the ambulance signaling Matt to drive, which he did, throwing the two men in the back down on the floor as they sped away.

Matt drove onto the freeway ramp while the military vehicle pulled within 50 feet of the ambulance as the General and guard tried to shut the back doors. The General successfully got his door shut just as they heard a gunshot. Both men jumped back as Matt tried to swerve through the traffic in an attempt to keep the military personnel from having a clear shot.

The General sat back behind the single closed door and loaded his berretta as he slid up behind the back door looking for the right shot. Not being able to see clearly he was about to lean out around the door when the guard yelled so he could be heard over the sound of the wind, road and traffic, "Sir! Let me take the shot, I'm a nobody and I'm out of uniform. If they see me it won't matter much to anyone. But if they see you, all hell might break loose!"

The General knew he was right, but it bothered him greatly since he always lead his men instead of ordered them. He reluctantly motioned the no name soldier to move to the rear and take the shot. The guard slid over behind the single closed door and slowly peered around, waiting for the perfect shot, knowing he might only get one. Through the twisting traffic and traveling at over one 100 miles per hour, the guard didn't have a clear enough view to aim accurately and he deplored the thought of hitting a civilian. He took a deep breath of courage at the same time the General yelled, "Soldier wait for your shot, that's an order!" The guard turned and looked at the General and nodded, then disobeying a direct order, he slid out in the frame of the open door and pointed his piece at the military vehicle and braced himself in the doorway. He aimed between the driver's eyes and waited until he was steady enough to pull the trigger.

While he was struggling for the shot, the General heard three military shots but the guard was still bracing himself in the doorway and he heard one of the shots go wide and hit the closed door, he couldn't tell where the other two shots hit. The General yelled out again, "Soldier!" just as the guard fired and the General got up on his knees to see if his shot was true. The military vehicle swerved to the right and he could see that the driver was dead as the vehicle slammed into the embankment and cart-wheeled several times before it came to a flaming stop upside down.

"Hellofa shot soldier," yelled the General, turning to look at the guard.

The guard was lying on his back just inside the door when the General saw he'd been hit twice. He absorbed the two unaccounted for bullets, and yet he stood his ground and waited for the shot and took it while he was bleeding out. The General pulled his lifeless body further inside the ambulance and took his pulse—nothing. He leaned back against the side of the ambulance with the guard's blood all over his hands and pooling on the floor, "I didn't even know your name soldier." He pulled the guard's dog tags out from his shirt and read, "Kendall Isaac."

He dropped the tags on his chest and sighed, "First Class Isaac, you lived true to your name—a pure sacrifice."

Matt drove the ambulance off the freeway and disappeared into a Virginia suburb heading toward Clinton, looking for a wooded area where they could regroup and plan their next move with the group. He looked into his rearview mirror and saw Shay driving the General's SUV close behind. He pulled off the road into a secluded wood just as the sun was setting.

Parking the ambulance, Matt walked around and opened the doors to find the General attending Jess and the guard's bloody body in the back. Matt didn't say anything for a few minutes, being saddened over the loss of the guard then slowly asked, "How is he? How is Jess, I can see our friend here didn't fair too well."

Jess was holding his own, still unconscious but no longer bleeding and his breathing was close to normal. The General sat down on a stool and looked down at the guard, "His name was Kendall Isaac, First Class. He saved our bacon."

Matt shook his head, "Damn shame. He didn't even know what he died for I'm betting."

"He seemed to know Jess. Said he vowed to God to protect him. He kept his vow—sacred that is," said the General as he reached and placed a blanket over the guard's head.

Just then Shay pulled up in the SUV. Everyone got out and stepped into the silence of the wood that was more like a cathedral. The guard was the first casualty fighting on their side and it hit all of them hard. It seemed to be even more poignant that they hadn't even known his name, an unknown soldier, laying down his life for the cause of freedom. No one spoke for quite some time mostly because silence in that moment became sacred and none dared disturb it.

At length, Gus walked over to the guard, removed the blanket and straightened the body and placed the guard's hands on his chest in a prayerful and dignified manner like the ancient burial rites of warriors. He then knelt in reverence with his hand to his forehead. As he got up, everyone else did the same and afterwards the General addressed the sullen group, "I know it seems strangely sacrilegious at the moment to think of other things but we must get out of Virginia tonight and erase our tracks."

Matt and Shay got Jess out of the ambulance and comfortably situated in the back of the SUV while Gus, Ted and the General prepared to burn the ambulance, with the guard's body inside. "It was the greatest honor and respect in ancient times to burn a fallen warrior's body. He has saved us all, there is no greater honor due to such a man," said the General continuing, "besides, we can't leave a trace that any of us were here, no fingerprints, no blood trail, no DNA."

The General cut the fuel line and by filling a container he drenched the interior of the ambulance and lit it. The ambulance was immediately consumed in flames without an explosion, just as the General had planned since he didn't want to draw attention to their location. The group watched the ambulance burn as if it were an alter and for some time they were lost in the trance of watching the dancing flames when the General spoke, walking back toward the group from being at some distance away on his phone.

"We have an open window for the next 30 minutes to get out of dodge. We have a plane waiting at Andrews for us that is heading west. I pulled a few favors with the Navy to get us on that plane but not on the manifest, we must hurry."

They all got back into the SUV and headed toward Andrews Naval Air Base that was only a few minutes away. They parked at the southern end of the air strip and there was a cargo plane just as the General was promised fueling for a transcontinental flight to the west coast. In the darkness, they cut through the chain link fence and ran toward the plane just as a naval officer walked out of a hanger and upon seeing them turned the other way, obviously following orders to the letter, "Heaven be praised for obedient soldiers," said the General quietly.

They climbed aboard the plane and secured themselves as discretely as they could and Matt, who had Jess over his shoulder laid him down near the back and the General checked his wounds, adjusting his bandages and checking his pulse and breathing. Amid the noise of the engines firing up he gave a tHmmbs up sign to Matt signaling all was well with Jess.

The flight was a long six hours since the plane was not an atmoscraft and it flew the old conventional air routes. Gus welcomed the long flight since it was the first time in many days he felt like he had a solid rest. The others also seemed to be better for the rest as they touched down at the Naval Air Station in Everett, Washington where they were allowed to exit the plan unobserved, again as soldiers and officers followed the orders of the high command—the General's friend—to the letter. There was also a non-official vehicle waiting for them just outside the base with medical supplies, food and a full tank of gas.

Matt was starving and began eating the moment Jess was comfortable, still unconscious but stable. After the General injected him with a round of antibiotics and started a drip of fluids, he jumped in the driver's seat and headed east toward Montana, Matt's home State and also the State where the General owned a very remote and private ranch. The vehicle was mostly quiet, only a few comments about the northwest rain and the endless evergreen forests on either side of the road. Gus was riding shotgun and turned to his long-time friend General Clancy, "I'm curious, what did you ever tell your contact in the Navy that prompted such a response of cooperation?"

General Clancy smiled, "I told him I needed to get the man who just killed the British ambassador out of Washington. My contact was also aware of what a Toprak slug the ambassador was so he was only too eager to help."

# Chapter 13

"My Lady, the Duke of Devonshire here to call on you before he leaves the residence," Corinna said quietly as she entered the library of Kensington Palace where Veronica was pouring over an ancient text. Veronica spent most of her days in the library, often until very late in the evening, only breaking for meals and official visits. For Veronica it was heaven, being surrounded by hundreds of texts, most of which were either out of print or were never published, written by the hand of the author. She discovered the library during her first week at the palace and was over-joyed at the rarity of the books in it. If that wasn't already enough, when the Duke of Devonshire discovered her love for dusty books, as he called them, he saw to it that she was also allowed royal privilege to any text in the kingdom.

Yesterday, a very rare text was delivered to Veronica dating back at least to the ninth century entitled The Winchester Chronicle which was supposedly started during the reign of Alfred the Great in 871 AD. Veronica had a near photographic memory and she remembered reading the Chronicle before from photographed copies of the book in the States, but as she studied the original manuscript she was sure it was different. There were similarities to be sure but the book she had in her hands was more complete and contained histories about the Anglo-Saxon period of England she had never heard. When the Duke entered her study she was inspecting the book trying to determine the age and the author.

"Lady Veronica! How is my new favorite cousin?" said the Duke as he approached Veronica who was sitting by a bow window and a rather large desk that was covered with dozens of books, papers, and hand written notes. Veronica was getting the hang of her new title, royal etiquette and life of privilege and she passively put out her hand for the Duke to kiss without breaking her concentration. "I think you were in that chair when last I was here. When was that, a week ago?"

Veronica put down her book, rubbed her eyes and turned to face the Duke clearing her head as if she were changing channels in her mind, "Um—yes I believe it was, you were attending to the business of the house if I remember correctly, you let someone in the kitchen go that day, upsetting several members of the staff."

The Duke shook his head, "That memory of yours. I can scarcely remember a fort-night ago."

Veronica had been at Kensington Palace just over two weeks and ever since her first night when the Duke explained to her about her blood heritage, they had formed a special friendship and Veronica appreciated his endearment towards her. The Duke had never married and was viewed as somewhat of a playboy by the English public, although an aging playboy. The Duke appeared to be in his sixties and could be a flirt at times but the age difference between them made his flirting benign and Veronica took it all in good fun as she would often banter with him in a playful manner.

The Duke casually flung himself in an upholstered chair with a sigh and asked, "How are you getting along my dear? I fear you are spending your every hour in this dreary room to avoid your new surroundings." His look was now genuine and he peered into Veronica's eyes with true concern.

Veronica returned his care with an endearing smile and kind eyes, "Oh, I am very well, really. You mustn't worry about me so. Certainly I miss Gus and Matthew and I worry about them terribly, especially not being able to speak with them, but I am surrounded by every luxury and my one true love—ancient manuscripts."

"Well, the reason I called on you before I left today was to first see how you were getting along and relate some news about your friends." Veronica sat up strait with renewed energy for so late in the day and waited on the Duke's every word. "His Majesty the King informs me that they have made their way to Montana and appear to be safe."

Veronica had heard about the civil unrest in the States and buried herself in her books to stop from worrying from sun up to sundown, "They—who has gone to Montana?"

"We only know for sure Lord Guiscard and Sir Matthew. The insignias the King awarded them with before they left England are made of English silver, mined from ancient silver mine in Charterhouse, Somerset that was opened during the Roman occupation. The silver in that mine is most unique in that is must be extracted from lead which gives it a special isotope that is readily traceable by a British satellite. I don't know anything more about the science except that it allows the Crown to trail persons who are important to England. It has actually been in use for nearly a thousand years, though I can't see how without a satellite. They flew by slow air from Washington. The King expects a communication any day now that they are out of the Washington oven so-to-speak."

Veronica knew that Matt was from Montana and she assumed that he had returned home, "Thank you so much your Grace for the update, it eases my worry greatly."

The Duke rose and kissed Veronica's hand good night and she was left alone again with the ancient text. She observed the binding and the spine which had certainly been repaired and reinforced over the centuries but the original binding was mostly intact. The pages near the spine had been dipped in a type of pitch, which was derived from fir trees and after hundreds of years; it would crack and break with every page turn. The book had originally been stitched together with animal sinew, which also cracked and broke when it was touched. The entire book was delivered to her in a large box made especially for it. It was approximately twelve inches wide and fifteen inches tall with leather cover and bronze corner pieces, though one was missing.

Being unable to determine the exact date by observation Veronica concluded it was at least ninth century but probably older. It was written in Anglo-Saxon which was also known as Old English but to the untrained eye it looked more like German. Today's modern English is the result of numerous foreign invaders warring across the island and then settling peacefully amongst the English. The English language is actually a coagulation of languages from the invaders England endured over the centuries, which is why so many English words are spelled with silent letters and other odd formations, making it one of the most difficult languages to master. Old English was no exception but to complicate reading it even more, the Roman letters used were not consistent with today's conventions. For example, the letter "F" was written like an "S" as well as many other irregularities. However, this was nearly invisible to Veronica due to her extensive experience with Old English texts and she read it as easily as the Washington Post.

Starting on what appeared to the first page, she began reading the chronicles of a kingdom which was the official journal of the Crown. The first entry was dated 449 AD. Veronica stopped, expecting the first entry to be 793 AD which was the first date in the Winchester Chronicle—the document she thought she was reading. She thought for a moment, _449, that was the date the Anglo-Saxons invaded England. If that is the real date of the entry, the hand that wrote this could have only been_ , she paused in her thought as she considered what she was about to suggest, "Vortigern!," she said out loud.

Vortigern was a legendary King of England just before the Anglo-Saxon invasion, he was considered a legend only because there was so little known about him and his name was never consistently mentioned among the several chroniclers from the ninth century onwards. The next entry date was 450, then 451, 452—consistently every year page after page. Veronica was overwhelmed at what she was looking at and marveled that the book in her hands was unknown to the rest of the world.

She tHmmbed through all the pages following the entry dates and upon reaching the end concluded that it contained an almost perfect annual report of events in England for nearly one thousand years. Excited, she turned back to the beginning and began rereading, absorbing and delighting in every word as if she were in a hot bath.

In the years following the fall of Rome, Vortigern—a roman ruler, tried to maintain the dynasty that he believed rightly belonged to him and his family. He attempted to intermarry with many rich land lords and minor kings but without the might of Rome behind him, the native English resented him and all of Rome for invading their island in the first place.

As Germanic tribes fell upon the old Roman Empire in the east, Vortigern sought their help in England to put down the peasantry that was becoming more and more hostile. All of this Veronica knew and so far, history was on its proper course in the book as she understood it; but as she read, she discovered that the ancient text in her hands contained details unknown to the world and which for some reason were excluded from the cannon of history.

At the time of the Roman invasion, many native English fled into the north and eventually left the country across the Germanic Sea, settling in Saxony. Hidden among the group that fled the country was an unnamed royal princess, the rightful heir of the English throne before Rome invaded. At the time Vortigern requested the help of Germanic warriors, he did not know that the small army he hired was already planning a return home with a royal descendant and heir to the English throne, princess Ronni. Veronica paused and smiled with amusement. Ronnie was the Old English translation of the Latin name, Veronica.

Just then, Corinna entered the study with a cup of vanilla coffee, a new favorite Veronica had discovered since she arrived in England, "Pardon me my Lady, but I thought you might need a little refreshment." Veronica jumped, being startled at Corinna's entrance since she was so deep into her reading.

Corinna chuckled slightly, "Beg your pardon my Lady."

Veronica recovered from the jolt and laughed with Corinna, "Oh, no it's all right. I'm sure it looked very funny from your perspective. I was so deep in thought I didn't hear you come in." She got up from her chair and noticed the grand clock in the library read 2:30 a.m. "Is that the actual time? Good heavens Corinna, you should not have stayed up."

Corinna was very dedicated to Veronica and felt it her duty to attend to her Lady no matter the hour, "It's all right my Lady, I don't mind."

Veronica sat back in her chair and looked at Corinna in amazement. She knew Corinna had been in service nearly all her life and that she was certainly paid well for her service but her dedication was not something that could be bought. She waited on Veronica not only with a strong sense of duty but also a love and a kindness she could hardly comprehend. The more Corinna served her, the more endeared she became.

"Oh Corinna, I do love you. Thank you for your great kindness and untiring service. I am without words most days at you." Veronica sipped her coffee, which was perfectly prepared as always. Just the right amount of cream and sugar and it went down smoothly, "Mmm. Thank you so much."

Despite Veronica's pleadings, Corinna would not retire before her so she gathered up the book and told Corinna that she would just do a little reading in bed and that she was finished for the night. Lying comfortably in bed, Veronica took out a single page from the book that had broken away from the binding and continued reading where she left off, re-reading the name of the princess again finding it amusing and yet somehow—chilling.

The small Germanic army from Saxony landed in southeast Briton near the mouth of the Thames where they set up a war camp and strategically planned their invasion under the guise of assisting Vortigern. Princess Ronnie was kept in the camp very discreetly and there was a story of a Germanic soldier who discovered Ronnie by accident and he was immediately bound hand and foot and thrown into the Thames River. Her presence was only known by the leaders of the invasion forces which was commanded by two brothers known for unparalleled bravery and cruelty whose names meant stallion and horse—Hengist and Horsa.

Veronica put the page down on her lap. She knew those names and it sent a chill from her neck down her back. When she was in college at UC Berkley, she got involved for a short time with a progressive student group at the urgings of a casual boyfriend. The group was founded by two Germans named Hengist and Horsa and focused on training students to become lobbyist and after a few weeks in the group she started to become uncomfortable with the overall direction and attitude of the other students and the so-called mentors. The breaking point came when she was asked to make an allegiance to an unnamed organization and in essence become a type of spy. She flatly refused which angered the group and the mentors greatly.

Veronica shook her head in an effort to clear the memory out of her mind. However, it was that organization that prompted her to seek a career in Washington after seeing how organized the opposition was. She had been determined ever since to try and be on the side of the good guys.

Veronica pulled the next loose page from the box and read that during a council of war between Hengist and Vortigern and his advisory council, Hengist pulled out a seven inch dagger while sitting at the table and began cleaning the dirt from under his nails as he listen to the endless debate on how to curtail the peasant rebellion. After several hours, Hengist become frustrated by Vortigern's lack of masculinity and resolve and threw his dagger toward Vortigern. It stuck into the table three inches from Vortigern's chest, intentionally missing him. Hengist then said the only way to deal with an enemy is with direct, decisive and deadly action. Getting up from the table he said, "Let me illustrate."

He walked to the end of the table where Vortigern was sitting as all eyes in the room watched him in shock and fear. He pulled the dagger out of the table and placed his hand on Vortigern's forehead, pulled his head back and slit his throat. He then announced to the council that the Anglo-Saxon's had returned to reclaim their land and that they would take direct, decisive and deadly action—giving no quarter to anyone that opposed.

At that moment over half of Vortigern's council fell on their knees and pleaded for their lives. Hengist and all of his countrymen hated Rome and he systematically went around the room killing all of the council members. As the last one fell to the stone floor he added, "I forgot to mention that no one in this room will be given quarter." He pulled open the great doors to the Kings private chambers and walked out unopposed so great was the fear of everyone who had seen what he had done. Hengist walked out of the castle and returned to his camp on the banks of the Thames as rumors spread among the Romans that a great devil was in the camp of the Anglo-Saxons. Consequently many of the Romans fled the island immediately and only a few hundred soldiers remained.

Within a few weeks, the entire Roman army left behind to defend the country was destroyed by the small Anglo-Saxon army headed by Hengist and Horsa; the stallion and the horse who rode over all of England destroying anything that opposed them. The official history of England stated that the English were too timid and afraid to fight the Anglo-Saxons. This was a cover-up of massive proportions since the truth was Hengist and Horsa were the liberators returning home, why would anyone oppose them?

Before the bodies of the dead Romans were even cleared from the battle field, Princess Ronnie was revealed and Hengist legitimized himself as King of England by marrying her. Veronica paused—thinking through the implications of what she had just read. This meant that Anglo-Saxon was a technically incorrect name. The Anglo-Saxons were named as such since they were known to have come from the Saxony area of Germania. However, in light of this history, they were true Englishmen returning home.

Now on her fourteenth page, Veronica was beginning to see a pattern in the history of the English royalty. In every seeming invasion of England, it was in reality the true heir reclaiming the crown after much inter-marrying and dilution of the royal bloodline. Another interesting fact was when the Anglo-Saxons were invaded and militarily challenged, the invasion forces were allowed to stay in the country so long as they took a vow of peace and agreed to be baptized Christians. Any who declined were either deported at the end of a sword or run through with it. Veronica thought how brilliant that was. Their enemies were allowed to remain and be in essence forgiven if they agreed to live peaceably among them and the symbol of the agreement was their baptism. She couldn't help but contrast that approach to the historical policy of the United States where citizens were so free that there was nothing binding them together as a nation any longer. "It's no wonder things are falling apart over there! Our enemies are allowed to be enemies while pretending to be our friends," she thought.

For the first time in her life, Veronica began to see the fatal flaw in freedom, which was something she had never considered. Reading the ancient text in comparison to the current conditions in the United States at the moment, it was easy to see where the very freedoms so many had died for were now the cause of so much strife. It begins ever so slightly like freedom from discrimination, which evokes laws against discrimination—forced acceptance, which in itself is a loss of freedom. Not being allowed to discriminate allows a notion's enemies to infiltrate borders in mass numbers while the native population becomes ever more resentful with repressed fear to discriminate at all on any level—until the match head is struck. Any animal regardless of its size will attack with as deadly force as it is able when faced with extermination, just as a disenfranchised population will.

Veronica rubbed her forehead, relieving some of the stress and worry that had whelmed up inside her over the state of the U.S., and then sighed, "This current crisis at home isn't going to end well, especially since the storm has been brewing for nearly one 100 years." Veronica pulled another page from the box not worrying about the lateness of the hour. Some of the annual entries were very brief.

_802 AD – Beorhtric died and Egbert was crowned King of Wessex._

825 AD – Egbert defeated Beornwulf of Mercia and took control of Mercia.

828 AD – Menw the mystic of the Celts insisted the first-born of the Duke of Devon be christened Odun.

Other entries were very lengthy and Veronica dove into the 878 AD record and read that Ubba Lodbrog, the last surviving son of Ragnar Lodbrog was a man of great determination like his father. In this year he marched with his armies into Devonshire where upon the peasantry fled before his horde of marauders and the mysterious banner they carried to the safety of Kenwith castle's keep. The magical banner that marched before the Viking band was called the Reafan or Raven, which was a flag with an embroidered raven emblem and was believed by both Viking and Saxon alike to possess magical powers. The raven on the banner could foresee the result of any battle and if the Vikings were to be victorious, it would come to life and flutter its wings with a mysterious vitality. The banner was created by the daughters of Ragnar and they sent it back to England with their brother Ubba to avenge the death of their father. It was looked upon with profound veneration and awe by Viking warriors and instilled terror in the mind of the Saxon. Entire Saxon armies had fled in fear before its presence over the years of endless war with the powerful and ruthless Vikings that had invaded their peaceful island.

The Castel of Kenwith in Devonshire was strategically built on a very rocky promontory which was very effective in repelling invaders but it didn't provide any means of escape if the castle were to be placed under siege. With the entire peasantry and land owners trapped within its walls, Ubba set up camp around the perimeter of the castle and settled in for a long siege. Odun, the Duke of Devonshire immediately acknowledged his desperation, not being prepared to supply his army and his people for longer than a few days. The only option was to attack.

Once the sun had set and the darkness masked any perceived movement within the castle, Odun began to marshal and organize for a sudden and furious attack. Tradition held that a night attack was the most effective time for a surprise attack but Odun wisely concluded that if they were initially successful they would not be able to effectively pursue the Vikings in the darkness to ensure complete annihilation. So at first light two days after the siege began, Odun quietly lead his well-trained army and band of peasant volunteers out of the castle and into the Viking camp, finding all except the sentinels sleeping in ignorant security.

Odun was a man of great leadership and was able to rally his people into a frenzied state of ferocity such that when they entered the Viking camp they entered with unearthly and terrific yells. Bursting into the Viking lines, they quickly slew the sentinels and commenced the work of death in every tent. The Viking camp was thrown into an instant panic and confusion which made their defensive efforts hopeless. Odun and his personal guard pressed directly toward Ubba's tent and to their surprise found him in a great state of confusion where they gave no quarter and massacred him on the spot. The long, terrible and proud line of Ragnar Lodbrog was now ended. In addition to such divine favor—as Odun understood it—to have destroyed the last living Lodbrog, they also took the sacred Viking banner—The Raven was theirs.

The loss of Ubba and the Raven upon the surviving Vikings was devastating. They fled in every direction in complete and absolute despair. The Saxons with daylight now on their side, pursued and slew them without mercy, cutting down some as they were running before them in a headlong flight and transfixing others with their spears and arrows as they lay upon the ground, trampled down by the crowds and the confusion. There was no place of refuge to which they could flee except their ships anchored off the coast. Only the strong and the fortunate gained the boats as they were forced to swim in utter exhaustion while the wounded and tired drowned in the unforgiving surf.

The fleet sailed away from the blood-soaked beaches of western Britain as they looked back in unbelief at a scene of terrible cost and the bodies of over twelve hundred Vikings lying between the castle and the coast with hundreds more floating in the sea like driftwood.

The victory had a profound effect on the Saxons across all of England who for many years felt they could not overcome the Vikings or match their courage and strength. The capture of the Raven was also seen as God returning his favor to the Christians and thousands volunteered to join Alfred's army to rid the island of Viking vermin once and for all. Oddly enough, the man to turn the tide of the Viking wars in England was a man named after the Viking god Oden and it was as if divine favor had truly turned from the Dane Vikings to favor the English Christians.

Veronica paused at the thought and turned back several pages and re-read—In 828 AD, Menw the mystic of the Celts insisted the first-born of the Duke of Devon be christened Odun. In hindsight it is very easy to assume divine province when the outcome of events is known, but the chronicles she was reading were written consecutively and by different chroniclers. The entry written in 828 AD stood for 50 years before Odun triumphed over Ubba, validating the mystic Menw's vision for the child, something the chronicler on 828 could not have known. With the evidence before her, it was impossible for Veronica to deny that Odun's destiny was known at his birth and she wondered at all the other events that have been foretold throughout history. For the first time she began to see history in a spiritual light, as a cycle of prophesies and their fulfillment.

Previous to tonight, she shrugged off such ancient texts such as the Bible since they had been translated and copied so many times over the centuries that it would have been both easy and tempting for the scribe to insert fabrications into the text. However, with the ancient text before her, hand written in its original form it was faith promoting on a profound level and for the first time in her life she concluded that she knew that God did direct and bless the lives of man—at least for a man named Odun and the English people.

Just then, Veronica heard a long howling moan outside her window. It was then she realized she had been asleep and she awoke with a start, a page of the book still in her hand. She rolled over and placed the fragile page back in the box and turned out the lamp. While she was concluding that she must have imagined the howl she heard it again, this time clearer and perhaps nearer. It was a howl like she had never heard before. It was high-pitched like a wolf but also guttural as it faded like a lion. As she lay there studying the sound in her mind and wondering, it came again and she was sure it was coming from the grounds below her window.

Knowing that curiosity would rob her of sleep until she discovered the origin, she got up and walked toward the window in the darkness of the room, peering out on the moonlit grounds below. She could see across the great expanse of lawn toward a thick wood on the other side and she could see a light coming out of the woods as if it were being carried, bobbing up and down. She narrowed her eyes trying to see more clearly the light in the distance when it began to move faster and right toward her window. The howl came again this time right below her window and she placed her head on the glass in an attempt to look straight down when she was knocked backwards and thrown on her back as the window shattered and a terrifying howl shook the quiet room and left a ringing in her ears.

Veronica almost screamed, but her involuntary instincts left her speechless because of fear and great astonishment. Whatever it was, it was much larger than the window making it probably impossible to get through, but that didn't stop it from trying. The animal leaped up again and again repeating its groaning howl each time breaking out a little more of the window as sharp glass shards embedded into its face and mouth leaving blood dripping down the window seal onto the carpeting. It was as if the beast was some kind of coon dog that had just treed a raccoon and was waiting for its master to come destroy it. Then Veronica remembered the light coming out of the forest in earnest. Was that help or the owner of the beast coming to destroy her?

Veronica had been given a great gift. She was perhaps one of very few people on earth who knew what death really was and she did not fear it. She immediately looked around the room for a weapon but found nothing. She ran out her room and down the hallway to the stairs where she met Corinna who also heard the noise and came to check on her. Veronica ran past her almost as if she didn't even notice her as she called out, "My Lady!"

Veronica ran into the library and pulled a sword out of the hand of a decorative suit of armor, the only weapon she knew of in the castle. The sword was authentic dating back to the 17th century and much to her surprise it was as sharp as a razor. She ran past Corinna again on her way back up to her room when the beast burst through the double front doors, which were just large enough for it to pass through. As it rushed into the large entry, splinters from the shattered doors flew across the room like daggers as Veronica blocked them with her sword and as the beast leaped toward her. Corinna screamed which made the beast turn its attention just long enough for Veronica to run toward the beast and slide underneath its long hairy legs. Standing behind it she drove 30 inches of the 42 inch sword into its thigh.

The beast roared in hateful torment shattering the windows close to the broken doors and rattling all the others in the room. It kicked its hind legs high into the air in an effort to free itself from the blade, throwing Veronica twelve feet over the beast's head and onto the stairs as she held tightly onto the sword. She was now face to face with the creature and it moved very slowly and deliberately toward her growling as if it knew victory was imminent. In the moonlit room, she got the first good look at the creature and it was terrifying beyond belief. It was wolf-like in that it had four legs and very long black hair but it was at least ten times the size of any wolf she had ever seen pictures of. It was bleeding profusely from its head and mouth from the broken window making it all the more terrifying. It left pools of blood on the floor as it limped toward Veronica with its mouth open baring five inch fangs dripping with drool and blood.

Veronica sat with her blade pointed at the beast waiting for it to come to her. She had no plan in that moment and she wondered if she even had the strength to pierce it sufficiently to kill it. She needed more power, more strength or at least a running start. Sitting on the stairs she was certainly dead as the beast also so confidently believed. Veronica thought, _more power—I have nowhere to run and I'll never get past it again_. Then looking up, _But if I can't run, maybe I can fall_. She jumped to her feet and ran up the stairs as the beast lunged forward. She ran around the railing at the top of the stairs and without hesitation, climbed the railing and jumped over the edge with her sword held tightly in both of her hands pointing downwards at the open mouth of the creature as she yelled out in defiant victory.

The 14 feet she fell happened in slow motion in her mind as she approached closer and closer to its razor sharp teeth. In the last two feet of her free fall she grasped her sword with all her might, so hard that her muscles ached from the strain and she braced for impact. The sword entered the creature's wide open mouth as Veronica's legs crashed on top of its head, forcing it downward as the terrible momentum of the sharp sword continued cutting its way through the roof of the beast's mouth, breaking through its soft palate and into its brain. The beast let out a gargled-groan as blood filled its throat and the last breath left its lungs. It collapsed on the stairs as Veronica finally released her grip on her sword rolling off the beast and onto the blood soaked floor exhausted.

Corinna immediately ran to her and started attending to her bleeding foot. She hadn't realized she was hurt at first due to the great adrenaline rush coursing throughout her body that made her shake as it began to dissipate and recede. Her voice also shook as she spoke, "How did that happen?"

Corinna had now regained her composure by a degree although her voice was also shaking, "You slid into a splinter when you ran under it, see—here." Corinna pulled out a broken, five inch piece of wood that looked like a dagger from Veronica's heel. She hadn't even noticed it as she ran up the stairs. They both sat on the floor taking deep breaths waiting for the anxiety to abate when two guards came through the broken doors with a hand held light and out of breath, "Lady Veronica, thank Mary and Joseph you are alive."

They both looked at the beast, then the sword, then back at the two women in astonishment trying to piece together what had just happened. Corinna pointed to Veronica in equal disbelief. The remainder of the house staff was now entering the grand foyer as lights were lit and Veronica had dozens of maids attending her, carrying her to her room where a doctor was immediately called and seemingly every royal attendant was rushing about in the castle at five in the morning.

As the sun was beginning to rise, Veronica was comfortably back in her bed, foot bandaged and fresh from a bath. Exhausted, she lay back in a freshly made bed and closed her eyes when a knock came at her door, "Duke of Devonshire here to see you my Lady," said Corinna.

Veronica sat up and pulled the covers up modestly, "Oh, please do come in. I am dressed and as presentable as I can be—considering."

The Duke apologized for seeing her in her bed chamber but he was very worried about her and wouldn't take the house staff's word that she was well. He walked over to her bedside and kissed her hand then sat in a bedside chair looking at her in disbelief at both what had happened and what she had done. There was no sense in discussing it or asking the ridiculous questions of how and what. The outcome had spoken for itself and Corinna had informed every one of Veronica's unbelievable heroics. The Duke was left rather speechless which was very odd for him so he just sat looking at Veronica.

At length, he sighed, "We are at a loss as to what that was that broke in here and even more important why. It is frighteningly obvious it was after you and only you. There hasn't been sightings of a beast like that since," the Duke cut his words short reconsidering how foolish they would have sounded.

Veronica raised an eyebrow looking at the Duke, "Since?"

Realizing he was now committed to finishing what he started the Duke continued, "Since the ninth century. But it's all ridiculous you know—a meadowlark in those days could be made out to be a nymph or a fairy or something magical." The Duke was very frustrated as none of this made any sense and he was left without any explanation.

Curious, Veronica reached over to the box of pages from the book she was reading, "Ninth century you say? I was just reading that period last night." She tHmmbed through the lose pages looking for anything in the ninth century having to do with a large wolf, "Well, you were right, 890 AD to be exact."

Veronica quickly scanned the page and began reading from the chronicle for that year, "A terrible monster in the form of a gigantic wolf was unleashed on England this year some say as a revenge on the destruction of the Viking armies that were completely defeated by Alfred the Great. This beast is said to someday destroy the world according to the religion of the Vikings by first killing Odin their god. Fenrir—the beast's name—destroyed many villages in the northern most parts of the kingdom eating all inhabitants, leaving no survivors. Many expeditions were launched to trap the beast all of which were unsuccessful."

Veronica tHmmbed through several pages looking to see if it was ever mentioned again but couldn't find any in her hasty search, "So, Fenrir was the beast you think?"

Still frustrated and confused the Duke got up and walked toward the door, "I don't know. My 21st century mind won't let me say yes but my two thousand year heritage won't let me say no. Never mind the fact that they just pulled a 2,500 pound wolf out of your foyer." He paused as he pulled the door open and turned to look at Veronica, "I am so relieved you are unharmed from serious injury my Lady. I know you must be completely exhausted so I will leave and bid you the sweetest of dreams in light of such terrible events." As he went to close the door he stopped again, "You are a most incredible and unbelievably brave woman my Lady; noble, like that of His Majesty."

Veronica smiled gratefully, "We can all do incredible things your grace when we are not so afraid of dying."

# Chapter 14

The Duke of Devonshire entered Buckingham Palace through the south Ambassador's entrance and quickly walked up the Grand Staircase to the White Drawing Room where he waited to be announced to the King. The Duke had been instructed to report to the Palace after he had first visited Kensington and received the official report from the Kensington Guard and after he checked in on Veronica of course.

The King received him directly and the Duke entered the drawing room to find the King alone, deep in thought with his hands clasped behind his back facing a two-story window looking out on a very dark and dismal day with heavy rain. The White Drawing room was one of the largest receiving rooms in the Palace and today it was very quiet and the feeling equally sober. The Duke shut the door quietly behind him trying not to disturb the milieu of the room and walked softly toward the King. Seeing him there, alone in a dark room just like the darkening world around them placed an appropriate frame around the situation. The Duke stopped 10 feet behind the King and cleared his throat quietly.

Without breaking his glance or his train of thought the King spoke soberly but without discouragement quoting Henry Longfellow, "Into each life some rain must fall, but ours my dear fellow—ours—we are about to walk into a hurricane." He turned around slowly, still in deep contemplation and only smiled slightly signaling the Duke to report.

The Duke bowed respectfully, "Your Majesty, it is just as you had predicted and the report of last night's events at Kensington is as equally disturbing I'm afraid."

The King motioned for the Duke to sit while he began pacing the floor very slowing as if we were contemplating something else altogether while he listened to the Duke's report. The Duke slowly took a seat and then continued, "At 4:00 a.m., the sentries posted at Kensington Gate were killed without a single shot fired or alarm initiated but the sentries within heard the approach and gave it chase into the woods for the better part of an hour but then lost its trail until they saw it leave the forest directly for the Palace. It apparently was very fast and they were not able to intercept it or give warning and it was indeed looking for Lady Veronica as you suspected. Sadly, it found her and I'm sure Toprak knows of her location by now."

The King didn't verbally respond and only looked at the Duke when he paused motioning him to continue. The Duke leaned on his knees still trying to wrap his head around the events, "The inspection confirmed—as much as they possibly could from the historical accounts—that the beast was Fenrir—or at least a Fenrir-like beast. I saw it as they were carrying it off to the forest to dispose of it by fire and it was massive; completely beyond belief. How Lady Veronica was able to kill it—well, she too must be supernatural."

The King stopped and looked at the Duke with his eyebrows raised, "And the hour was 4:00 a.m., you are sure?"

Finding the question odd, miss-timed and out of place the Duke responded, his voice slowing like a musical retard, "Yes, that was the hour I am sure. Why?"

The King walked over and took a seat opposite the Duke, "The world is changing more than you are aware and more than the entire world is aware I'm afraid. Have you ever wondered why Biblical stories just don't seem to fit into the reality of our world?"

The Duke thought for a moment considering the numerous passages of miracles and other fantastic stories, then concluded that the King was onto something and nodded casually.

"The world was different when those passages were written, that's why they seem so unbelievable and out of reach for us. It has been over 400 years since the last minimum and it lasted for about 70 years. Most of the people who lived through it had never known anything different and so much time has now passed that any records of the period have vanished—except for the few fragments the Crown has been able to retain. The world has no idea what we are about to crash into and they are sadly, grossly unprepared for it." The King paused in very deep contemplation.

"And 4:00 a.m. is significant how?" asked the Duke confused.

The King was brought back to the discussion at hand again by the Duke's question and he shook his head slightly as he responded, "It's not the hour that is significant but the number. The number four anciently was symbolic of the beginning, the creation. It's curious and I think hardly coincidental that the first paramount event of the Minimum occurred at 4:00 a.m.—the appearance of a long forgotten beast that has been written-off today as a myth and the wild imaginations of an ignorant world long since passed. There have been signs of an impending minimum for 10 years now—I realize, but this event feels different, like we are about to plunge into a new world, a new creation if you will. A place we will not recognize.

Reading from the fragments of the Royal Chronicle that we have, it is plain that the elements respond differently during a minimum period. For example, while hydrogen and oxygen will still create water, its inert energy will be different."

The Duke was now confused even more instead of enlightened, "How do you mean?"

"Have you ever heard of Holy Water?" said the King as the Duke nodded. "It was very real in ancient times and had the power to do magical things when administered by a man of God. Holy Water as we have come to know it today is foolishness and doesn't differ in the least from water in the sewers. If you want a picture of what the world is returning to, look up." The King pointed to a very large painting hanging above the fireplace depicting a great but long forgotten battle. There were piles of dead and wounded on the ground as the war continued on top of them. The soldiers were fighting with swords, axes and arrows from horse and elephant back. In the background there was a dragon attacking a castle and a tall ship being burned in the harbor. Squinting, the Duke also thought he saw a hydra. He turned from the painting slowly and looked at the King with both wonder and horror.

The King gave a small nod, "While world knowledge has increased significantly, our ancestors were not stupid. They just had the unfair disadvantage of living in that kind of world; the world we are also about to experience for ourselves. I don't know how bad things will get—it's hard to image losing the knowledge we have—but I can assure you it will feel like 1600 AD at least. It just all depends on how severe and how long the Minimum continues. With all of our conceited knowledge, we still know very little about our sun and the affect it has on our planet, but it's time you knew the whole story my dear fellow."

The Duke sat back in his chair and appeared to be getting more comfortable in preparation for a long discussion as the King got up and began pacing again, "There are some things we do know. The Minimum will cause the ozone layer to descend closer to the earth's surface which will cause some plant life to fail. If you look at history, maize was not the world food staple as it is today. As it turns out, maize is heavily affected by increased ozone. One of the more fascinating affects is how our pineal glands respond. Over the past 400 years, we have experienced substantial solar flare activity, certainly more than our ancestors did. An abundance of flare activity causes our pineal glands to produce excess melatonin, which as you know produces sleep in both Hmman and animal. A decrease of flare activity—well, we produce less melatonin causing us to be in effect, more awake. Certainly increased strength and sharper senses will be some of the results but also for some, supernatural power."

A light went on in the Duke's mind, "Ah! So like Lord Guiscard raising the dead?" The King nodded as the Duke continued, "This appears to all be a good thing as far as Hmmans are concerned—right?"

"I suppose that depends upon the Hmman does it not? When one's assets are increased their true colors are shown. A street urchin who is sullen and passive will be something totally different with a million pounds in his pocket. Certainly there will be many who will use their increased faculties for the benefit of others, but sadly—there is much evil in the world and they will use such power to subdue, plunder and attempt to control it I'm afraid. This applies to the animal kingdom as well. Some animals have a gentle disposition and this will only be increased however, take the wolf for example: with increased faculties they only become more vicious and with a larger body, they also become more deadly—enter the Fenrir and heaven only knows what else. We can only assume that all of the mythical beings our ancestors wrote about were indeed real."

They were both now silent as each recalled from the myths of the world the heinous monsters that had supposedly once roamed the earth. After a few minutes the Duke wondered about the harbingers that Toprak had been able to enslave, "What about the Toprak harbingers, how did the Minimum affect them so early?"

The King came back to sit with the Duke as he took a sip of his tea that a servant had just brought in, "I am not sure of the specifics, but it is clear that not all life will be affected and that goes for Hmmans as well. However, some Hmmans will be greatly affected due to their individual sensitivities. We have concluded that Toprak has been able to identify—through Moran's research—bloodlines that are hyper sensitive to a decrease in melatonin and they have then sought them out and have used them most cruelly. The pineal gland is also known as the third eye by the mystics of the world and we now have every reason to believe them."

"The third eye your majesty?" said the Duke leaning forward to adjust the sweetness of his cup of tea.

The King waved his hand motioning triviality, "The ability to see visions, clairvoyance, precognition—that sort of thing. With the third eye opened, and no longer calcified—if you will—some will be able to exhibit these psychic abilities to an astonishing, and perhaps frightening degree."

The King sat his cup down on the table and eased back into his chair and changed the topic, "So, Toprak Esir not only knows Lady Veronica is of Saxon blood but they also now know where she is. This is most unfortunate. Kensington Palace kept her safe from harbingers but I didn't count on such desperate measures. How they were able to harness a Fenrir and how they even knew of their new existence is frightening when you consider what else they might know. We must assume it is 1000 AD and all your worst nightmares are real. With that as a backdrop, what do you suggest we do with Lady Veronica to keep her safe?"

The Duke sat quietly, as he was obviously walking through medieval England in his mind as best as he could imagine trying to strategize as his ancestors might have. The King offered the first idea, "I suggest we invite the Bishop of Durham to reside at Kensington and triple the guard." The King thinking more medieval added, "And issue non-ceremonial swords, axe and mauls. I'm not sure why but there must be a reason our ancestors used them, and let's instigate a sentry march around the perimeter since our security cameras and even the satellite coverage revealed nothing until it was too late."

As the King and Duke continued to try and piece together a strategy rooted in fantasy, a member of the palace staff entered the room, "A call for you your Majesty. Forgive the intrusion but I felt it was of some importance."

The servant was holding a mobile phone that the King immediately identified and thanked the servant. Taking the phone the King waited for the servant to leave the room and then looked at the Duke wondering if he should also leave the room. Considering everything, he concluded that he could trust the Duke and it was only a matter of time he knew about Moran anyway. He walked over to the sofa across from the Duke and answered the call, "Moran, thank you for calling."

The King and Moran were long-time friends since the days when Moran worked at Hebrew University. They became acquainted due to the King's great interest in blood genealogy and Moran was the foremost expert in the world. Moran had actually worked for the Crown back in those days and had mapped the entire living royal blood line. However, when Moran attempted to publish his research and was then subsequently dismissed from the University the King lost contact with him until he discovered that he moved back to Dagenham, England. Moran resumed his work searching for pure royal bloodlines in the general population when Moran was offered his current position with Toprak.

Knowing enough about Toprak at the time and that they were an organization that needed to be watched, Moran and the King jointly agreed to send Moran in as a secret emissary for the Crown or in layman terms, a spy. It was because of Moran that the King knew about Veronica and Gus's pure Saxon blood and he also kept the King informed of the movements of Toprak as far as he was able to learn. Since Toprak didn't use any communication technology, Moran was relatively safe making a cellular call so long as he was certain he was alone. In addition, the mobile phone he used was secure and used only Royal networks.

Moran made a point to be friendly with as many as he could within Toprak and due to his age he was seen as a harmless and friendly old man and many confided in him with personal matters. Caleb, who was Hengist's assistant, confided in Moran about the death of Aldegund and how he was asked to cut off his tongue and send the body to the Décideurs Council in Algiers. Moran told the King about Toprak's plan for Algiers and how they were planning a takeover of the country although it was not clear exactly how. Hengist was already in Algiers and Horsa was on his way. Whatever they had planned it was about to ignite. It was unclear to Moran why Toprak needed Algeria other than for its vast oil reserves.

Moran paused in a non-verbal acknowledgement of how absurd his next topic of discussion would sound, "Your Majesty, I believe I discovered how Hengist and Horsa have been utilizing the third eye, and how they were able to engage so early on with their harbingers—magic; dark magic. Horsa encountered a mystic of sorts during the Russian war and enslaved him, forcing him to share his knowledge. Horsa had a tremendous talent for dark magic apparently and at length became superior to his teacher where upon he killed him—of course; such is the way of all Toprak ex-employees."

Moran explained to the King that Toprak had produced some Fenrir somehow, no doubt through the use of the early Minimum conditions and magic. "They released them last night in several countries of which England was one. I would have called sooner but could not be sure I was alone. I have been trailed lately, but no need for alarm everyone is trailed here periodically. Have you had any reports of a very large wolf on the island?"

With slight amusement in his voice the King replied, "Yes, we have seen, tagged, bagged and burned a Fenrir in the last 24 hours. It appeared to only have one mission and that was to destroy Lady Veronica."

"Oh! I'm sure not. Lady Veronica is much too important to Hengist—for reasons I do not know. No, I'm sure he did not mean to kill her. Horsa gave the command to release the beasts and he is a brute with nothing else on his mind at any given moment than accomplishing his goal. The Fenrir were enchanted to seek out pure Saxons, so far only Veronica was found to my knowledge. Hengist became alarmed when he didn't know where she was and asked Horsa to find her. These Fenrir are an evil breed, and can scarcely be controlled. How did you ever kill it?"

The King explained the details of the capture and disposal of the beast and they discussed several other topics including ideas on how to protect Lady Veronica as the storm outside increased and as the afternoon grew later and darker. A servant came in to light the room turning on several lamps and lighting a fire in the fireplace which provided the room with much needed comfort.

Hanging up and placing the phone on the table the King looked at the Duke and sighed, "Toprak is making a move for Algeria; we should hear something any day now."

The Duke had gotten up to stand closer to the fireplace in order that he might absorb its warmth, "Algeria, why Algeria of all places?"

The King got up from his chair and walked over to join him, "I had ruled out that Toprak was behind the Middle Eastern invasion forces into Europe but it appears I am wrong. Algeria is the weakest link along the African coast and an easy takeover target especially since they are bankrupt. I suspect they will move westwards into Morocco and position themselves for a Gibraltar invasion just like Umayyad did in 732 AD. These two Germans do everything by the book, the history book that is—and with names like Hengist and Horsa, it is no secret what they intend—an English invasion eventually. I don't know how exactly but I'm sure they had something to do with the unrest in the United States and if things continue to go south there, we will be alone in all this and I think Toprak knows it—planned it no doubt."

The Duke turned to the King remembering that Lord Guiscard was out of Washington, "Speaking of the U.S., what more have you heard from Lord Guiscard?"

"I heard from him this morning actually. I'm very glad you reminded me so you can inform Lady Veronica. They are with a trusted General named Clancy and they are at his ranch in Montana licking their wounds. Apparently they had some difficulty getting out of Washington; someone of importance to them named Erdem was detained at the Pentagon. A fantastic story I will have to tell you some time. The unrest there is very severe he says and some of the infrastructure is starting to break down due to the unrest. Some areas have not had food for a week and that in itself has caused even more rioting. They take turns guarding the ranch during the night since they've had a few break-ins looking for firearms. The U.S. Government so far has done nothing except call up the National Guard in several states but as you can imagine they are only trying to keep the peace without too much force. The whole situation over there is like a slow match burning on top of a powder keg. I have instructed them to identify as many as they can who are loyal to the principles of freedom and right and identify the leaders of such groups as they form. It will be important to know whom we can call on in the next few months."

* * *

After Moran ended his call with the King, he walked back to his lab and reluctantly called in his assigned harbinger and placed a herald to Horsa. As the harbinger's eyes rolled backwards he could hear Horsa's voice coming out of the harbinger's mouth.

"Your Majesty, I have..." Moran stopped after he realized what he had just said. Having just hung up with the King, his use of title was confused in his mind and he struggled with how he would recover.

"Well, Your Majesty huh? I could get used to that, although it must be our little secret my brother would be very jealous," replied Horsa being very amused.

Moran, still recovering cleared his throat, "Yes sir."

"What have you got for me? I would be most pleased if you told me you have found Veronica," said Horsa.

Swallowing hard, Moran tried to sound enthusiastic, "Indeed Sir, we have found her. You were most wise in using the Fenrir."

Moran heard Horsa let out a loud yell and the harbinger in his lab flung his head back so hard it appeared that he might break its own neck. Recovering the harbinger's head flung forward to its chest then resumed its normal position.

"So where has the pretty little thing gone?" he said with great excitement in his voice.

Moran paused having a hard time sharing Veronica's location with Horsa. He paused so long that he feared Horsa would notice something was amiss, "Um—she is in Kensington Palace, England Sir."

Horsa's excitement left him and he became very sober, "What! How did she get there?"

Things became very quiet and Horsa said nothing for several long minutes, "You are sure of this? No mistake?"

"Yes, very sure," responded Moran.

The herald ended abruptly and the harbinger in Moran's lab resumed his normal personality and disposition as Moran rubbed his neck in sympathy and disgust at how Toprak abused the employees who were assigned to be harbingers. The harbinger said nothing and just looked up at Moran in gratitude before he stood up and left the room.

Horsa left his cabin on his ship which was docked alongside Hengist's, he had only arrived in Algiers a few hours ago and his crew was still packing sails and making ready the vessel. Toprak had many large sailing ships built after the style of Braque, three and four massed ships each capable of over 1000 tons. While the ships were styled after old sailing ships, they were made of light-weight metal consisting of magnesium and titanium. They were lighter than the old sailing ships and longer, which allowed them to sail faster—achieving over twenty knots on a stiff wind. Horsa had sailed from Turkey to Algiers with fourteen ships carrying over 100,000 troops.

He walked into Hengist's elegant cabin and sat down across from his brother's desk and waited for him to complete what he was writing. After a few minutes Hengist looked up, setting down his pen and folding his arms as he leaned back in his chair, "You look like you have something unpleasant on your mind."

"We found your girlfriend," replied Horsa unenthusiastically.

Hengist responded with a confused but amused look, "My who?"

Horsa sighed, "Veronica turned up in the net as I supposed she would but she is a royal resident at Kensington Palace. One of our Fenrirs found here there."

Hengist unfolded his arms and placed his hands together and touched them to his mouth as he thought, rocking back and forth slowly, "We haven't given the old King enough credit—the royal bastard. He too has discovered Veronica's royal bloodline and has seen fit to give her royal privilege—rightly so if I might add." He took a deep sigh, "We certainly cannot now assign her a harbinger as harbingers cannot function within Anglo-Saxon strongholds—as you know, but at least we know where she is and for now she is safe. It is most unfortunate that we were not able to collect her before the King did but it is something we can live with. Send more Fenrirs to England and place them in the forests near the Palace so we will be alerted if she leaves."

Just then a knock came at the door of the cabin, "Enter," said Hengist.

Hengist's personal guard opened the door slightly to announce that the soldier sent to the Algerian Parliament building had just come on deck having returned from his mission. Hengist cocked his head somewhat confused as the guard shook his head confirming what Hengist was thinking—no blast had been heard yet, "Send him in," said Hengist with growing frustration.

Nodding the guard responded, "Yes my lord."

After a few minutes the soldier Hengist sent to release the ozone in the Parliament building was announced at the door and was ushered in front of Hengist and Horsa as he stood at strict attention but still breathing very heavily from having run so fast to the ship.

Hengist was concerned that he had not heard the explosion and the soldier was already back to the ship, "Were you able to complete the mission soldier?"

In between breaths the soldier responded, "Yes, my lord, just as you directed—to the last detail."

Hengist got up from his desk and walked closer to the soldier, "And you were not discovered?"

The soldier shook his head, "No my lord."

Hengist was now pacing in front of the soldier with his hands folded behind his back, "And how is it you are so sure you were not discovered? Not even by some random Algerian as you were running back to the ship?"

The soldier thought for a minute then responded slowly, "Perhaps my lord—but not until I reached the waterfront. I made certain that I was not seen until I was within the frontage road where upon I then proceeded with haste to the ship as if I had been conducting some business at the dock."

Hengist turned to look at Horsa. His plan was to kill the soldier before he returned to the ship so that any loose ends would be sufficiently tied off, but he had eluded even the assassin in his stealth retreat. Hengist concluded if he was able to do that, he certainly must not have been seen fleeing the scene. Horsa shrugged in non-verbal agreement.

"That will be all then," concluded Hengist.

The soldier saluted in attention with an arm to his chest and walked toward the door when a loud blast could be heard several miles away. Even with that much distance, the blast could be felt in everyone's chest on the ship which also made their ears ring. Several wine glasses in the cabinet rang out as one shattered. Hengist and Horsa both looked at each other in surprised delight as if they were two children playing with matches while Horsa began to laugh and then exclaimed, "Holy sh...", just then another blast could be heard equally loud but with less intensity and they covered their ears.

The two brothers looked at each other in amazement and then at the soldier who was still standing by the cabin door in great surprise. Horsa resumed his laugh, "That—that was unbelievable! What did you give him?" he said referring to the size of the ozone canister.

"The right one, seven liters at 100K," said Hengist.

"It shouldn't have been that large or loud, especially at several miles away like we are. And what was the second explosion?" said Horsa as he turned and looked at the soldier and then at Hengist. They both just shrugged as they left the cabin and walked out on deck.

From the deck they could see a very large fire in the distance and sirens could be heard amidst the panic and confusion of the port. As they studied the flames they could make out that there were two buildings burning, but how or why there was a second explosion they did not know. Many of the ship hands and soldiers were also on deck watching the fire anticipating it would soon be their turn to participate in the ruin of Algeria.

Hengist and Horsa both knew that the Minimum was gaining in strength since they were able to release a Fenrir outside their lab and have it live but like the King, they didn't have a firm grasp on what other unknown effects there would be. As they stood at the taffrail, they delved into the unknown and correctly surmised that the Minimum had somehow exaggerated the blast and that could have also accounted for the second blast. Watching the fire they had started they also listened to the early sounds of civil war erupt just as they had planned and they looked at each other very pleased as everything except the size of the blast was going as planned. It wasn't long before Hengist saw an emissary from the Décideurs Council running toward the ship with urgent news, which was that the Council had requested the military assistance of Toprak to maintain order in the city.

Hengist turned to his brother with a smile, "Shall we beat to quarters?"

Horsa smiled in return, very pleased and excited to be at war once again, "Indeed!"

In the traditional naval style, Horsa called out to his number one, "We shall beat to quarters!" as the order could be heard repeated down the command chain and across to the other ships in the harbor. Battle drums began beating which was the signal to the private soldiers to take up arms make ready for disembarkation.

The soldiers marched armed to the hilt down the gangways on to the dock making their way into the city with Horsa their unconquerable leader at their fore. They were in very high spirits everyone happy to be at war once again, more than ready to pillage, plunder, and kill. Every soldier in the Toprak army was wealthy due to the great spoils of war and they were now about to be even more enriched.

As they entered the city, they began shooting at random especially taking note to kill civilians in order to create a terrified migration out of the country into Morocco. Toprak soldiers made expert pirates since they were very well trained in how to make a big mess of things, destroying everything in their path, setting fires and making a grotesque display of mutilated bodies. Their goal was complete disintegration of both society and government and they were very skilled in their craft. Masses fled from before the Toprak army as the army pretended to put down the uprising initiated by the Council of the Nation, the political party who opposed the Décideurs Council.

Within only a few days, massive numbers of refugees began fleeing into Morocco just as planned and Toprak soldiers also followed them disguised as refugees. Morocco and the United Nations helped provide food and shelter just as they had done in Van, Turkey and Toprak was now strategically positioned for a European invasion with an army in the east and an army in the west. Also just like in Van, Turkey, Toprak sent thousands of tons of supplies to the refugees in Morocco which also consisted of weapons.

As expected, the United States completely ignored the refugee movements since they had more than enough to deal with at home. Civil unrest in the U.S. had spread and was now taking the shape of a small civil war as citizens were taking sides and some were migrating to various areas of the country based upon their allegiances. The East was loosely the stronghold of those who supported the President and totalitarian government, while the Midwest and Mountain States were the gathering point for the Conventionalists. The West Coast was in a state of confusion as citizens seemed to be fighting at random and without clear direction. People were fleeing those states into the Mountain States where there was more governmental stability and a clear banner.

The movements of the public were not yet of epic proportions but enough to cause hardships on the receiving States. However, some areas were worse off than others especially where food and fuel were getting scarce. In these areas the Federal Government had completely broken down and martial law was in effect, causing even more migration. The brightest spot in the U.S. at the moment was its churches. All denominations were doing what they could to feed and house the homeless masses and they were even banding together, combining resources and facilities. The churches in most areas were more than houses of worship; they were houses of shelter and comfort. Never had they been more holy and sacred than now.

Only the eastern military bases were following orders from the President and the mock Congress he led. Limited military operations were being carried out against citizens who directly opposed the government but so far there had not been any major equipment used, only armed soldiers and a few tanks just as a show of force. Tear gas was being used as a means of crowd control in the National Mall as thousands had flocked there to demonstrate against the President and his usurpation of power.

The U.S. Senate now only consisted of 79 members and the House was completely dissolved by the President. Most citizens couldn't be bothered with the comings and goings of their government since their hierarchy of needs was only focused on their physiological and safety needs.

Psychologists for centuries had theorized that Hmman beings could not achieve the higher states of Hmmanity such as love, esteem and self-actualization when their basic needs were not being met. Abraham Maslow in the 1960's theorized that when a society's needs for food, water, shelter and safety went unmet that love and friendship would be abandoned and the fabric of society would unravel. Maslow was right on many levels. The Hmman need for self-esteem, respect, achievement, status and contributing to the greater good were completely abandoned in areas where the unrest was most severe. However, Maslow and many of the psychologists who subscribed to his theory were wrong when it came to the Hmman capacity for love.

While some members of society completely surrendered to despair and resorted to evolutionary instincts of the survival of the fittest, there were many who refused to respond with such base immorality. In fact, there were many instances where there was an increase of love and acceptance across all social boundaries and classes as the people of the United States maintained their dignity and served and lifted each other up. It was these groups that were banding together and organizing themselves to not only ensure their own survival but the survival of the nation they loved.

Meanwhile the Federal Government had completely shut down the international cellular networks and the Transnet except for the PubEx channel, which the Government used to spread its agenda. Without anyone being able to post to the Transnet or make calls out of the country, the rest of the world had little knowledge of what was really happening in the U.S. and the true extent of the crisis. International travel was also being monitored by the government and all passports had been cancelled, effectively closing the borders without actually closing them.

In the west, all the military bases were becoming a law unto themselves, ignoring orders from the Federal Government and restricting access of all non-military personnel. Why they were dormant and completely ignoring orders from Washington was unclear to outsiders but the King correctly assumed it had something to do with the presence of a powerful leader—a four star General in Montana. 

# Chapter 15

Matthew almost always awoke before everyone at the ranch and it was a perfect time to get in his customary ten mile run before breakfast. Stepping off the front porch and onto the dew-drenched meadow, Matt took a deep breath of the clean Montana air that was perhaps too thin for most people since the ranch was at 7,000 feet above sea level, but Matt was used it. He was surprised how much easier his morning runs had become and he couldn't remember a time when he was in better physical shape. Not even at the peak of his football career did his body respond with such power and speed, being able to run all ten miles in just over 45 minutes.

He ran a set course which lead down the private road out to the highway and then he would take a trail that wound up above the ranch and then drop back down behind the pond and around to the back of the ranch house near the blacksmith's shop. The Clancy Ranch was an old homestead property originally purchased from the United States government back in 1850 and General Clancy purchased it from the descendants of the original family in 2020. The only building on the property he destroyed was the old farmhouse since it was beyond repair. However, since it was ideally located near the millpond he rebuilt a beautiful log home on the original foundation. All the other buildings on the 2,000 acres were restored and updated with modern conveniences.

As Matt completed his run, ending up at the blacksmith's shop, he was surprised to find the General hammering away on a red hot piece of metal, "What are you up to?" asked Matt as he wiped sweat from his face with his shirt, catching his breath.

The General looked up at Matt as he placed the hot metal into a barrel of water causing a cloud of steam to rise up between them. He nodded toward the pasture where one of his Arabians was grazing, "Sampson threw a shoe in the night and given the state of things in the world at the moment I figured I was better off just attending to it myself. Rather odd that he threw one at night, that usually means the herd was running—running from something. I came out this morning to saddle him up and noticed he was walking funny."

Matt was stretching out his calves as he held on to the post that supported the awning, "Are you headed out on a ride?"

The General pulled the shoe out of the water barrel and after inspecting it, walked out to the pasture to retrieve the shoeless horse as Matt followed, "Yeah, one of the hands this morning told me they heard Skanicum up on the north ridge last night which is what I'm guessing spooked the herd and caused them to run. Of course you know it was just a bear. I'm going to go up and have a look around and hopefully get lucky and shoot the miserable thing. Bears used to be scarce in Montana as you know, but thanks to those damned environmentalists they got them protected in 2024 and ever since then they have been multiplying like rabbits and migrating onto ranch land. Thankfully the law says if it's on my property I can kill it."

General Clancy led his horse back to the shop and as he worked on re-shoeing it he continued, "You're welcome to come along. Ever hunted bear?"

"Once or twice," said Matt and then added, "Illegally," as he walked over to hold up the horse's hoof so the General could hammer on the shoe. "Given the season, the bear no doubt are fattening up for the winter and will probably be even more aggressive."

The General paused from his hammering for a brief moment and nodded, "Hmm, you have a point. We'll have to be extra careful."

Once the General was done, he led the horse over to the tack shed and saddled up his prize Arabian. Matt was no stranger to the skills of a ranch hand so he walked out to the pasture, roped a mare and led her over to the tack shed to get her saddled up as the General came out of the shed with a pair of rifles and threw one to Matt. Catching it, he slid it into the scabbard attached to his saddle. Matt was born and raised in Montana and he was very familiar with the legends of Skanicum among the Native Americans, and like every other Boy Scout he thought he may have even seen one in his younger days. Now in his thirties he was certain he hadn't and wasn't sure anyone really had. Most Native American adults never talked about Skanicum so it surprised Matt that Hank, the General's ranch hand, did.

Matt stepped into the stirrup and threw his leg over the saddle and then paused for a minute, "Why did Hank claim it was Skanicum, did he see it?"

The General started to laugh, "You know the Indians—everything in the forest is a mystery and every animal a long lost relative of some sort."

The General only had one Native American ranch hand and he was in his 60's, hardly the kind of person who would mistake the noise of one animal for another, even if that animal was only a legend. The ranch hand's name was Cetanwakuwa which meant attacking hawk but everyone on the ranch just called him Hank. Hank was a Kettle Indian from the Columbia River area and had lived outdoors most of his life by choice. Even though he was only sixty-something years old, his skin was like that of terribly worn saddle bag with deep cracks darkened by the extremity of the elements and a lifetime in the sun and rain. Even on the ranch, Hank had a small type of bunk house he cooked and took shelter in during the winter months but most of the time he could be found sitting by his fire in front of his little hut with a buffalo skin blanket.

He wore his hair long down to his waist which he let hang freely without a tie or braid and it was greying in a gentle wave. He had the most commanding and wise demeanor of any man Matt had ever known and during his short time at the ranch, Matt and Hank had spent many hours talking about Montana, ancestors and the coming Minimum. Hank could not recall any Indian lore about solar flares specifically but his ancestors had hundreds of legends about animals that were twice the size they are today and how the holy men could communicate with them. They both wondered if that was the sign of a minimum period but the cause and effect was unknown to the ancients.

Hank was one of very few who could live off the land and he also knew the wilderness areas of Montana and the Pacific Northwest intimately well. As the General and Matt made their way out of the pasture and into the forest, Hank approached them from behind on a palomino without a saddle. As he drew near, he said nothing and just nodded as if to say both "good morning," and "mind if I come along?"

Early autumn was in the air on the ranch and the temperature grew cooler as they slowly descended up the mountain trail at the north end of the ranch. The trail was just wide enough for the three men to ride single file, winding up through the thick forest canopy of aspens and maple trees. The leaves were beginning to turn as they neared the summit and as the warm sun rose it bathed the riders in a rich backdrop of yellow and orange light. In the last ravine before they reached the summit about a mile from the top, they crossed a slow moving stream that reflected the bright fall colors above their heads and it scented the air with a damp, woodsy musk.

Matt took a deep breath, "Ah! You never tire of that smell do you?" He filled his lungs again as his horse jumped up the steep bank on the other side of the stream and then stopped and turned his head to look at the General and Hank, "Do you smell that?"

The General didn't respond until he had crossed the stream and stopped his horse alongside Matt. He took in a deep breath and then turned to Matt puzzled, "I want to say elk musk but it's not quite right is it?"

Both he and Matt continued to smell the air trying to identify the animal musk. They both had grown up hunting elk, deer, bear, almost everything and they were frustrated that they couldn't place the simple musk of an animal. The smell was sweet and sharp like elk musk but there was also a somewhat rancid odor mixed with it almost as if there were a decaying animal nearby. Matt rode along the stream for a few yards in each direction looking for a dead animal but found none.

Hank had stayed on the other side of the stream surveying the area and smelling the air. He got off his horse and walked a few yards upstream and then stopped and looked back at the other two men. "Skanicum," said Hank calmly as he held up the carcass of a small deer at the end of a stick that had been completely stripped and was only a few hours old.

The general scoffed quietly, "Whatever it was, it obviously attacked while the deer was drinking from the stream. My guess is it was a wolf and the coyotes then came and cleaned the carcass. After all, coyotes are scavengers you know, the vultures of the mountains."

Hank shook his head, "No, Skanicum," he insisted.

The General was about to refute Hank's claims when Matt held up his hand signaling the General pause for a moment as he asked Hank, "What makes you so sure? I've seen a completely stripped carcass before, as I'm sure you have. What makes this one any different?"

Hank pointed to the air as he spoke, "You smell the air, you smell Skanicum," he then pointed to the ground at his feet, "Skanicum tracks."

Both Matt and the General crossed the stream again, dismounted and then walked to where Hank was standing, "See," said Hank pointing at the dirt at his feet that had been recently disturbed, obviously from the struggle between the two animals and he traced the outline of a print approximately 13 inches long resembling a man's footprint but with noticeable claws. Both Matt and the General narrowed their eyes in confused analysis. Neither of them had ever seen such a track and while it was difficult to make out, there was no question that it was a print, but of what, Matt and the General couldn't be sure.

The legends of Skanicum that Matt was familiar with were now just shadows from a long forgotten campfire story he'd heard as a child and Matt turned to Hank as he wiped the dirt from his hands on his shirt, "What are Skanicum really, have you ever seen one?"

"Once, a long time ago when me and my grandfather lived on Kokanee Creek one would come to the river almost every morning before sunrise. Whenever it would see us it would run into the forest but one day it stayed and looked at me and I at him when I was alone. He turned his head like he was studying me then walked away and he never came back—but I saw his tracks sometimes along the river, then they too eventually disappeared." Hank walked back to his horse and mounted it as if to return to the ranch.

Matt called after him, "Why are you turning back, are they dangerous?"

Hank stopped and turned back to face Matt and the General, "Some say so. My people call them Skanicum, which means stick Indians, some call them Wild Men of the Woods and Night People. My ancestors tell that Skanicum would steal children and kill livestock and one squaw said she was raped by the Night People. They are known to be very evil, but dangerous? I do not know." Hank flanked his horse slightly and instead of heading back to the ranch as both Matt and the General assumed he was doing, he turned and crossed the stream.

Matt and the General mounted quickly and followed Hank. It was clear that Hank had much more experience with the animal they were tracking and they were both comfortable with him at the lead. In less than a mile they reached the summit and they could see the entire ranch and never ending mountains on the other side. On the ridge, Hank dismounted, knelt down on the ground, picked up a handful of dirt and held it to his nose. Like Matt's increased strength, the Minimum had heightened his already keen tracking senses and he was able to determine from the smell of the dirt alone all the animals that had pasted the trail in the last several days.

"It was here," he said, "Last night when I heard him cry out. Some say they do that when they are lonely, looking for other Skanicum."

"So there are many of these Skanicum?" asked Matt very amused and intrigued with the hunt. The General was equally amused by the events since they left the stream and viewed them as pure entertainment.

Hank tossed the dirt from his hand into the air, "My very old ancestors say there was once very many but that the sun killed them."

Matt and the General looked at each other. Hanks story was starting to sound very familiar—strange happenings surrounding supernatural events, effects on living things and the sun. The General now becoming genuinely interested for the first time in the discussion of Skanicum asked, "How long ago did your ancestors live—those who talked about Skanicum?"

Hank climbed back on his horse and surveyed the hundreds of miles of raw and primitive wilderness before them, "No one knows for sure since the way they counted days has been lost to us but my grandfather said it was sometime after the English came in the east and after they killed their witches."

They started to make their way slowly down the mountainside toward the vast wilderness to the north having to pick their path through whatever openings they could find in the dense forest since there was no longer a trail. The General thought for a minute recalling from memory U.S. history, "That would have been between 1620, when the Pilgrims arrived and 1692, the date of the last witch hanging in Salem." The General paused, turned to Matt and then resumed, "I'll be dammed if that doesn't coincide with the last solar minimum period."

Matt nodded in agreement and continued with the General's line of reasoning, "If Hank is right and we are tracking a real Skanicum, how large could it be? I mean, the Minimum hasn't started to effect much until recently."

"Unless," the General paused when he saw Hank raise his hand signaling them to stop, then continued in a quieter voice, "The Minimum has really been going on for 10 years now, almost eleven. Since we have no idea how it affects animals—or Hmmans for that matter—it is possible it could be at least 10 years old. Think of a 10 year old bear, not something you would want to approach unarmed or without lots of luck."

Matt nodded again as they rode up behind Hank and stopped. Hank smelled the air and as Matt and the General did likewise they smelled the same rancid, musk they had smelled back at the stream. No one spoke and Matt and the General watched Hank determine the direction of the smell as he turned his head left and then right repeatedly each time moving his head up and down. He then closed his eyes in deep concentration as the fall wind blew his long hair in a gentle wave. Hank had a crow feather woven into the back of his hair on a long leather tie that twisted and twirled in the breeze. Seeing Hank, sitting bareback on a palomino and watching him track in the same way his ancestors had done for thousands of years, Matt felt almost as if he was thrown back in time and that they were the only men for 100s of miles.

Hank motioned for Matt and the General to stay put while he rode ahead. They watched as Hank rode up to the opening of a small ravine and dismounted. He then proceeded on foot, then crawled on his belly, and then stopped. He lay there for about 10 minutes before he crawled back several yards and then began to walk back to his horse. They watched as he effortlessly jumped up on its back without the aid of a stirrup and rode back to where Matt and the General were waiting. It was obvious that Hank had seen something over the ridge and that whatever he saw, it was significant enough to require silence and caution. As Hank drew near Matt whispered rather loudly, "Did you find the nest?"

The expression on Hank's face never changed no matter what he was doing so it was impossible to determine the true state of things from looking at him, "hundreds," was all he said as he came to a stop near the General.

The opportunity to see a real live Skanicum was too much for Matt to resist so he flanked his horse into a quick start when Hank reached out and grabbed the reins, causing Matt's horse to rear and nearly caused Matt to fall off. "What the hell," he yelled out at Hank with a hard look.

With his expressionless face Hank raised his hand and waved it, "not Skanicum, soldiers."

The thrill of the hunt quickly changed from excitement into fear of the unknown and for the first time since leaving the blacksmith's shop, the General was completely engaged. "Soldiers, whose soldiers?" he demanded as he turned his horse preparing to ride. Hank just shrugged his shoulders, his expression still flat and unchanged which gave the impression that he didn't care.

The General flanked his horse hard, rode down the ravine and up the other side, then stopped where Hank had. He quietly dismounted and following Hanks example he crawled to the ridge and peered over the edge. Just as Hank had said, the valley below was full of soldiers, a hundred at least. They were well supplied and by the looks of things they had been there a week or more.

"They're certainly ours."

Thinking he was alone, the General was startled to find Matt on his right looking at the troops through binoculars.

Hank watched the General and Matt from a distance as they surveyed the troops in the valley when he felt the hair on the back of his neck slowly rise. Even though he didn't hear a sound, he knew there was something behind him, something near, approximately 20 feet or less. His first thought was that the Skanicum they were tracking had doubled back and was now tracking him, but his horse had not responded to the presence of a foreign animal and he couldn't smell anything. Just then the wind shifted and as the smell of rancid musk hit his nose. His horse jumped slightly, neighed and turned its head in the direction of the foul breeze.

Before Hank could turn around, the massive Skanicum clubbed him on the side of his head with a tightly closed fist which felt like an eight inch log had been swung at his head, completely knocking him from his horse to the ground as his horse bolted and ran toward the ranch.

Almost unconscious, Hank lay on the ground waiting for the stars and dizziness to end, hoping he could clear his head and recover his faculties before the Skanicum came over to finish him off. With his head clearing slightly he could now feel blood running down his head and his ear began a painful throb. Any second Hank knew he would most-likely be picked up and thrown or perhaps just crushed under its foot, but seconds past and then minutes, and still nothing. Not even a sound. _Perhaps it has left_ , he thought.

Hank slowly rolled over and as he waited for his eyesight to clear, he could see the Skanicum looking at him as it stood above him. It was at least nine feet tall with hair mostly all over its body but not as thick as you would normally find on an animal that lived outdoors in a temperate climate. It looked more like a man but with three inch hair sparsely covering its dark skin. It had fingers like a man but with one inch nails that looked like claws instead of finger nails. Its Hmman facial features gave it the appearance of a man but much more chiseled, menacing and terrifying. It wore no covering or clothing and other than looking Hmman, it was definitely and animal in every other way.

It looked at Hank and slowly turned its head as if it were studying him. Hank sat up slowly as the Skanicum took a step backwards, but without breaking his eye contact. With his vision now clear, Hank and the Skanicum stared at each other for several minutes and Hank remembered his experience as a child in a similar situation, staring into the eyes of a Skanicum. It crossed his mind that perhaps this was the same Skanicum but it was impossible to tell after so many years, but there was something about Hank that made the Skanicum pause and eventually turn and walk away.

Hank pulled himself into a full upright position against a tree so that he could keep his head elevated and with minimum pressure stop the bleeding. From this position he could barely see the General and Matt still peering over the ridge.

The General reached out his hand to take the binoculars from Matt, "Ours—by that you mean the U.S.?" The General surveyed the small army below him and didn't speak for several minutes, "They are in battle form that is for sure, prepared for a fight—but as for them being ours, the last time I checked, the United States didn't attack their own citizens."

Matt turned to the General confused, "You think they are here to attack—us?"

"They could only be in this valley for one reason—they are here to invade the ranch. There is nothing of any military significance in this area for at least two 200 miles. I am certain they are thinking if I am captured or destroyed they can unite the Western forces with the East. So long as the Western forces are out of the Vice president's reach he cannot assume complete control, and the Vice President knows it."

"You mean the President," said Matt correcting the General since the Vice President had crowned himself President a month ago. General Clancy rolled his eyes and shook his head as he handed the binoculars back to Matt.

"So, what do we do now?" asked Matt as he took another look at the army through the binoculars.

"Well we sure as hell can't stop them alone, so we had better disappear. It's not my favorite war strategy but it will allow us to fight another day, as they say. Frankly I'm very surprised we haven't been discovered yet, if this were my outfit I would have sentries on every summit surrounding the encampment."

The General rolled over, preparing to crawl back to his horse when he noticed that Hank was no longer waiting for them on the opposite ridge. He tapped Matt on the shoulder and pointed in the direction where Hank should have been waiting. Matt looked at the General confused and then resumed studying the army, looking for any indication that they had Hank. After several minutes he sat the binoculars down and shook his head, "I don't see any sign of him down there. Maybe he got bored with the hunt and returned to the ranch?"

"If the scouts discovered him, they certainly saw us and are working their way toward us right now, most-likely through the bottom of the ravine where the brush is thickest," said the General whispering.

Both men sat and watched for any sign of movement in the thick brush below them but saw nothing. Despite his young age of 34, the General had perhaps the most wartime experience of any one in the country, military or civilian and he knew if Hank had been taken, they had only seconds to make a decision before an ambush. Without a word to Matt, the General gave him a nod and they both jumped to their feet and made a dash to their horses and pulled their rifles out of the saddle scabbards. They fully expected to see soldiers surrounding them, but with their backs to their horses, they both turned 360 degrees quickly and saw no one.

The sun was just past its zenith. The cool morning had warmed considerably and the air was still and silent. The General mounted his horse as did Matt and they slowly rode back to the other side of the ravine where they had left Hank, looking around cautiously as they went. Nearing the spot, the General saw Hank sitting up against a tree with his eyes closed and he only opened them slightly as the two men approached. Although his ear had stopped bleeding, there was a large amount of dried blood down the right side of his face and a large stain on his shirt where the blood had pooled.

The General immediately inquired what had happened, still certain it was the soldiers and he began asking how he escaped and where the soldiers had gone. A chill when down the General's neck as he realized he had probably just walked into a trap but then Hank shook his head and said, "Not soldiers, Skanicum."

This drew Matt off his horse as he began firing questions at Hank one after another, wanting to know every detail about this mythical monster that had now returned into being. Hank began to speak in his slow and deliberate way, with no emotion and just the facts, "Skanicum approached me from behind and clubbed me with his fist and knocked me from my horse. I thought I was dead but he didn't touch me after that. I landed over there and my horse ran toward the ranch. Skanicum stood right where you are and looked at me. He acted like he knew me, and maybe I knew him too, I don't know. He then ran into the forest," Hank concluded pointing in a northwesterly direction.

Matt was like a child filled with excitement, "Knew him? How—you mean maybe the Skanicum you saw as a kid with your grandfather and it was the same one you think?"

Hank just shook his head, "Impossible to know for sure. He did look old, but..."

"The fact that you are alive says it all. There was a reason why it didn't kill you and if you both looked each other in the eye, well—I think it's obvious," said the General helping Hank get to his feet and on his own horse.

Matt inspected Hank's ear and couldn't quite get over the living proof that Skanicums existed, "Wow, a battle scar from a living and breathing damned Skanicum! You are one lucky Indian. You can now tell the story the rest of your life with proof. "

Hank just looked at Matt with his trademarked blank stare and then voluntarily continued to relate his experience as they started to make their way back to the ranch following their same path as they had come, "They are a very sad beast, full of pain and emptiness. I could feel it when he looked at me and I felt sorry for it. There was also a strange communication between us but not words that men use and I felt his torment and anger at men. Why I don't know, but they hate us terribly. Most men also hate them and want to hunt and kill them, but I don't. Maybe that is why he didn't kill me because he knew I didn't want to kill him."

Matt, spoke over his shoulder to the General and Hank since he was in the lead, "How do you think the Minimum brought them back and where did they go when the solar flares were strong?"

Recalling his silent conversation of shared emotions with the Skanicum Hank's understanding increased as he thought out loud, "They have always been here." Hank paused as he processed the emotional images in his mind, "They never left, but because of the Minimum we just can see them now—somehow. Whenever there was low flare activity over the years, even for brief moments we are able to see each other, but they would disappear again."

"That actually explains a lot," said the General as he walked alongside his horse that was carrying Hank. "How many times have you been in the mountains and swore you were being watched?"

Matt, recalling his numerous camping adventures exclaimed, "Oh yeah, tons of times!"

"And it also explains why we see Skanicum tracks but never a Skanicum, or why one person swears they saw one but can never prove it—they've been here all along and our worlds only collide when the solar flares decrease, even if only for a day." The General rehashed again in his mind the words he just spoke and concluded he was right, "It explains everything. I now feel sorry for the poor suckers who actually saw one and would not be believed—they've been right all along."

Turning his thoughts from the Skanicum to the much more imminent danger of the army that was preparing to invade, the General called up to Matt, "Hold up, don't approach the summit before we can see what's going on down at the ranch."

Matt stopped and dismounted, then waited for the General to catch up. General Clancy left Hank and his horse and walked up to meet Matt near the summit. They crouched in the thick brush and surveyed the ranch below. Everything was quiet and appeared to be a typical autumn day on the ranch. The General asked for Matt's binoculars and began surveying the landscape in minute detail. Knowing the strategy and tactics of siege warfare, if there were any soldiers already at the ranch, he knew where to find them. After several minutes he handed to binoculars back to Matt and sighed, "They're already there, which means the encampment we saw behind us is the flank reinforcement intended to intercept us if we are able to escape the initial attack. They want us destroyed without any mistakes. The problem now is, Gus and everyone else at the ranch have no escape and we are sandwiched in between the force at the ranch and the force behind us."

Matt surveyed the ranch looking for the soldiers the General was talking about, "You have better eyes than I do, I don't see anything."

The General rolled over on his back and looked up at the high thin clouds that lazily drifted across the Montana sky, "Look at two o'clock west of the cabin, 20 yards into the forest."

"I got nothin'," said Matt not being able to see any Hmman form.

"Keep looking, bare in mind you're looking for someone who is expert at blending in with their surroundings." High thin clouds in northern Montana meant that there was a strong Jetstream blowing in a storm and the thinner the clouds; the stronger the high winds which also meant the storm would approach quickly, perhaps before nightfall. The General mulled over all of his years of training and combat experience but never had he been in such a hopeless situation with so little in his favor. Two men and a wounded Indian against two highly trained military forces one at the fore and the other in their rear was futile. If they had time to plan and more assets their might be a chance, but a slim one even still. The only hope was to discover a flaw in the commanding officer's plan.

"Ah! I see you now," exclaimed Matt breaking the General's concentration, "There are probably hundreds of them, all around the ranch."

The General sighed, "At least a hundred. We don't have much time before show time and I don't have a plan. The only thing in our favor is the storm that is coming but I'm afraid it will all be over by the time it gets here."

Matt looked up at the sky, "Storm, how do you know?"

The General pointed up at the high thin clouds, "I've spent enough time on this ranch to know that when the clouds get as long and thin like this, it is blowing a storm in off the coast. It will probably be here by tonight, but even if I'm right, I can't really see how it will help us in any significant way except that I'm certain the army is unaware of its approach."

Matt thought a moment and then replied, "We also know something else they don't?"

"And what is that Matthew?" said the General as he rolled onto his belly and looked down on the ranch again.

"We are not in the cabin as they think. That has to be beneficial," said Matt.

The General thought for a minute. A skilled military strategist would have known everything about the ranch before invading including the horse count and would have known that three horses were missing from the pasture today. He surveyed the higher elevations around the ranch and couldn't find any scouts looking for additional persons. This meant that the commander in charge wrongly assumed everyone was still in the cabin. This was an advantage as Matt had assumed and just like the approaching storm, they could at least descend upon the cabin unexpectedly. The General smiled as he realized he had found a flaw in the army's logic, but was it enough to give them even the most remote chance of success?

Given the instability of cellular and radio communications over the last few months in the United States, General Clancy knew that the army would now be relying on visual communication, which meant that once they attacked one soldier, others would know. The trick was to first determine where the sentries were posted and attack as many as they could at once and without a sound. Using their rifles was out of the question which meant they were weaponless.

Hank crawled up in between Matt and the General and having already surveyed the situation suggested, "There are only two soldiers between us and my hut, we take them out and I can arm us with bows at least, then we come up with a plan to free the others."

The General was a skilled bow hunter as was Hank of course, but Matt had scarcely held a bow in his hand to say nothing of being skilled enough to take out an armed foe. The General nodded, "We better leave the horses here so we can go unnoticed."

The three men quietly made their way toward Hank's hut and after crossing the small stream they saw the first sentry. The General made a mental note of his position knowing that all the other sentries would be similarly placed around the ranch. He concluded that the sentries were placed approximately 300 yards above the ranch and was about to mention this to Hank and Matt when he noticed that Hank was no longer with them.

Seeing the confused look on the General's face, Matt pointed at Hank crouching closer to the soldier not making a sound. As he got nearer, it was obvious that the soldier could hear nothing and was completely unaware of Hank's presence.

"Unbelievable! He is as quiet as a," Matt paused searching for an intelligent metaphor then just said, "as an Indian." The General looked at Matt and rolled his eyes, slapping him on the back of the head.

Reaching the soldier, Hank stood up behind him and looked around within the soldier's line of sight and could see other soldiers to the west and east, just as the General had suggested, all within line of sight. He crouched back down so that he could observe the movements of the two other soldiers without being seen and waited for the perfect opportunity. Then without a sound, he reached up and grabbed the soldier around the neck and pulled him to the ground. There was a very short struggle while Hank twisted the soldier's neck until it popped and all was quiet again. He put on the soldier's shirt and tucked his long hair under the helmet and stood up where the soldier was standing, and then motioned Matt and the General to advance.

For an old man, Hank was ruthless and deadly which caused Matt to marvel, "Sure wouldn't want to face him on a battlefield."

"You never would. He would kill you before you even arrived," said the General as they advanced toward Hank.

The General told Matt to assume the sentry's position so that he and Hank could go take out the other sentry near his hut. Matt placed the helmet on his head and put the green uniform over his T-shirt as the other two men made their way toward the sentry some 100 yards away. It wasn't long before Matt saw the soldier disappear into the brush and then reappear as if all was well. He gave a nod to the General and the General nodded in return dressed as a sentry. From their vantage point, they could both see Hank crawl through a back window of his hut and then in a few minutes return with a bow and a quiver of arrows.

Hank then disappeared into the forest without a sound, taking out the next three sentries that had a clear view of the back of the ranch house while the General and Matt made their way toward the fallen soldiers, taking their place and effectively opening up an area of 800 yards without a sentry while the remaining army was none the wiser.

Hank then returned back to his hut and climbed through the back window and after a few minutes, he was seen walking out his front door.

"What the hell?" said Matt softly as he watched Hank casually walk toward the ranch house, up the steps and through the backdoor. Matt looked to see if the sentry to his right saw anything and he saw the soldier give him a wave of acknowledgement, which Matt returned.

Whatever their orders were it wasn't to shoot on sight everyone they met. Obviously, they saw Hank as nothing out of the ordinary and since he was certainly not the target and they had no reason to suspect that they had been discovered, the army remained out of site and out of action, waiting for orders.

When Hank entered the house, he found Gus on the phone and getting more frustrated by the minute as his call would be dropped every few seconds and he would try again. His conversation was little more than, "Can you hear me now? And obscenities." Jess and Ted were discussing religion and faith but when they saw Hank enter the room they stopped and asked if he had seen Matt or the General that morning.

Even though Hank's expressions never changed, they could tell something was amiss and Gus hung up the phone and placed it on the table while they waited for Hank to speak. Hank looked around the room and at the windows knowing that he was being watched. While entering the ranch house was not a common thing for him, he had to make it look like it was and he sat down at the kitchen table and pretended to pour himself some coffee.

"While hunting this morning we discovered two armies of soldiers, one surrounding the house and another two miles to the northeast. We were able to break through the sentries on the backside of the ranch which enabled me to come in. We need to get you out of here before they strike."

Gus sat down slowly at the table as he considered what Hank was saying, "How many and where is Matt and General Clancy?"

Hank was a terrible actor but that didn't stop him from pretending to laugh so that the eyes outside the window would assume all was well within the house, "They are pretending to be the sentries we killed and are now waiting for us to make a move. The General doesn't think we have a chance in hell of getting out of here alive and he offered to give himself up since he thinks he is the only one they want."

Ted and Jess both looked at Gus waiting for him to respond, "I wouldn't be so sure about that. I mean, I'm certain they want the General to unify the military forces with the East but," Gus paused, "Toprak Esir announced yesterday that they refused to acknowledge the new President and that they were placing their support and military might with the West."

Ted ran his fingers through his hair as he slid back in his chair, "And they have declared that Gus here is the leader of the West, being that he is the most senior of the senate and the most-fit to lead a miss-guided nation back to order. They refuse to acknowledge or negotiate with anyone else."

"As you can imagine, this has put the East in a terrible frenzy—Gus is public enemy number one," said Jess pouring himself a real cup of coffee and taking a long drink.

Gus got up from the table and began pacing the floor, "How many soldiers to you think?"

Hank shook his head, "Two hundred maybe in the backcountry and probably one hundred around the ranch. They are waiting for some signal or sign before they attack, the General is sure of it—but of course he don't know what it is."

"They are waiting for Gus to make an appearance certainly," said Jess.

"And waiting for the General as well," added Gus.

The situation was very bleak and no one offered a strategy or even a silly suggestion as to how they might get out of the situation alive. They were surrounded on every side with a very strong flanking force to destroy anything that escaped the initial attack. However, the fact that they didn't just air strike the ranch meant that they wanted at least the General or Gus alive, and probably both. But that was probably the best-case scenario and Gus was sure that if things went sideways they would be ordered to just kill everyone.

Just then, Matt walked through the door winded from running and greeted everyone in his usual flippant demeanor. Hank looked at him in surprise, "What are you doing here?"

"Well, as I stood there I realized that the soldiers had probably been in position since last night at least and they must have seen me leave on my run. I figured if they wanted me dead they would have already thrown me off a cliff. Then it occurred to me that they might be waiting for me to return. So, I found a log and some branches and dressed it up to take over my post and came running down the trail as if all was normal."

Hank stood up and for the first time for everyone in the room they saw his expression change, "You stupid fool! They most certainly saw the three of us leave on our ride this morning too, now you return without a horse and without the General? I was lucky to walk in here without arising too much suspicion but now seeing you—certainly they know something is wrong."

Matt was alarmed at Hank's display of emotion and his own lack of strategy and forethought, "Damn! What have I done?" he said landing a powerful fist on the wall.

"Don't trouble yourself too much there my son," said Jess. "It was futile before you even arrived. Maybe you have aroused confusion enough that could play in our favor."

Ted sat considering Jess's comment with his hand to his chin, "We know nothing for certain but I am in agreement that if they wanted one or all of us dead we would already be fertilizing the pasture. My guess is they want Gus dead, and the General alive—and as far as they know, we don't know they are here, so we should continue to act like it. It will buy us some time."

Gus stepped further away from the window considering Ted's line of reasoning, "I think you are correct. Killing me would give Toprak nothing to work with and capturing the General would create checkmate for the military in the West."

"Both of which CAN'T happen," said Matt forcefully.

Just then a bullet broke through the glass missing Gus by only inches. Matt charged Gus and pulled him to the floor as everyone else hit the deck. Matt positioned himself between Gus and the window and whispered, "I guess they saw the sign they were waiting for—a clear shot at Gus. Hypothesis confirmed Professor Ted."

Several far-away shots could be heard at random intervals and Hank approached the window to see what was going on. He could see three bodies in the meadow as another soldier was running toward the house. He only got within a couple hundred feet when the General dropped him from his sentry vantage point above the ranch. Hank slid down to the floor shaking his head, "He is one hell of a shot to be able to drop four men at over 900 yards and only a single shot for each."

Gus crawled into the hallway where there were no windows and sat up, "This situation won't last long. They will soon be ordered to storm the house and I'm certain at this moment they are searching for the General, his shots giving away his position."

Hank considered what Gus had just said; knowing he was right—but then realized it was even more dire than that. If they wanted Gus dead, everyone else in the house was expendable and it was only a matter of time before they realized the man they needed alive was on the mountain and that they no longer needed to be careful with the bodies in the house.

Right on cue, bullets started raining down upon the house crashing through every window, and destroying the interior of the cabin as everything seemed to be exploding within. Hank lead everyone into the back hallway that lead to some stairs leading to the basement and they all crawled down the stairs to safety, at least temporarily. The problem now was they were trapped and it was only a matter of time before the shooting stopped and soldiers entered the cabin to destroy whatever was left.

Hank knew the General maintained a small arsenal of weapons in the basement and he opened the door to the armory and began handing out weapons and ammunition. Reluctantly, everyone took on several weapons each knowing it would be a short-lived battle but what else could they do. It would be a fight to the last man but to surrender was completely out of the question.

Just as they suspected, the firing sporadically stopped and they waited to hear footsteps above them but all they heard was silence. They all looked at each other confused as the minutes dragged on and on. Fifteen, twenty, thirty and an hour—still no sound of anyone in the house. Hank got up and made his way to the door that lead to the stairs and slowly opened it; Matt following behind him.

Peering out and fully expecting for bullets to fly, Hank pointed a rifle barrel out the crack, but no shots were fired and no sounds were heard. He opened the door a little wider and cocked his head upwards to try and look up the stairs. Just like the absence of sound, there was also an absence of any visual clue that anyone was in the house. Pushing the door open wide, Hank and Matt slowly walked up the stairs and into the back hallway. The cabin was completely destroyed and wood splinters and broken glass were everywhere. As they made their way into the kitchen they could see soldiers outside the window across the meadow dismantling and reassembling their weapons as if they had all miss-fired.

They watched the soldiers load their weapons and pull the trigger to no effect. They would then rip out the magazines, dump the unused bullets on the ground, reload and try again. Only occasionally would one of the soldier's rifles fire, but overall, every pulled trigger was ineffectual as if the bullets themselves refused to be fired. Hank and Matt looked on in amazement not knowing what to make of the situation and wondering how long the forced cease fire would last.

They could hear the others approaching cautiously from the back hallway and as they drew near they could see for themselves what was going on but were equally clueless as to the reason why.

"So under what circumstances do bullets stop working?" asked Jess.

Ted shook his head at what he thought was a rather stupid question, "Never, that's why bullets were invented. You can shoot modern guns underwater, right?" Matt nodded in agreement.

Gus then had a look of enlightenment come across his face, remembering his and Matt's visit with professor Winston at Oxford, the Minimum forces the ozone to fall to the earth's surface—effecting everything from crops to gun powder.

Ted was brilliant in most all subjects and started matching chemical compounds in his mind and running mental experiments and formulations, "Well, all explosions require an oxidizer but too much oxidizer can be as bad as none at all."

Matt turned from facing the window, "What are you suggesting, that the ozone can somehow infiltrate into the bullet cartridges nullifying the gunpowder?"

Ted shook his head, "No, not likely. I think the ozone nullified the powder when the casings were made. The ozone had already mixed with the powder months ago then, after they fired all of their initial rounds, their reloads were null and void."

Jess laughed slightly, "So we are now besieged by an impotent army and we are the only ones with bullets that work!"

Hank stood up but still avoided the open window that had been completely blown away, "Not necessarily, if they happen upon old bullets they will be back in business and we can't be sure if the General's ammunition is old or new—but, this is our only chance at an escape."

Hank went back downstairs and returned with several high-powered bows and as many arrows as he could carry. Luckily, the General was an avid bow hunter and he had enough firepower that just might allow them to escape into the forest that was four hundred yards to the north of the house. He started to explain to the group his plan when Matt got up and left the room and returned with the General's ceremonial sword, "I will be worthless trying to shoot one of those things. I'll be much more effective with this."

He pulled it out of the scabbard and inspected the blade. It was of very fine steel and surprisingly sharp for being a uniform decoration. He slid it back in the scabbard and returned his focus to Hank.

Hank was handing out assignments and was explaining his strategy, "I highly doubt any soldier in this day and age carries a bayonet so we will have the advantage, but only for a short time until they over-power us with their numbers. Since we have not emerged they may also think we are all dead or wounded and at the moment they all appear to be preoccupied with their own weapon problems, which should buy us at least 200 yards—placing us about halfway between the house and the cover of the forest. The remaining 200 yards will be a gauntlet I assure you. Do you understand how I mean?"

Gus nodded his head, "Indeed."

Hank pulled a quiver over his head and started to make his way to the door, "I will go first and try to make it to the blacksmith's shop where I will have some cover and where I can then cover you from any approaching soldiers. Then upon my word, all of you make a run for it. You will have to climb the pasture fences on both sides which will slow you down and make you an easier target. So space yourselves as you run so that you can cover each other if you are approached—I will do all I can to protect you but there is a limit to how many arrows I can shoot."

With that, Hank darted out the door as they watched him run completely unnoticed to the safety of the shop. He got himself into position, drew an arrow out of his quiver and placed it in the bow and then nodded, giving everyone else the signal to begin the run of their lives.

# Chapter 16

General Clancy emptied the magazine in his rifle for the third time and filled it with the last bit of ammunition he could find in the one of the dead sentry's gear. He walked over to his vantage point where he could see the entire northern end of the ranch and was just in time to see Hank making a run for it. He watched him as he ran through the large double doors of the blacksmith shop and then reemerged with an arrow in his bow, surveying the surrounding area.

Just north of the shop he could see a soldier well hidden in the brush up on the hillside looking at Hank through his scope taking aim. The General quickly drew up his rifle and placed the soldier's head directly in the crosshairs of his scope and pulled the trigger—click. He pulled it again and again—click, click, click. "Damn-it!" He threw the rifle on the ground and was about to run toward the soldier who was over 400 yards away then stopped, realizing that there was a very good chance the soldier's rifle wouldn't fire either. The General's heart was pounding with anticipation as he sat and watched the fate of his longtime friend rest upon a hope that his assassin's weapon would misfire. Several long minutes passed but it was really only seconds until the General heard the relieving sound of—click.

The soldier was also equally frustrated with his weapon and the General saw him throw it behind him in the brush, then draw his knife and charge from his hiding place with a wild yell as he ran toward Hank. For never having been a soldier, Hank was the greatest warrior the General had ever known and in a hand-to-hand combat situation, the General would wager all he owned on Hank.

Before the soldier even started to yell and make his charge, Hank had heard the soldier throw his weapon down and had already turned to face the direction of the noise. Peering through the crack of the door jamb where the hinges meet the wall, Hank watched the soldier jump out of the brush with knife drawn and running toward him. _Stupid fool!_ said Hank to himself shaking his head. He pulled back his bow and let the arrow fly. The arrow shot silently between the crack in the door and flew straight through the soldier's neck, knocking him on his back. The shot was deadly accurate and the soldier struggled only for a few seconds as his jugular bled out.

The General laughed quietly as he shook he head, "Man I love that Indian!" just as he was hit from behind by the butt of a rifle, knocking him to the ground and he rolled down the steep slope several feet before lodging against a tree. He looked up to see a young soldier standing above him with a knife drawn, shaking with fear. The soldier didn't speak and the General deeply respected his forced courage to obey orders and attack his enemy man-to-man. It was obvious that the soldier had no idea who his enemy was and upon seeing the General he was dumbfounded and didn't know whether to attack or run.

"Crazy isn't it?" he said to the soldier, "Who would have thought you'd ever be ordered to take out your own General?"

The soldier was frozen in speech and movement except for his involuntary shaking from the massive amounts of adrenaline coursing through his body. He looked at the General and in confusion slowly raised his knife.

The General stood up and looked the soldier in the eye. He could see even more how completely terrified and conflicted the soldier was, "Listen son, you are fighting for the wrong side, but the truth is, I don't care. This conflict which is quickly turning into a very ugly war will have many casualties; you just don't have to be one of them. You can come with us and help us try and restore order to the country instead of exacerbating it. Besides—do you really think you can beat me? I'm betting this is the first time you've ever gone hand-to-hand."

The soldier lowered his knife but didn't speak. He couldn't have been more than 20 years old, probably only two years out of boot camp. This assignment was much too advanced for his training but who would have guessed that there would be massive weapon failure. After all, this mission was probably seen as a simple extraction of civilians and one military officer—at his home.

"You're doing the right thing son," said the General as he put his own knife back in its sheath. Just then, an older soldier, most-likely his captain leaped from the brush, "You trading SOB!" as he thrust a knife through the young soldier's chest and pushed him down at the General.

The General caught the soldier and stopped him from sliding down the mountainside. The stab was mortal and the soldier was already dead in the General's arms. He laid him down just in time to push the captain's arm and the knife away from his face as he came rushing toward him. The instability of the slope caused both men to slide downhill several yards before coming to a small clearing where they stopped and immediately began an intense wrestling match. General Clancy was not only more experienced but also bigger than the captain and after the first few minutes, he pushed the captain away from him with his feet in an attempt to try and reason and save the captain's life.

The Captain quickly got to his feet and stared down at the General and paused trying to catch his breath. The General pulled himself up on his elbows as the captain took a step closer, "Don't even try to turn me you four-star traitor. "

The General laughed, "Is that what they are calling me now?"

The Captain took another step and pointed his blade at the General, "Washington just calls it like they see it."

"I see. Then I guess you have placed yourself at a very deadly impasse soldier and it appears one of us will have to die in the next 30 seconds—that decision is all yours." The General was still lying on his back with his knife in his hand but at his side as he supported himself up on his elbows.

Foolishly, the soldier advanced the last few feet toward the General and yelled, "It will be you!"

The General raised his arm and threw his knife landing it true and the soldier fell dead as his head landed in between the General's knees. "Who taught you to fight so head-strong and fool-hardy?" he said as he ran his fingers through the soldier's hair endearingly.

Looking up he thought he saw something move in the brush off to his right and he quickly got up prepared for another attack, but saw nothing. He slowly turned around and then placed his knife in its sheath feeling somewhat confident he was alone. He started to make his way down to the valley floor and back to the ranch when he distinctly heard movement behind him. Whirling around, he saw a creature about nine feet tall staring at him. There wasn't anything that could be done defensively, he had no firearm, he could never out run it and his seven inch blade was worthless against such large opponent. He would never get close enough to inflict any damage.

He was out-matched in every way and he had no idea how intelligent it was, so for several minutes they only stared at each other. The General then slowly took out his knife holding it by two fingers and dropped it on the ground as a sign of nonaggression. He then lowered his eyes and bowed his head signaling that he acknowledged the Skanicum as superior. With his head bowed, he raised his eyes slowly to see how the beast responded. The Skanicum turned and looked at the dead soldier and then back at the General. It was impossible to know what was going through the Skanicum's mind but the General hoped it was realizing he was not his enemy.

The General lowered his eyes again, then after several minutes, he looked up to find the Skanicum and the dead soldier gone.

* * *

Matt was standing at the back door of the ranch house waiting for Hank's cue to run. As he stood there he realized that the mad dash to the forest wasn't going to be that big of a deal since they didn't have to dodge bullets. Every foe would have to be within arm's length to inflict any harm. Matt laughed out loud slightly as he thought how similar this was going to be to playing professional football, except with deadly force— _this should be entertaining_ , he thought.

"What's so funny brother," asked Jess as he too was looking out the back door but with dread instead of amusement.

With a big smile on his face Matt put his hand on Jess's shoulder, "Brother, this is going to be just like running defense in the Playoffs, except this time the guys I hit won't be getting up. All I have to do is pretend like everyone out there is wearing an Oakland uniform." Oakland had been longtime rivals to San Francisco and were the reason San Francisco didn't go to the Playoffs three years in a row in 2023, 2024 and 2025 and even though Matt had been retired for several years, his hatred of their grey and black uniforms was still strong.

Jess shook his head, "Forever the joker."

Matt put his arm around him in a reassuring gesture, "My dear Jess, I believe God gave us the ability to laugh so that we can defeat fear and right now, I'd rather laugh than cry; but I'll tell you what, you cry and pray and I'll laugh for both of us—I've got your back brother. Ha ha!"

Just then, Hank gave the sign and Matt, taking the lead turned to the group, "It's game time people!" and he ran out the door with his sword drawn.

Thirty feet out the door, a soldier who was hiding behind the west side of the house ran after Matt with his knife drawn—the only weapon most soldiers had. Matt saw him out of the corner of his eye and turned around to meet him which caused the soldier to pause slightly when he saw Matt's sword but then ran after him throwing all concern and fear to the wind. With both hands on his sword, Matt spun around just as the soldier lunged toward him and after completing a full 360 degree spin, his sword sliced across the back of the soldier's neck, knocking him off his feet throwing him head first to the ground and he was dead before he hit the pasture.

Matt looked around to make sure there were no other soldiers coming toward him when he caught Hank's eye who gave him a head nod of warrior approval. Matt motioned to the others still inside the house frozen with fear to follow him. Slowly they all made their way out the door and after they reached Matt, they began to run toward the forest, Matt leading the way.

They cleared the blacksmith's shop and made it to the first pasture fence before any other soldiers tried to stop them. Three soldiers then approached from the forest and five others from the west, all running toward them. Most only had their knives but some had made long clubs out of large pine tree branches and they came at them raised, with their courage completely wound. Hank began dropping them as fast as he could fire, his aim being brutally accurate, as always. As the group cleared the fence, more soldiers appeared from the forest as did the General who immediately began attacking the nearest soldiers with only his fists. His presence attracted more soldiers in his direction and Matt could see Hank shift his focus toward the General, signaling him to engage the soldiers who were approaching the group.

In a full run, Matt charged the on-coming soldiers, running the most devastating defense of his life. He knocked the first three soldiers down with his fist and then began slicing his way through the charging soldiers with one arm and knocking others off their feet with his other. While he was contending with the soldiers who were still standing, Ted was shooting the fallen soldiers at point-blank range with a bow. Matt had received a few superficial cuts so far but as he ran the last soldier through he thought to himself, "This is almost unfair, bringing a sword to a knife fight."

Turning around and feeling satisfied that there were no more soldiers standing in the charging group, he look to see Jess and Gus clearing the last fence before the forest at the north end of the ranch. He motioned to Ted to follow and they both ran after them.

Matt then noticed Hank running from the blacksmith shop toward the General gathering arrows along the way pulling them out of dead soldiers as he went. The General was surrounded by four soldiers and while he was holding his own, there were a dozen more heading his way which is what caused Hank to run to his aid. Matt told Ted to catch up with the others while he went to help the General. Ted nodded and Matt ran toward the mob of soldiers with renewed strength. Matt, Hank and the General were greatly outnumbered by at least five to one, but their strength and skill were no match for most of the soldiers and the work of death increased as both Matt and Hank joined the General.

There were many soldiers in the army that did not fall in but stood watching in amazement and fear. Modern warfare was comparatively tame compared to the gross brutality, gore and mortal dread that hand-to-hand combat is and few solders could stomach the spectacle to say nothing of participating in it. The power and bloody display that Matt wielded with his sword kept many would-be joiners at a safe distance as they watched in horror as men were cut from limb to limb and fell like timber. Turning to be sure there were no more soldiers around him, Matt saw one last determined soul running toward him with a five foot club in his hand, swinging it in a determined frenzy. Matt quickly dodged the club as he felt the wind from the swing blow past his face and he landed a closed fist into the soldier's head knocking him to the ground. He was about to plunge his sword through his chest as he looked down at the soldier but seeing he was unconscious, he sheathed his sword and turned to face the General and Hank.

Hank was kneeling on the ground attending to a fallen soldier and Matt continued to scour the landscape looking for the General. There were over 30 dead and bodies and body parts spread all across the north pasture. It was a scene like nothing Matt had ever seen except in movies. The grotesque reality of it began to sink deep into his soul and as his adrenaline rush began to subside he groaned within himself at the senseless slaughter all around him. The nauseating rot in his gut reminded him of the first time he killed an elk with his uncle when he was 14 and his uncle insisted that he gut it and skin it himself. After the first cut and as the entrails of the animal were exposed and falling on the ground, he vomited several times before finishing the task. Over the years he had become desensitized to animal slaughter but today was different; today he had killed and dismembered men—MEN! It was then he realized that Hank was attending to the General and not some no-named soldier.

Matt ran over to Hank and fell on his knees, "Is he OK?"

Hank just turned to Matt with his expressionless face and shook his head. Matt placed his hand under the General's neck in an attempt to lift his head slightly when he felt blood, lots of blood. It was then he noticed as Hank did that the General had received a blow to the back of the head with a large tree branch-club and his skull was completely crushed. Matt was beyond enraged and immediately eaten-up with anger as he remembered the soldier he had just spared was carrying a large club and in his torment and rage, he got up and drove his sword through the unconscious soldier's heart. He looked down at the soldier he had just killed and the painful nausea returned to his gut flooding in on top of his unbearable grief over the loss of the General. He fell to his knees while both hands still clung tightly onto his sword and wept.

After only a few minutes, Hank approached Matt placing his hand on his back, "We must grieve tomorrow, more soldiers are coming."

Both men were covered in blood from the intimacy of the battle and Matt looked up at Hank, his tears streaking his bloodied face made him appear as if he were wearing war paint, looking menacing and very ferocious.

Hank helped Matt get to his feet, "You are a mighty warrior; very strong, brave—and wounded in your heart when you have to take a life."

Matt looked past Hank's shoulder and could see 40 or more soldiers running toward them. He reached down and pulled his sword from the dead soldier's heart and ran into the forest looking for the rest of the group.

They knew the general direction that Gus, Jess and Ted had run but after a quarter mile into the forest they still found no trace of them so they continued to climb the mountain assuming that they continued towards the summit which was about a two mile hike. After another quarter mile they had the good fortune of finding the General's horses that they had left behind earlier in the day when they made their descent upon the ranch. Wearily they mounted up and rode the remainder of the way to the summit obtaining a much needed rest.

After Matt's heartbeat slowed down and he caught his breath he remembered the second army to the north of the ranch, the very direction they were riding, "It sure seemed like there were more soldiers at the ranch than we initially thought. I wonder if the army to the north came around to assist."

Hank was thinking the very same thing, "Maybe so."

Hank was never much for words but Matt was hoping for a little more response to such an important question. So he continued to express more of his concerns, "I don't remember if we mentioned to Gus that there was an army to the North and I worry that we have sent them directly to them—gift wrapped."

Hank turned and looked at Matt as he just then realized Matt was probably right. He flanked his horse and began racing toward the summit with Matt following behind. As they reached the summit they still couldn't see any sign of the group—until they came over the top and they not only found the other three members of their party, but the entire north army advancing toward the ranch.

Gus, Ted and Jess appeared to be alright; in fact they were being treated as almost dignitaries instead of prisoners. Gus and Jess were sitting on the ground and Ted was pacing behind them, still with his bow in his hand.

"What the hell?" said Matt as both men slowed their horses and entered the encampment.

Just then Gus noticed Hank and Matt approaching and he waved and then shook his head in a gesture suggesting that what was happening was a little beyond belief. As they rode in, no one confronted them or seemed the least bit alarmed at their presence and as they dismounted, Gus tried to explain what was going on. "We were as surprised as you were when we came over the summit. We thought we had escaped the army at the ranch only to run into the barrels of a larger force, but as it turns out, this is a Toprak army not a U.S. army."

"What?" said Matt as he checked to make sure his sword was still at his side. "They look like a U.S. army. We actually saw them this morning back beyond that other ridge and we were certain they belonged to the U.S., even the General thought so."

Gus stood up and with Matt surveyed the troops all around them, "They certainly do look like ours and I've yet to hear any one speak anything other than good ol' American English. When they saw us, they approached us without weapons and shook our hands telling us that we were now safe. They then told us to stay right here while they brought their commander from the rear and assured us again that we had nothing to fear."

Matt processed everything Gus had told him but was still confused, "So—Toprak, the same Toprak who tried to kill you a few months ago and the same Toprak who destroyed the embassies and the same Toprak who is supporting the President?"

"One-in-the-same," said Gus as he sat down again just as a group of men on horses approached them.

Matt and Hank surveyed them closely fully anticipating an ambush. There were four men dressed as officers and one in particular was very largely built, probably close to seven feet tall and he rode a Percheron horse that was as equally large and standing over seven feet. It was the largest horse Matt or Hank had ever seen.

After the officers approached and dismounted, the largest man knelt on a single knee in front of Gus and placed a closed fist to his chest in a type of ancient military salute, "My Lord, my name is Horsa, your protector and servant. I and my men have come to assist you in bringing order to your country if you will bestow us with your will."

Gus looked around at the group confused, not knowing what to say. It was then that he realized that the General was missing. He looked at Matt with a worried look as Matt just responded quietly, "He didn't make it."

Horsa stood up upon hearing Matt's whisper, "Pardon me my Lords, you have lost one?"

Matt nodded, "General Clancy."

Horsa bowed his head in great respect, "I am very sorry to hear of this loss. He was a great warrior and I too honor and grieve for him as you do. He was a man of great reputation." He then turned to Gus, "My Lord, I beg you to give me and my men leave that we might destroy this army that has taken the life of one of your own and seeks to destroy the liberty of your country."

Gus was at a loss of what to say. On one hand he knew the army back at the ranch would eventually make their way this direction and without supplies they would not last long in the wilderness and on the other hand how could he deny Horsa? He knew he could not trust him but given the impossible situation he had no choice but to accept his offer and he couldn't help but think this was Toprak's plan.

Still uneasy and confused, Gus nodded, "Do as you will, and—thank you?"

Horsa climbed back atop his massive horse as did his officers and he gave an unsettling yell, "BIZ YOK!"

The whole army came alive with cheers and yells many of them repeating Horsa's words, "BIZ YOK, BIZ YOK!"

They marched over the summit and down the slope to the ranch fearlessly and within 30 minutes their movements could scarcely be heard leaving Gus and the rest of the party alone.

" _Biz yok_ —what does that mean?" asked Jess.

Gus stood up and started pacing, "We destroy—it's Turkish. What the hell is the Toprak army doing in northern Montana and how did they get here and what could they possibly want with me? I don't believe for a moment they are here to help us."

Everyone looked at Gus in equal confusion as Hank walked back over to the crest of the summit to watch the movement of the Toprak army. It wasn't long before they began to hear gun fire and a mighty battle ensue.

Upon hearing the gun fire, Matt ran over to the ridge next to Hank, "Well their bullets still work; this will be a very lopsided battle," and he was right. The Toprak army cut down the U.S. army without any resistance and they gave no quarter and showed no mercy just as the Toprak army was famous for. They continued until every last man was dead, then they scoured the surrounding hills and forests looking for stray soldiers in the darkness. Every once in a while a shot was heard as evidence the Toprak army was extremely thorough and disciplined. As Matt watched, it became evident why Toprak had the most feared forces in the world. Every soldier gave complete and unquestioning obedience to Horsa and every last man was fearless as well as ruthless.

Matt then noticed a light behind him growing brighter and he turned to find that Hank had made a fire and the group was warming themselves by it now as the cool autumn night descended upon them. Gus had considered escaping into the mountains to avoid being a captive of Toprak but he knew there was nothing between their current location and the North Pole and nothing for at least 100 miles in any other direction. As always, Toprak's plans were flawless and perfect in both conception and execution.

It wasn't long until they could hear someone approaching and they turned to see Horsa riding up on his massive Percheron. He dismounted and came and sat by the fire with the group, more casual than he was previously but still very respectful of Gus and the others.

After a few minutes, Horsa broke the silence, "Permission to speak freely my Lord?"

Gus shook his head, "Of course, but you need not address me as Lord."

Horsa turned to Gus and respectfully corrected him, "Are you not recently made Lord—my Lord?"

Gus was taken aback—how could Horsa have known such a thing. The ceremony was strictly private and he had told no one. He looked at Matt incredulously as Matt slowly shook his head and the others in the group looked at them both confused.

Before Gus could speak Horsa continued, "I'm very sorry; I have spoken out of turn. It appears your friends here were not aware of your ceremony in England, except for Sir Matthew here of course. But it's time they knew, don't you agree? It is my desire to make you Lord of this country."

Ted and Jess both turned to Gus, "What is he talking about? You a Lord and Matt—a something, whatever Sir means."

There was no sense in denying it now and before Gus could formulate a response, Matt dispelled the confusion in a very matter-of-fact way as only Matt could do, "Yes, yes—it was no big deal. Gus was made Lord Guiscard and I was knighted. It was a mere formality and bestowal of the King's trust upon us should things turn sideways here in the States—as apparently they have. It was nothing more than an honorary bestowal, like an honorary degree you can do nothing with but hang on your wall."

The titles given to Gus and Matt were much more than honorary but Matt hoped his explanation would pacify everyone until they could explain in detail and speak more freely and privately.

Horsa interrupted, "The important thing is, Lord Guiscard is Toprak's recognized leader in the U.S. at the moment and we have placed our support behind him, in an effort to restore the republic of the United States. The fact that he was made Lord only means that we can now also expect Mother England to assist us if we should need it."

Gus could still see questions in the eyes of Ted and Jess but rather than launch into a lengthy discussion involving his rationale for possible treason, he concluded the discussion with, "I'll explain later."

It had been an exhausting day and the group one by one all fell asleep around the fire including Matt and Hank leaving Gus and Horsa still awake. Neither of them spoke for quite some time as they sat looking into the fire, mesmerized by its flicker and flare. Gus was lost in his grief, sinking lower by the minute as he thought about the body of his dear friend General Clancy laying in the pasture below.

"You will be destroyed by it if you continue to feed it," said Horsa as if he could perceive Gus's thoughts.

Gus turned to Horsa pretending to not to know what he was referring to, "Excuse me?"

Horsa got up to place more wood on the fire, "I can see you are treading the winepress alone my friend that is a bitter path that starts with sorrow and ends with rage and then more death. I know I have followed that road to its deathly end. It is not a place you want to go."

"What do you know of sorrow and remorse? You have a certain reputation that would seem to negate anything you could possibly say about such things," said Gus irritated then realizing who he was addressing added, "With all due respect of course."

Horsa took a deep sign and he sat back down, " _Touché_ —I do have such a reputation but in my line of work it is a necessity for both my men and my enemies to understand. However," he paused and swallowed twice before continuing, "I met a beautiful woman in Russia during an invasion," he sighed and then continued, "An invasion of a town I didn't even know its name. They all look the same when they're on fire, "he said smiling slightly.

Horsa stared up into the star filled sky as he continued; "We met by starlight, very romantic. I first looked into her eyes as I turned around to see who had just stabbed me in the back. She had long black hair and to see such beauty while all around you is death and war was like seeing an angel. She fully expected me to kill her I think and if it would have been anyone else I would have but she had a power over me and in time she knew it. She never loved me in return of course and I never forced her to do so. I only forced her to travel with us as a sort of admired pet. After we sacked the town of Tejen in Turkmenistan I was tired and according to my brother, poisoned. I wanted to return home to Germany. Then we were attacked by a small band of rebel fighters the next morning and it seems their only goal was to kill Afet—that was her name." Horsa chuckled, "It actually means catastrophically beautiful, and she was certainly that. You know, the Muslims make their women cover their hair and faces to hide their beauty so men will not sin in their hearts while looking upon them—If only Afet had been wearing a veil that day she might still be beautiful. "

Gus was both surprised and engrossed in Horsa's story not knowing that someone so coarse could have such feeling, "So what happened?"

"The rebels skinned her from the neck up and hung her from a tree, no doubt punishing her for not wearing a veil," Horsa was silent for several long minutes, lost in a painful memory.

Gus finally, but slowly responded, "I'm sorry Horsa. I think that is the saddest story I have ever heard."

Horsa stirred the fire with his sword as sparks flew up into the midnight sky, "So—as you can imagine, I swore eternal damnation and hellfire on all the nations of Islam and I marched my troops to the borders of India laying everything waste I came in contact with. When Russia commanded us to stop our march I was left with an insatiable hunger for more revenge and nowhere to direct it. So that is why I tell you, don't feed your rage my Lord. Let me, my soul already belongs to the devil."

# Chapter 17

"Lady Veronica, wake up my Lady." Veronica's hand maid Corinna was gently shaking her as she slowly awoke in her favorite chair in the royal library at Kensington Palace. It was late in the afternoon and as usual Veronica had fallen asleep while studying the Winchester Chronicle, a very ancient text and the only copy of it left in the world.

"Pardon me my Lady but a taxi has just arrived with orders from the King for you to join them. It appears to be very important and they are in great haste. You must hurry." Corinna helped Veronica dress and prepare to see the King and within 15 minutes she was escorted to a taxi waiting in front of the palace.

As the door to the car was opened Veronica slid in and was surprised to find none other than the King himself waiting for her in the back seat. Veronica was expecting to be driven over to Buckingham Palace as usual but seeing the King in casual street clothes took her a few seconds to recognize him and when she finally did, she jumped and exclaimed, "Oh, Your Majesty!"

The King was already very fond of Veronica but her honest and spontaneous reactions to the world around her made him love her even more, "Dearest Veronica, you are a delight!" said the King laughing. "You make the world a pleasant place no matter the darkness of the day and sadly today is very dark indeed."

Veronica blushed slightly and nodded respectfully at the King in recognition of his kind words, then looked him in the eye and smiled gracefully.

"Veronica, you look lovely as always my dear but I'm afraid you will draw too much attention to us especially in light of where we are going. I must insist you put on something less—less flattering, if that is possible." The King was as awkward as a teenager and for the first time Veronica saw him in a situation where he was not in complete and commanding control. She laughed inwardly thinking that his only awkwardness and insecurity in life was over a woman's appearance.

Veronica assured the King it was no problem and as she was getting out of the taxi the King called to her and told her to be sure and bring an umbrella. Veronica looked up into a clear blue sky and then back at the King as if she had misunderstood what he just said to her. The King smiled and nodded confirming that she had heard him correctly, "Trust me—I am the rainmaker in this country, it will rain today."

Veronica ran back through the palace doors, undressing as she ran up the stairs then returned within only minutes in a very comfortable and well-worn pair of blue jeans, a T-shirt and an umbrella. Climbing back into the taxi the King smiled warmly at her as they both sat back in their seats and after a few minutes he said, "You look lovely my dear."

Veronica playfully hit the King in the chest as she would have done if the King had been anyone else in the world after such a ridiculous complement but she realized she had actually just hit the King of England. She didn't know what to say, if she should apologize or if she should even look at him. While she quietly contemplated her options she saw the King out of the corner of her eye laugh quietly, leaving a large smile on his face.

The taxi took them to the royal courts off Chancery Lane but then drove around to the back of the gothic building and turned onto Cary Street and stopped in front of a small and rather insignificant pub called the Seven Stars. Without a word, the King opened his own door as did Veronica and they walked into the dimly lit pub and stood inside waiting for their eyes to grow accustomed to the light. Being very observant for historical details, Veronica noticed the sign outside the pub said it was established in 1602. She stood placing the date of the pub into the historical facts she knew about London and realized that if this pub really was that old it would have survived the great London fire of 1666.

The pub was eerily empty and after a few minutes a short old man in his eighties approached them and without a word directed them to the back corner of the pub where a very narrow circular stairway lead them up to the second floor. The upper level of pubs were traditionally the living quarters of the pub keeper but as they reached the upper room Veronica noticed that it looked more like a library or a very old solicitor's office with many rows of books in a very ornate bookcase that covered the entire back of the room. There were four small windows that looked out onto the narrow street below which didn't allow for much light despite there being only a lace covering and no formal curtains. Consequently there were three oil lamps burning which accounted for all the other light in the room and Veronica noticed that there was no electric light on the ceiling nor were there any switches or plugs to be seen. The room looked like it had been unaltered and undisturbed for over 400 years.

The old man was breathing heavily from the walk up the steep stairs and after entering the room, he walked over to an open window and shut it cocooning the room in complete silence. Still without saying a word, he invited Veronica and the King to have a seat on a red velvet Victorian sofa that faced a very old, ornately carved sea locker. He then slowly walked over to the locker and placed his hand on the doors, resting for a few moments before opening it.

A sea locker was used up until the 19th century as a type of very large shipping crate by both sailors and travelers to stow all their effects. Some sea lockers were so large and heavy that they required block and tackle to hoist it on and off board. Many were richly decorated and ornately carved and some were so elaborate that they were used as a piece of furniture while on shore.

After the old man had caught his breath he reached into his vest pocket and took out an old skeleton key, inserted it into the keyhole and turned it. Nothing happened at first but then a series of gears and locks could be heard in succession starting at the top of the doors then down to the bottom. After the sounds stopped, the door slightly opened and the old man pulled them apart, opening them wide.

Just then, Veronica could hear it begin to rain outside and she turned to look out the windows and then turned to the King and smiled, "You called that one right your Majesty."

The King laughed slightly, amused with Veronica's ignorance, "It always rains when we open the Locker."

Veronica narrowed her eyes as she tried to make sense of what the King had just told her, again wondering if she had heard him correctly. She turned back and noticed that it was also raining inside the locker and she tried to speak but there was nothing to be said. It was definitely raining _inside_ the locker as well as out on the street. The only thing Veronica could do was turn to the King with an open mouth.

"I told you I was the rainmaker," said the King amusing himself. "You didn't think England could naturally have as much rain as it does—surely. Over half of it comes from the use of the Rain Locker."

Veronica was more than intrigued and was about to lash into a long series of questions when the old man began to speak for the first time but then was immediately cut short by the King.

"I'm sorry, but before we go any further I don't believe you two have been properly introduced. Things are not so sinister today that we must forgo manners and pleasantries." He then pointed to Veronica making the proper introductions, "This is Lady Veronica, whom you know but have never met. My Lady, Professor Moran just arrived from Belarus."

Professor Moran of course knew about Veronica ever since he tested her blood for Anglo-Saxon ancestry in the Toprak lab but this was their first meeting, "How are you Veronica, 'er—I mean my Lady," he said correcting himself. Veronica smiled and exchanged the proper greeting to Moran and then quickly interjected a question before they began doing whatever they were about to do, "I'm sorry but I must know what this is and how it works."

Moran looked at the King wondering if they had the time necessary to delve into the Locker's history. The King nodded and stretched out his hand gesturing to Moran that he had the floor.

"My Lady, the Rain Locker was first used by Alfred the Great—as far as we know. It is not completely known how he discovered its use but legend has it that he first discovered this place," said Moran as he pointed downward at the floor insinuating the location of the pub. "There is a very strong energy surrounding this spot and because of it certain gifts are greatly exaggerated and empowered, much like how the Minimum is affecting some things now. It is no coincidence that the Royal Courts were built across the street. It was felt that the increased energy source would assist the judges and juries to make wiser judgments."

Moran walked over to a nearby chair and with a slight grunt sat down and then continued, "It was Queen Elizabeth's last and very secret imperial order to turn this building into a public house in 1602, in an effort to protect the place and keep it secret from the Stuarts. Previous to that time, this building was considered a royal residence, though we have no record of any royalty living in it. It was of course a place with a royal guard to protect the Locker. As you well know, Elizabeth was the last Tudor and James was the son of Mary and a Catholic and in Elizabeth's mind could not be trusted with such power. For 60 years, this upper room and the locker were kept very secret and only the most loyal were trusted with the knowledge of its existence. As you also know, this period in English history was very unsettled and peppered with civil war and puppet kings. Then in 1662, when William and Mary II took the throne its use was once again a part of the royal prerogative and it has remained so ever since. Of course it is no accident that this was one of the only buildings to survive the great London fire."

Veronica shook her head, completely fascinated, "So what does it do?"

Moran got up from his chair with the same grunt as when he sat down and walked toward the locker, "Well, among many things, we are about to show you one of them. You might not think this is all that powerful given modern-day communication but considering its history and the current circumstances in the U.S. at the moment, it is quite remarkable."

Moran got up and placed his hand inside the locker turning it over several times and then pulled it out and wiped his wet hand on his shirt, "But alas, the connection is not yet made. Their must also be a storm at the location you are attempting to reach in order for the connection to be made. We were told western Montana was expecting a storm today but it must not have started yet."

The King got up to stretch his legs and walked over to a window and stared out at the storm as it increased in its intensity. The King had spent many long hours throughout his reign looking out onto the English inclement weather. The grey wet sky allowed him to think more deliberately without distracting mental wandering into nonsensical unrelated paths. He stood for several minutes watching the raindrops make hypnotic circles in the puddles on the street below, "Water is an incredible element, capable of so much more than getting us wet and quenching our thirst. Water is an envoy, a harbinger of sorts, with an incredible memory under the right circumstances."

The King continued to stare out the window at the storm for several more minutes then resumed speaking, "Professor, perhaps we should close the locker and give our countrymen a reprieve; after all, it is a Sunday."

Moran got up and closed the doors and after a few minutes, the rain began to dissipate and the clouds thinned allowing more sunlight to enter the dark room. Science was not one of Veronica's strengths and the King could see her struggling to grasp the connection of the locker and water. He turned from the window and walked slowly across the room with his hands behind his back, "During the early part of this century, it was discovered that water could retain energy, both positive and negative. I assume you have heard of holy water?"

Veronica nodded, "Of course."

"It is very real and has been proven to be much different than unblessed water on a molecular level," the King sat down again next to Veronica and continued his science lesson, "Positively charged water, freezes into very ornate and beautiful crystals. Negatively charged water crystals are mere frozen mass with no beauty, structure, form or pattern—it is just frozen. Water has the natural ability to communicate and transfer energy from one host to another and from one place to another. We could assume our ancient ancestors were ignorant to such scientific enlightenment but we would be sorely wrong to assume such—very wrong indeed."

Veronica began to connect the dots as it were between the Locker and water, "So, using the natural properties of water and the inherent energy of this location, our energy in the form of words can be relayed to a distant place?"

Moran, being a true educator was excited to see his pupil grasp a concept, "Exactly my dear, but not only place, but also time. As you know, Einstein proved that time is a relative continuum."

Growing more excited as her understanding of the science grew Veronica slid forward on the sofa, "You can communicate to the dead and the unborn with this thing?"

Moran smiled at Veronica's excitement, "Conceptually—only conceptually. The use of the Rain Locker still requires a skilled divinatory and as you will see here shortly, it also requires a tremendous amount of spiritual strength to direct the energy to the right place and person. I have never attempted it myself but there was one—at least one that we know of who was able to use it with tremendous skill."

"And who was that?" asked Veronica.

"William Cecil," said the King placing his hands behind his head and extending his legs. "He was Queen Elizabeth's—the first—most trusted advisor. In my opinion, he is why she was such a consummate monarch. She certainly had wisdom well beyond her years, always did and from a very young age. William Cecil was always with her, grooming and educating her for the crown. On several occasions we know he was able to use the Locker to gather knowledge from the past to bring to light the unknown plots of the present."

Veronica, still making connections and gathering enlightenment, "Oh!" she said pointing to Moran, "You are the King's Cecil!"

Moran only nodded slightly as the King began to laugh, "That's how it works, always has. Professor Moran is my Merlin that is for certain."

Veronica sat back, pleased with herself but then remembered that Moran also said the Locker could be used to communicate with the future, "What about communicating with the future?"

"Again my Lady, conceptually—except the future is much more difficult. You must be very keen and exacting on the personage you wish to communicate, the future by definition is unknown—and how does one communicate with someone they do not know?" said Moran.

The King got up and opened a low cupboard below the bookcase that spanned the entire length of the back of the room and pulled out a decanter of scotch and pointed it at Veronica asking her if she would like a glass, "Oh—thank you, but no. I am an alcoholic failure I'm afraid. Spirits and Veronica don't mix well."

Veronica watched the King pour himself a glass as she looked at Moran and then back at the King wondering why he did not offer him a glass, "The Professor cannot have any alcohol in his blood since blood is mostly water and alcohol has a most terrible effect on stored energy."

Veronica thought for a moment about how alcohol made her feel, "That explains a lot for me," but as she watched the King take a drink she reconsidered, "maybe I'll have just a sip."

The King handed her his glass and after a very small sip, Veronica choked, "Whoa! I thought this was Scotch!"

The King, enjoying Veronica's always-honest responses to life laughed, "It is but I must apologize. The energy here ages spirits most amazingly. This bottle is only a few years old and is from the royal distillery in Norfolk but the effect of it being in this room makes it taste as if it were many hundred years old."

Veronica took another sip now that she was prepared for the effect, "Wow! That is the most amazing drink of anything that has passed my lips and slid down my throat!" She slid back in her seat enjoying the clean after-burn as she noticed several rays of sunlight making their way through the windows as the evening sun began to set, "So if you were to leave the locker open would it rain incessantly?"

The King returned to the sofa and placed his glass on the small and very old looking table in front of them, "Indeed it would—and has I might add."

Moran got up and slid his hand along a string of carvings on the locker, "The destruction of the Spanish Armada to be precise. This relief was carved into the Locker in 1589, the year following the event."

Veronica got up to inspect the carving Moran was touching and could see several dozen ships in various stages of sinking under a great storm carved into the Locker. Looking at the detail further she noticed men jumping from the ships and drowning in the enormous waves—hundreds of them, "So that miracle storm was the Sea Locker?"

"It was indeed. I don't need to tell you the history as I know you could relay it better than me," said the King. "However, the history books have excluded the details. In 1588, Elizabeth had been on the throne for thirty years but as you know her claim was always threatened by Scotland, France and Spain. England at the time was very inferior to France and Spain in terms of wealth and power, especially since her father Henry the VIII had broken with Rome. Philip of Spain was determined to destroy Elizabeth and all the Protestants on this rock with her so he assembled the largest naval force ever assembled in that age—130 ships of sail. Elizabeth was more than over powered and while they were in the Channel she did all she could which was to send out fire ships into the Spanish fleet. It was only effective in temporarily disrupting the Armada and they reunited on the North Sea as you know, preparing to invade the north where forces were weak and nearly non-existent. Elizabeth knew she was out maneuvered, out manned and out gunned."

Veronica loved history and as she anticipated what the King was about to tell her, the room began to take on even more significance as she slowly walked around the room breathing into her soul the history of the place as the King continued, "Desperate, Elizabeth and Cecil came here and contemplated what they could do to preserve England. Cecil opened the locker and against Elizabeth's pleadings, he reached out to Alfred the Great for advice. Elizabeth records that he tried nearly continuously for 12 days and on the 12th day, Cecil says he heard only four words come from the Locker in response to his question of how to defeat the Spanish Armada—It is already done."

Veronica smiled and nodded as she began to understand what had happened, "So the Locker was open for 12 days in a row and that was what created the miracle storm that destroyed the Spanish fleet?"

"It was the worst continual storm anyone could remember in 1588 and it literally consumed the fleet. Out of 130 ships, only 50 made it back to Spain and over 5,000 men were drowned. They say their bloated bodies were washed up on the shore for weeks afterwards. So—now you can understand why Elizabeth kept this room a secret from the Stuarts?"

Veronica shook her head in amazement, "Indeed I can—and the rest of the world." Veronica then smiled with amusement as she considered the name of the pub, "Hmm, that's clever."

"What is?" asked the King.

"The name of this pub—The Seven Stars. Talk about hiding such power in plain sight."

The King was not aware of any such symbolism and asked Veronica to explain, "How do you mean?"

"The Seven Stars—mentioned in the book of Revelations in the Bible? You are not aware of the reference?" said Veronica surprised that she knew something the King didn't.

The King smiled, "I was told the pub was named after astronomy symbolism—the seven classical planets, the Pleiades and the Big Dipper—Ursa Major. If you know of another reference, please enlighten me."

Veronica leaned against a window sill, "Well, in the first chapter of Revelations, St. John is told to write on seven scrolls and he is to send them to the seven churches which are symbolized in the scripture as stars. Pretty fitting that they called this communication center the Seven Stars don't you think—meaning communicating with all."

Moran was impressed, "Very good my Lady, what else is rather profound is there are also seven continents and ancient texts use the number seven to represent the Holy Spirit—which of course is the testator or revelator—communicator. The number seven is everywhere in our world and every culture in the world considers the number seven sacred on some level. However, I would wager if the Spaniards knew of this place they would liken it more with Revelations 1:16 where the seven stars are sharp like a doubled-edged sword."

The King stood up and walked over to the locker and opened the doors, "Shall we see if we have rain in Montana Professor?"

As the doors opened, the rain slowly resumed outside and Moran pulled his chair directly in front of the Locker and sat down. He rubbed his hands on his face clearing his mind, gathering mental and spiritual strength. He sat quietly for several minutes with his head bowed and then with a deep sigh, slowly raised his head and stared into the locker as the King and Veronica intently watched.

Veronica could see a small light emanating from the back of the Locker which looked like it was a mile deep in the darkness. It slowly began to grow brighter and then faded like a distant approaching car on a winding rode in pouring rain. Then there was a loud screech like the sound of cold steel grinding to a stop and the dim light arced very brightly causing the King and Veronica to shield their eyes.

While their eyes were still closed, they could hear Gus's voice emanating from the locker, "...A braver, stronger man there never was and we are all better for having our lives touch his. God receive his soul and..." Gus paused as his voice began to quiver and after a few minutes he resumed in an angered and broken voice, "Forgive me God—but we needed him here!"

Veronica opened her eyes in horror at what she thought she heard and screamed, "Matt—no, not Matt!" and she began to cry with Gus in bitter despair as she looked into the locker. She was surprised that not only could she hear Gus, she could see him and an area of approximately five feet around his person. She could see Gus standing next to a grave site and a body wrapped in an Indian blanket lying on a mound of dirt as she continued to weep assuming that the body in the blanket was none other than that of Matthew Hector. The King walked over and put his hand on Veronica's shoulder and she turned and cried into his chest as he held her.

Gus, hearing Veronica's voice looked around confused not knowing where the sound came from and then slowly said, "Veronica?"

Veronica turned to face the Locker and between sobs spoke to Gus, "Oh Gus! How did he die?" she cried as a renewed flood of sobs choked out her voice.

Gus was still very confused and continued to turn in circles calling her name, "Veronica my dear, I can hear you, but where are you?"

Veronica then saw Matt walk into the view in the Locker asking Gus what the hell he was doing, assuming Gus had completely broken down and he placed his arm around him, "It's okay Gus."

Veronica gasped, "Matt!"

Matt looked around just as Gus had and slowly said, "Veronica?"

Gus looked at Matt, "You hear her too—good. I thought I was going bloody mad."

Veronica's tears turned into a relief of laughter as she rushed toward the Locker, "Matt—Matthew it's me I can see you and hear you, can you hear me?"

Matt and Gus were still confused as to how this was possible and Matt hesitantly responded, "Yes—we hear you, where the hell are you?"

As the true reality continued to set in and as Veronica continually realized that Matt was indeed alive, she began to cry again, this time for joy, "I love you Matt."

Matt was taken by surprise twice, once at hearing Veronica's voice thousands of miles away in Montana and then hearing her tell him she loved him. He was still looking around as he said in a distant and confused tone, "I—I love you too? How is it I can hear you? Where the bloody hell are you?"

Now that the shock and tears had subsided, the King stepped forward to reduce the confusion, "Lord Guiscard, It's the King. We are contacting you through the means of a very ancient method we can explain to you later. You can only hear us but we can both hear and see you. It only works so long as the rain is falling so we had best relay our business quickly since we cannot control the weather."

Veronica stood watching Matt and she quietly gasped at Matt's appearance. His face and clothing were still covered in blood from the battle the day before and the rain had made him appear even more abhorrent. The entire group—Matt, Gus, Ted, Jess, Shay and Hank had all ventured down the mountainside in the night to bury the General's body and make sure it had not been desecrated by the U.S. soldiers. They had dug a grave in the north pasture with an oil lamp for light and they were just about to place the body in the ground when they were interrupted by the Rain Locker herald.

The King quickly got down to business, "Lord Guiscard, it is most urgent that we tell you we have reason to believe that Toprak's general is in the United States looking for you—but by the looks of things, you may already know that."

Gus got the King caught up on the most recent events in the United States and how Toprak seemed to be fighting with them instead of against them. The King insisted that Toprak could not be trusted under any circumstance no matter how sincere Horsa appeared to be. Gus verbally concurred but the King was not entirely convinced Gus agreed with him, "Gus, Horsa is a ruthless animal of destruction—YOU CAN NOT TRUST HIM!"

Gus just nodded, obviously distracted with the death of the General and his incongruous talk with Horsa a few hours ago around the campfire.

The King was frustrated but continued with his urgent agenda, "The Middle Eastern forces invaded Bulgaria last Wednesday—the assault on Europe has begun. Both Romania and Greece have joined with the Bulgarians but I don't expect they will last out the month. The Middle Eastern army is massive with over a half million troops and equipment, with more joining them daily. Toprak officials deny it of course but I suspect they are the rear army who is pushing the vanguard forward."

Matt stepped forward assuming control of the conversation, "So we have Toprak pushing the assault in Europe and parading to be the saviors in America? I think their plan is as plain as their name—they are capturing the world, and they are doing it all at once."

The rain started to let-up in Montana and the communication began to break slightly causing the King to speak more quickly, "We need to get you all out of the U.S. as fast as possible before Toprak reveals their true plan which is to destroy the United States, _not_ save it—at which point it will be too late. We have seen how they can totally displace and destroy nations in the Russian wars. I'm certain that is their plan for your country. I will be sending a private atmoscraft to Glacier Park International which is as close as I can get to where you are. How long will it take for you to reach that airport?"

Matt turned to Hank and waited for him to respond. Hank was not standing within the five foot circle so they could only hear Matt as if he were talking on a telephone, "How far away is Glacier International?"

"By car I would assume."

"Horseback?"

"I see."

Matt had figured out the direction of Veronica's and the King's voices and he turned to face them making it appear he was looking through the Locker, "Hank feels we could drive it inside four hours, twenty by horseback, riding overland. He thinks we might have trouble getting away from the Toprak army and that we'd have better chances at an escape by horseback—I think he is right. After all, we are their prisoners not their sovereign."

The King was relieved to hear Matt's clear thinking, "Well said Sir Matthew. I will send a transport straight-away. It should be there only a few hours after you arrive if you leave tonight."

Just then a loud explosion shook the Seven Stars Pub and the King and Veronica looked at each other startled, "What was that?" said Matt.

The King walked over to the window and looked out cautiously, "We're not sure but whatever it was it was very large and very close."

They could hear sirens and panic in the street and Veronica turned to the King with a worried look, "Do you think we are in danger?"

The King was wise enough to be worried but not panicked, "I don't know, but we had better get to safer ground." He turned back to the Locker just as Moran began to groan and shake. He knew he couldn't touch him whilst a herald was in process so he knelt down to look at his face and he could tell Moran was in terrible pain.

Just as he was about to close the locker door Moran began to speak, "Gus—Gus, my dear friend."

Hearing Moran, Gus looked directly back through the locker with narrowed eyes, "General Clancy?" He then turned to look at the body of the General wrapped in the Indian blanket and then back through the Locker confused.

Moran was in terrible distress but continued to speak, "Don't bury my body, leave it be—Skanicum—mortal renaissance... "

The storm in Montana was quickly dissipating and the communication was breaking up fast making the communication mostly unintelligible as Gus struggled to understand, "Don't bury your body—Skanicum—what?"

The communication was coming to an end and the King also determined that Moran couldn't take much more of whatever was going on and he walked over to shut the locker doors as Veronica held one of them back looking at Matt. They both looked in each other's eyes as the herald faded. Matt held up his hand as Veronica reached into the Locker and then pulled out her wet hand, placing it to her lips as the King shut the door.

Moran immediately collapsed, reeling in pain on the floor as his whole body quivered, "Will he be all right?" asked Veronica as the King stroked his head.

"I think so. A locker herald is always taxing but whatever happened there at the end—I've never seen him so convulsed." The King lifted one of Moran's eyelids and checked his pulse, "I think he will return to us shortly."

Just then another explosion could be heard, this one not as close as the first and the King looked around nervously. He was noticeably upset by not knowing what was happening to his country. Moran stopped shaking and slowly resumed consciousness as the King and Veronica helped him get to the sofa.

"What happened?" asked the King as he got Moran a glass of scotch.

Moran's speech was slurred at first but then became clearer as he spoke, "The corpse in Montana, the General as they called him intercepted the herald somehow and it seemed to rob me of all strength as he spoke. I had no control, it was as if I was completely possessed." He paused and then continued, "But not in an evil way, not like demonic possession. It was completely overwhelming and—what the hell is Skanicum?"

The King shook his head, "I don't know but for the record, William Cecil is not the only one who can reach into the past and speak to the dead. You are amazing Professor."

Moran slowly pulled himself up taking a long drink of his scotch, "Maybe compared to some but I can't imagine being in that state for a minute longer. To think Cecil did it for 20 some odd hours—I can't imagine. He was the amazing one"

With the Locker shut, the rain outside stopped and the sky began to clear. The sun had long since set and the King was anxious to get back to the Palace to learn what was happening in the city. Veronica and the King helped Moran to his feet and they slowly made their way down the narrow stairway.

As they walked through the dark pub they could see their taxi through the windows still waiting for them and they made their way out the door and into the back seat. The King tapped on the glass to signal the driver to return to the Palace but there was no response. Moran leaned forward to get a better look in the front seat and though he couldn't see much in the darkness, he knew something wasn't right. He got out of the car and walked to the driver's door and opened it.

The driver's eyes were rolled back into his head with a glazed stare. Moran knew in an instant what was happening and he quickly pulled open the back door of the taxi, grabbed Veronica's arm and began to pull her out, "Toprak harbinger, we've got to get out of here—NOW!"

They ran across the narrow street onto the grounds of the Royal Courts complex when a menacing shadow of a very large man appeared before them, "Hello Veronica."

They all froze not knowing how to respond or what direction they should run. The man reached out and took Veronica by the arm as the King stepped forward to challenge him. With one swing of his free arm, the King was knocked to the ground so decisively he lay there in surprise at the stranger's strength, "Pardon me gentlemen. I don't have business with you unless you intend to stop me from retrieving my lord's property."

It was obvious that the man did not recognize the King and it was certain that no one would suspect that the King would be wandering around London in the dark in the midst of so much chaos, but he also couldn't just let this man take Veronica. The man turned and walked into the darkness as Veronica struggled violently, fighting for her freedom and screaming. The man reached out with the back of his hand and landed a blow across Veronica's face knocking her immediately unconscious. Seeing Veronica—one of the King's most beloved friends handled so cruelly, filled him with rage and he jumped to his feet and rushed at the dark figure but was met with a very large, closed fist which knocked him off his feet and he landed with a dead thud on the cold lawn.

It was obvious that their driver was a Toprak harbinger and that he had alerted Toprak when Veronica was away from the safety of Kensington Palace. They saw their opportunity and they acted immediately. Moran knew that Veronica was an important part of Hengist's plan but he could never find out why. All he could do was watch the man carry Veronica over his shoulder into the darkness.

# Chapter 18

Matt stood in the heavy rain, completely soaked, staring into the darkness and listening to the echo of Veronica's voice telling him that she loved him over and over again. He wondered if she really meant it or if she was only relieved to know he was not dead. In his waking dream, he remembered the first time he saw Veronica at the Harvest Festival in Northern California and how he wanted so much to date her but the circumstances were complicated and it was impossible to know if Veronica reciprocated any liking for him due to her being fall-down, barfing drunk. Matt's longing quickly turned to self-disgust as he remembered his cold response to her expression of love and he repeated his words to her, "I love you too? What the hell Matt, way to be convincing—responding to her with a question. I'm such an idiot!" he whispered quietly.

As much as he wanted too, Matt couldn't fixate on Veronica with so much urgent business at hand. He turned to the group and saw Hank and Gus unwrapping General Clancy's body as they laid him on the wet grass of the pasture. They all stood and looked at him, everyone confused at what to do next. Jess walked over and placed his hands on the General's cold body and muttered some kind of prayer as Gus recited to Hank the words he heard the General speak through the locker, "Skanicum mortal renaissance?"

He turned to Hank hoping he would have an explanation but Hank just shrugged his shoulders and stared at the General's body. There was a long pause as the group all stood around the body, half-way expecting something miraculous to happen. In frustration, Gus walked over and placed the blanket over the General's body, "As if losing him wasn't enough—now we have to just leave him here in the rain? I don't know which is more painful."

The group quietly agreed with Gus but no one spoke for several minutes and then Hank whispered, "It's the painful lessons that are the most important."

Matt was the only one who really understood what Hank meant and he agreed completely. Not only was the manner in which the General died preventable with better group fighting tactics, but the memory of his blundered conversation with Veronica was like poison passing through his body. He vowed the next opportunity he had to speak with her; he would not hold back his feelings. Just then they heard a mournful howl in the distance and they all stood up looking in the direction it came from and then looked at each other.

Hank picked up the oil lamp and began walking toward the shot-out cabin, "Skanicum coming—we should leave the pasture."

They all filed into the cabin and everyone found a place to lie down, shaking wood splinters and broken glass off what blankets they could find. Sleep came quickly to them all and in what seemed like only minutes, the sun was shining through the broken windows and one by one they all staggered to their feet as Gus was preparing a pot of tea for himself and coffee for everyone else.

Shay stood looking out the kitchen windows that opened out to the north pasture and while holding his coffee with both hands, warming them in the cool autumn air exclaimed, "Where are the dead soldiers?"

Everyone else walked over to see what Shay was talking about and to their surprise, all of the dead soldiers were gone, not a body was found anywhere.

"I know they were there last night because I tripped on several as I walked in here," said Jess as he opened the door and walked toward the pasture followed by the rest of the group.

Every last body was gone including the General's and Gus walked around to the east side of the cabin to where the Toprak army had camped for the night and there were several soldiers sitting around a smoldering fire but most were still sleeping. He then turned to Hank, "That howl last night, that was Skanicum? What are they and what do they do?"

Hank relayed all he knew about the mythical Skanicum and as he concluded he paused for a moment and remembered the encounter he had on the river bank with a Skanicum as a child, "They are not all bad—at least I know of one that seemed to have Hmman qualities and my experience up on the ridge seems to suggest that they are capable of distinguishing between Hmmans with good intent or evil intent. I once assumed that the stories of Skanicum harvesting the dead were just stories, but I see it is true. We can only hope that the Skanicum can still determine good from evil among the dead."

Jess was still trying to place the Skanicum into his religious perspective of the world and trying to understand their role as a creature created by the hand of God and then asked Hank for clarification, "What exactly do you mean by harvest?"

"The same reason man harvests the corn," said Hank without any emotion as he walked back into the cabin. The expression on Jess's face was one of horror as he at length realized what Hank was saying.

Matt sat down on the back stairs and Gus came over to join him, enjoying the warm morning sun and after a few minutes Gus spoke slowly and very deliberately, "I had a long conversation with Horsa last night and..."

"I know," interrupted Matt.

Gus didn't speak for several minutes wondering how Matt felt about Toprak after hearing Horsa's sincere desires to help them regain control of the country. Gus wasn't completely convinced Toprak's motives were pure, but for the first time he didn't see them as the great evil he once thought they were and after several minutes he continued, "I must admit, I am conflicted—and while I don't believe Toprak's motives are pure, I am more inclined to trust them than the President, mostly because Toprak isn't trying to kill us today."

Matt interrupted again, "But they were a few months ago."

Gus sighed and after a long pause, which underscored his confusion he breathed a painful, "Yes," as he remembered that terrible day in his office and holding Veronica in his arms, dead. He shook his head in an effort to physically clear the memory from his mind and change the subject to something more pleasant, "So—it was very good to hear Veronica's voice. She seemed very well once she realized you were alive."

Matt turned to Gus unable to contain the pleasing smile coming to his face, "Indeed it was." The truth was, Matt couldn't stop thinking about her and ever since last night he had tried to recount every word she had said and the more he rehearsed her words, the more he was intoxicated and bewitched by them, "How was that possible? It was like an experience taken from a page out of some medieval chronicle."

Gus chuckled slightly shaking his head, "I haven't a guess. That is something we will have to take up with his Majesty. It is very clear that he has a firmer grasp on things than we do—of course. I guess that is why he is the King—hmm?"

Hearing Gus talk about the King and address him as 'His Majesty' took Matt back to the time they spent in England, his knighting and the powerful feelings of duty that distilled upon him then. He suddenly began interpreting their current circumstances with warrior eyes and with the heart of a lion. He jumped to his feet no longer able sit with so much purpose hitting his bloodstream, "My Lord, given our current gentle capture with Toprak, we have little choice than to participate in the charade. At least until the opportunity presents itself to part company. As for the King's transport, we will just have to hope God aligns our timing and our paths."

Feeling Matt's renewed fever, Gus was also awakened to a sense of duty and also stood calling the group inside the cabin, "Sir Matthew is right, we have little choice than to go along with Toprak for now and it appears it is their plan to conquer the United States—and given the fact that we are apparently public enemy number one, maybe we can use them to remove the President. It is a gamble of tremendous proportions I realize."

Gus paused before he continued as he was about to expose his and Matt's secret, "My apologies Theodore and Jess for keeping this from you but I believe when you have heard what I am about to say, you will realize why I have waited until now. Horsa was absolutely correct when he accused me of being a Lord of the British Crown, and Matthew being knighted. Veronica has also been grafted into royal privilege and has been bestowed the title of Lady. She is currently residing in Kensington Palace—for safety."

Jess was more intrigued than irritated with Gus for withholding such information and he started his first round of questions, "Surely this was highly irregular for the British Crown to do such a thing—especially after their embassy was bombed on our watch. Why did they do it?"

Gus determined it was time to show all his cards, "I have always been a British citizen, maintaining dual citizen citizenship. I realized at the time and now that this is treason but all the while and over all these years, it seemed the right thing to do—and it still may prove to be of even more value. It has already preserved our lives or at least our detainment while in England and it has paved the way for an alliance between us," he said pointing the group in the cabin, "and the King, which perhaps may be the last saving grace for this country—but there is more. I'm not sure how this directly applies to the current crisis but it seemed to have tremendous importance to his majesty. Veronica and I are related of sorts and our bloodline is of pure Anglo-Saxon descent—very rare we have been told. As you may not be aware, the Saxons invaded the ill-defended island nation of England in the first century and have ruled it ever since."

Ted was quickly putting the pieces together and interrupted, "Making you and Veronica undisputed heirs to the throne?"

"I don't know about that—surely there are royal lineages that supersede any claim that Lady Veronica and I could have but the English Crown has always been highly interested in preserving and identifying the Saxon bloodline," said Gus somewhat quickly before Matt interrupted him.

"Gus is being modest, history has shown time and time again that persons with pure Anglo-Saxon blood cannot be defeated or conquered. That is why the King has extended a saving branch to us," said Matt pointing to the group. "With a private army the size of Toprak's running unchecked in the world; we are fighting for the liberty of mankind, not flags."

Matt saw Gus look at him with a look of surprise at his knowledge of English history as he retorted, "What?—I can read."

Gus shrugged and then continued, "Our first goal is to get ourselves to Glacier Airport, his Majesty is sending a transport for us which should be there in less than 20 hours. Hank thinks we can get there in only a few hours if we can drive but a couple of days overland. The route we take will depend entirely on what the Toprak army's plan is."

Ted was ready to do something useful which in his mind meant getting out of Montana, "So when will we know what Toprak's plan is?"

Just before Ted started to speak, Gus could see Horsa coming across the pasture obviously very surprised that all the dead soldiers were gone and as he started up the back steps Gus responded, "Any second."

Just then, Horsa opened the cabin screen door, "Good morning gentlemen. I would ask you how you slept but given your tired expressions I can tell you didn't sleep at all and you spent the night burying the dead!" He laughed in amusement, "Mass grave?"

The group's response was delayed since no one knew what to say or if they should even say anything at all, then Hank volunteered, "No, Skanicum."

Horsa was confused, not ever hearing of such an animal named Skanicum, "What's Skanicum, some kind of American bear?"

Before anyone could speak Matt quickly ended the discussion with, "Something like that."

Still maintaining his sincere charade, Horsa turned to address Gus, "My Lord, I apologize and I regretfully inform you that I and my captains held a council of war early this morning without you and we have determined that our first order of business should be to secure all the airports in the area and then from there, make our attack on the area military bases. This will provide us with the stronghold we require to then make further advances into the interior of the nation. With your blessing, we shall dispatch immediately."

Thinking quickly, Gus took a visual vote by looking at the faces in the room and then turned to Horsa, "Your plan is both very sound and wise Horsa, we shall be ready to move within the hour, however I must insist that me and my friends travel with the company that will descend upon Glacier International as we have business their ourselves."

Gus and the rest of the group held their breath as they waited for Horsa to respond. After several seconds Horsa pretended as if he had no reservations whatsoever, "Very well my Lord, you shall travel with me and my company," and he saluted with a closed fist to his chest, nodded to the remainder of the group and walked out the screen door. Passing one of his guards he leaned and whispered in his ear, "Move all my effects into the Glacier Company's van. I will be moving out with that group now it appears."

Matt sat down in emotional exhaustion as his thoughts once again turned to Veronica.

* * *

Veronica rolled over on her side as she opened her eyes and tried to determine where she was. Her right cheek was throbbing with pain and she could feel the swelling pushing up into her eye. She started to put fragments of memories together and remembered screaming, being pulled away from the King and Professor Moran into the darkness. She then remembered getting the back of a hand to her face and that was all. She concluded that she must have been knocked unconscious. She then sat up on the bed and looked around the elegantly decorated room.

The bedspread was made of pure silk, dyed a deep blood red as she took note of all the teak and gold accents and ornate hardwood flooring and determined that she was on a ship. It was then she realized the ship was moving. She walked over to the port windows and could see city lights on both sides of the ship, _We're_ _on the Thames_ , she thought as she also concluded that she was headed east to the English Channel and from there, who knows.

She quietly walked over to the cabin door and with little hope of if being unlocked; she pulled down on the handle and to her surprise, it turned and the door opened. She paused for a moment trying to come up with a plan and determined that it was rather hopeless since she didn't know anything about the ship she was on—other than it appeared to be very large—and she didn't know anything about the man who abducted her. She then remembered the man saying something about her being his lord's property. Remembering the details of the incident made her angry and she said to herself, "I am no man's damn property." She opened the door and stepped out into a long hallway with teak flooring and brass handrails leading in both directions.

She couldn't know for sure which way lead to the deck so, she took her best guess and started walking until she came to a companionway with steep stairs leading upwards. She grabbed hold of the railing and slowly climbed up to the open deck. She had guessed right and she was near the stern of the ship and looking forward she could see the bow over 100 feet away confirming her suspicion that this was indeed a very large ship. She couldn't see anyone else on deck in the darkness and looking around she also noticed that this was no ordinary ship. While it appeared to be very new, it was a tall ship with three masts and in the light breeze coming off the city, they had a full spread of canvas in an attempt to harness every last bit of wind.

She walked over to the port taffrail and looked out at the lights of London pass by. In the distance she could see several large fires burning and she rightly concluded that they were the result of the explosions they heard earlier in the evening. She didn't know the city well enough to recognize any landmarks until she looked forward and could see Tower Bridge with its bascule leaves opened and prepared for the tall ship to pass under it. Tower Bridge was—as always—beautifully lit and Veronica stood admiring it as they drew closer and then eventually under it. She marveled as she was able to inspect its beautiful architecture up close and for a moment forgot she was a prisoner.

"Well good evening my Lady—lovely evening isn't it? Perfect for a float down the Thames wouldn't you say?"

Veronica was startled and she jumped at hearing the voice of the same man who abducted her in the city.

"I beg your pardon my Lady, I didn't mean to frighten you—and please accept my most sincere apology for what happened in London," the man bent down on a single knee and bowed his head, "please forgive me I beg you."

Veronica looked down at the man in amazement, "You steal me away from my friends, knock me unconscious and you seek my forgiveness?" Veronica turned her back on the man and looked at the city lights in disgust and anger, "Go to hell!"

As she stood at the taffrail she waited for a reprimand or another blow to the head but nothing came. She could hear the man get to his feet and then walk over to her and she could see him her out of the corner of her eye standing at the taffrail to her left.

The man took out a cigarette, lit it and took a long drag as he threw the match overboard, "Beauty, bravery and balls—you're one hell of a package I'll give Hengist that. Although, we'll need to do something about that swollen cheek before we reach Morocco or his lordship will have my head for damaging his property."

Veronica's fuse was lit (again) and she turned to the man with her teeth clinched, "I am no one's PROPERTY! And if I you want to survive this night, you will drop me at the nearest port. I have very powerful friends."

The man laughed, "I know you do, the King of bloody England for starters. The problem is my Lady; no one knows where you are or who I am—and in case you are wondering, we planned it that way," the man laughed again at his Hmmor and then apologized. "I beg your pardon my Lady. Lord Hengist would be right displeased with me if he knew I was so casual with you."

He threw his cigarette over the railing and turned to Veronica, "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Warin, the Captain of the guard at Toprak Esir—at your service. We will be sailing for approximately 10 days—depending on the weather—arriving in Tangiers, a very beautiful port town on the Strait of Gibraltar. I dare say you will enjoy it very much. It doesn't quite have the nostalgia of Casablanca but it has its own charm and old-world comforts."

Veronica was still fuming and stood with her hands tightly grasping the railing biting down so hard that her teeth began to ache. She finally took a deep sigh and recognized that there was no way she could over-power her captors but there was a good chance she could out think them. The first thing she needed to do was convince them she was somewhat resigned to her fate so that they would hopefully become complacent. Veronica turned to Warin and spoke in a resigned tone, "So—what's in Morocco that warrants me to be taken there as a prisoner?"

Before Warin responded he whistled to a man at the fore of the ship and yelled, "You there, fetch the doctor." A voice in the darkness responded, "Yes sir, fetch the doctor." She could hear the command repeated quietly somewhere below decks several times and Warin then turned his attention to Veronica, "You mustn't think of it that way my Lady."

"But it is that way!" shot back Veronica.

For the first time Veronica could detect sincerity in Warin's voice and he turned to her compassionately, "Perhaps at this moment but with every passing hour you are becoming our distinguished and very royal guest. You need not fear for your life my Lady. You are now on the right side of things although it will take you some time to see it that way."

Veronica sighed and shook her head just as a man approached her from the stern of the ship, "My Lady, allow me take a look at that swollen cheek and see if we can't improve things—hmm?"

The doctor led her back down to the great cabin to attend to her wound as the ship approached East Tilbury, the second to the last bend in the Thames before heading out to open sea. Veronica stared out the port window into the darkness and prayed that the King and professor Moran were looking for her.

* * *

"Get up slowly Your Majesty; let your wits settle back into you. There is nothing to rush to your feet for, we have been over powered in this round with Toprak," explained Moran as he helped the King get to a sitting position.

As the King sat leaning up against a tree on the lawns outside the royal courts he waited for his clouded mind to clear, slowly remembering the events of the last hour, "You're sure it was Toprak?"

Moran put his arm around the King's waist as he insisted on standing up, "Your mind is still a little mossy your Majesty. Toprak is the only enemy Lady Veronica has. Besides, the man who carried her off was none other than Warin—the captain of the guard. Hengist only sends him on the most exacting errands. He is cunning and politely cruel. He could hack off your head with his fingernails and profess his love for you until you lost consciousness."

The King, getting command of both his body and his brain, placed the last missing pieces of memory that allowed him to make sense of the entire situation, "So if you knew that man then..."

"Then, yes, I am exposed," interrupted Moran, putting an end to the conversation.

They both walked back to the Seven Stars pub neither of them speaking as they tried to digest what had just happened and what their next move should be. It was only a matter of time before Warin met with Hengist but at least he had a few days. Toprak did not use modern communication and since Hengist was still most likely in Morocco, it would be at least a week, maybe more before Warin had an audience with Hengist. Moran knew that Toprak spies and traitors were quickly disposed of and he wondered if the King's protection would be sufficient to protect him. His thoughts were then interrupted by the King's voice talking on his phone, "Yes, yes I am quite fine. Please dispatch a car to the Seven Stars, unmarked please. No, only myself and the professor, Lady Veronica will not be joining us."

As they entered the pub, the King was on another call, this time with the London Port Authority trying to determine if a Toprak vessel was in port. After several minutes the King hung up his phone in disappointment, "No record of any Toprak vessel in port over the past 24 hours. They must be using an alias," said the King as he sat down on an old wooden chair in the empty and dark pub.

After a few minutes, the King got up and walked over to the bar, He returned to with two pints of ice water and handed one to Moran, who looked at it in somewhat of a surprise, "Ice in water, very American."

"Yes, America has given the world a great deal but none perhaps more refreshing and mind-clearing than ice in water. I have become very partial to it over the years and frankly the warm tap water in Europe leaves me feeling somewhat ill rather than refreshed," said the King as he sat down at a table and took a long drink, then sat his pint on the table, "What is Hengist's interest in Lady Veronica, besides her Saxon blood?"

Moran, like all Toprak employees knew nothing of the grand plan of the company and what knowledge he did possess only allowed him to perform his job and nothing more. He knew all there was to know about her blood work but why it was important to Hengist, he could only guess, "Sadly, I could never discover why Anglo-Saxon heritage was important to Toprak. I can only guess that they want it for the same reasons you do."

The King sighed, "I fear you are correct my friend. Hengist is a lot of things but foolish isn't on his list, except when it comes to recreating history. He wouldn't risk so much to steal her away unless it was vitally important to his master plan. Ironically, Veronica is perhaps the only person capable of understanding it. Her grasp on medieval history is rather astounding and greatly enhanced since I sent her the Alfred copy of the Winchester Chronicle."

"Did you indeed sir, and how did she receive it?" asked Moran.

Just then a car pull up in front of the pub and they both made their way out to meet it. Before getting in, Moran checked the driver to make sure he was not a harbinger in heralding mode and after a short conversation; Moran was satisfied sufficiently to get in.

As they pulled away from the curb, the King resumed their conversation, "She has not been able to put it down for weeks and I am told she has read it a half dozen times. The Duke of Devonshire also tells me she has made an impressive stack of notes and every time he visits her she is always in the library."

Moran's response was drowned out by another loud explosion 100 yards in front of the car as the driver slammed on the brakes, causing the car to drift sideways into a parked lowery. After the car had come to a sudden stop, several more explosions could be heard and it seemed obvious to the driver that continuing west was impossible and he turned the car around hoping to connect to the A4 motorway and from there head west to Buckingham Palace.

Explosions could be heard at shorter intervals all around them as the driver struggled in vain to find a clear path to the motorway, any motorway—a building adjacent to the car exploded into the street, blowing out all the windows in the car and rolling it onto its roof as it came to a sudden crash on the opposite side of the street. In the smoke and darkness, Moran reached out to find the King but all he felt was broken glass and then his own blood oozing from hundreds of cuts on his hands as he frantically shuffled through the glass to find the King's body in a confusion of smoke and twisted metal.

After a few minutes Moran could see slightly better as the smoke and dust began to clear and he saw the King's body lying partially out the window—not moving. Even amidst the chaos, Moran was careful to conceal the King's identity as he called out, "William—can you hear me? William?"

The King didn't respond and as Moran reached him he took his pulse on his neck and determined that he was indeed alive, just unconscious. He rolled him over on his back and saw that the glass from the window hit him in the face and the entire right side of his head was a mass of blood with shards of glass of varying sizes protruding out of it. Moran pulled the largest pieces out with his already bloody hands as the King came too. For the second time that night, Moran advised his King to move slowly as he struggled to sit up, "You appear to be all right your Majesty, but we will need better light and better skilled hands to remove the rest of the glass from your face."

The King raised his hand to touch his face and felt the glass embedded in his skin like the quills on a hedgehog, "That's going to take some time to heal," he said trying to lighten the situation. He then felt his right eye after determining he could not see out of it. There were several large shards embedded and after he touched them he felt a searing pain shoot from his eye to the back of his head and down his back as he groaned.

Moran knew he had to get the King medical help but as he looked around in every direction all he could see was fire and destruction as more and more explosions could be heard in the distance. After a few minutes Moran finally was able to determine where they were—which was somewhere near the A201 off St. Bride Street. As he looked southwards, he could see a small passage where it appeared they might be able to get across the motorway and to safety—he hoped.

"Do you think you can stand Your Majesty?" asked Moran as he looked down at the King. As the dust cleared even more, he could see the Kings face was bleeding heavily and while Moran knew that head wounds always bleed more than any other cut on the body, he knew he had to slow the bleeding especially if they had to walk some distance to safety and to get help. Moran took off his shirt and one by one began to pull the glass from the King's face, using his shirt to protect his hand from the hundreds of sharp slivers. Once he had removed what glass he could, he wrapped his shirt around his head, leaving an opening so he could see out of his left eye.

As the King got to his feet he enquired about their driver as Moran shook his head, "He was thrown from the car and didn't land well."

As they made their way down the street to the small clearing in the debris, Moran noticed that the very concrete was burning, not just the materials one was accustomed to seeing burn. They emerged on the other side of Fleet Street into a narrow alley less than 12 feet wide. Many of the buildings that bordered the alley were not burning except for small patches of concrete here and there and Moran began to see a pattern to what was burning and what was not. Everything modern, newer than 1950 he estimated was an inferno while older buildings and concrete structures appeared untouched.

As they walked down the alley, they came to a large retaining wall and the King insisted that they scale the wall since the very old St. Bride's Church on the other side might be a good place to rest for the night. Moran gave the King a leg up and they entered the church to find many other city residents with the same idea. There were hundreds of people huddled in every corner of the church and the clergy was doing all they could to attend to the hungry and wounded. As they proceeded into church, they noticed a dark corridor containing a large sheet covering the increasing number of dead bodies.

As they searched for a place to sit, they were approached by the rector who was acting as a triage nurse. He instructed them to have a seat anywhere on the floor as he apologized for the lack of space, "We shall do all in our power to attend to you as soon as possible," then noticing the make-shift bandage in the poor light that was drenched in blood he asked, "Oh dear, what have we here?"

The rector reached to look under the bandage as Moran stopped his hand and held on to it, "My friend took a window blast to the face and is suffering badly, is there a doctor with you?" said Moran still holding the Rector's arm.

The rector tried to free himself from Moran's grasp and replied somewhat irritated, "No—no doctor, your friend will have to wait like the rest."

The King nodded in agreement and was about to sit down on the cold stone floor when Moran stopped him with his other hand and looked around to see if anyone was paying any attention to their conversation. He then leaned over and whisper in the Rector's ear, "This is His Majesty the King."

The Rector looked at the man with a shirt wrapped around his head in disbelief as Moran slowly removed the shirt, "Good Lord Your Maj..."

Moran put his hand on the rector's mouth to stop him from giving up their secret and after the Rector nodded, Moran removed his hand and the Rector directed them to the back of the church to a narrow stairway that led down to the crypt. As they made their way, Moran noticed that portions of the church had been on fire throughout the night and a large portion of the south roof was missing. Arriving in the crypt they noticed it wasn't a crypt at all but a small chapel appearing to have been constructed during the Roman period.

They were all alone in the basement chapel, which was the design of the Rector for bringing them there and he lit a dozen candles on a small alter which reflected off the white-washed walls, illuminating the small medieval chapel with a surreal bath of golden light. Moran removed his shirt from the King's head and the Rector inspected the damage, "The Archdeacon is the most skilled of all of us, which isn't saying much but you should have the best we have Your Majesty."

The Rector made his way upstairs and whispered in the Archdeacon's ear about the urgent issue they had in the basement and within a few minutes the Rector returned with the Archdeacon and water to clean the wound. As the King was being attended to Moran was finally free to analyze the events of the night and began a scientific deductive reasoning session in his mind.

"Under what circumstances does concrete burn? Whatever it is, it only effects concrete newer than 1950—and how did Toprak infiltrate London so completely—and why? Veronica was now safely in their care so obviously they no longer were concerned with what happened to the city—but why destroy it?" After a time, Moran was able to overcome his initial shock and horrors at what had happened to the city and apply critical thinking to the situation, "Of course!" he said out loud.

Despite the Archdeacon's meticulous work of removing the glass from his face, the King responded, "Of course what Professor?"

Moran walked over to the King and knelt down at his side, "This wasn't Toprak."

The King turned his head to look at Moran as the Archdeacon insisted that he hold very still, "How can you be so certain?" replied the King without turning to face Moran.

Moran positioned himself so that the King could see him, "The sheer scale of the operation for starters. How could any enemy infiltrate a modern city of this magnitude—the entire city seems to be burning?"

"The whole country you mean," interrupted the Rector.

The King sat up in alarm, "What! Bloody hell—what did you say?"

The Rector bowed his head in both regret and respect, "Your Majesty. We have heard reports of destruction and fires from the North Sea to the Channel and even on the continent—all unofficially of course."

The Rector and the Archdeacon helped the King lay back down as Moran continued explaining his theory, "This proves my hypothesis even more. Did you notice on our way here that the oldest buildings in the city appeared to be unharmed and in fact all the structures along Bride Street were largely untouched? That is because every structure there is at least one 100 years old or older."

The King and the two clergymen were confused and they looked back at Moran intently waiting for his explanation, "Every chemical explosion requires an oxidizing agent and a substance that is reduced. Ever since we left the car I couldn't think of a single compound in concrete that would react in such a manner until I thought of the Minimum effects. The Minimum has been causing the ozone in the atmosphere to descend closer to the earth this whole year, which as you already know is responsible for the poor crop yields."

The King nodded as the clergymen were obviously confused but still nodded, encouraging Moran to continue, "Ozone is an oxidizer but still there has to be something within the cement or concrete to cause a reaction and that's when I realized that almost all modern concrete today contains fly ash—a by-product of refining. It contains high levels of arsenic, which is combustible when an oxidizer is present. In an ordinary world, this presents no risk but I don't have to tell you we no longer live in the ordinary world."

The Archdeacon continued to remove shards of glass from the King's face as he spoke, "So all concrete structures newer than 1950 will be or already are destroyed in the country?"

Moran nodded then added, "I believe so, but not just the country but indeed the whole world."

The Roman basement chapel grew very quiet as everyone internalized what the Professor was suggesting and quiet laments could be heard from the two clergymen as the Rector crossed himself and prayed a silent prayer.

"So we are about to plunge head-long into the 19th century?" sighed the King.

Moran shook his head, "No, more like the fifth. Every manufacturing facility is being destroyed every cell tower, every dam, every sidewalk, every convenience we rely upon is being swept from the earth tonight—and what's worse, most people living today cannot survive in a fifth century world."

# Chapter 19

Warin awoke to a knock on his cabin door and after the third rasp he finally responded somewhat irritated and hung-over, "Enter," he grunted.

A young sailing master named Bart entered the cabin obviously disturbed and he stammered slightly as he began to speak, "Um..."

Warin was already frustrated for having been awakened at such an hour during the middle watch and a lack of confidence was something he never tolerated in his crew, "Speak up boy!" he shouted angrily.

The Sailing Master was responsible for navigating the ship and while Bart was very skilled at his profession and had directed the ship accurately toward Tangiers over the past 10 days, he was troubled over what he didn't see in the early morning light. Collecting his thoughts and clearing his throat he continued, "Beg your pardon sir. We have been in latitude 35 in the Strait for the past four hours and, well—we should be able to see the lights of Tangiers at this hour and they are not there."

Warin sat up rubbing his hands over his face, "Not there, what do you mean? Are you sure we are where you think we are?"

Bart shook his head, "Yes sir, absolutely sure sir."

Warin and Bart climbed up the companionway to the open deck and stood at the port taffrail staring into the darkness. Even though they were still at least 15 miles out, there were no lights to be seen of any kind from the port or the city. Warin thought for a moment and then concluded that whatever the problem, it wasn't good news and that they should take every precaution. He leaned on the rail and after lighting a cigarette gave his orders to the Sailing Master in a non-alarmed, matter-of-fact way, "Wake the Chief Officer and tell him to report to me here."

"Yes sir," replied Bart saluting and he disappeared below decks.

Warin knew that Islamic towns had odd routines and practices compared to the West but he didn't know of any such event that called for a blackout. He wondered perhaps if there was a heavy marine layer and that the city lights were simply shrouded. Regardless, Toprak policy had always been readiness and first strike so rather than waste strategic energy on the cause of events; he shifted his thoughts to naval and military tactics as he heard footsteps approaching him from behind. Without turning around he gave his orders to the Chief Officer, "Wake the crew and beat to quarters."

Still without turning around, Warin heard his Chief Officer acknowledge the order and then repeated it back it him in old world naval tradition. He then heard the officer go below decks and the familiar rousing of the crew as the ship slowly came to life. Toprak ships were run in old marine time fashion and within a few minutes Warin heard the drums signaling all hands to report to quarters. Warin threw his cigarette over the rail and went below to put on a shirt.

All hands were dressed and at their posts within 10 minutes and all was quiet, waiting for orders or action to begin. After several minutes the order was given for all hands to remain at their posts at ease. Warin made his way back to the taffrail in full uniform and again stared into the fading darkness south of the ship where he should have been able to see city lights.

"What's all the excitement about?" said Veronica as she joined Warin at the rail.

Warin greeted Veronica respectfully and then replied, "Nothing."

Veronica laughed slightly, "This is a rather odd time for a training exercise especially after your night of drinking. You look like hell."

Warin nodded in agreement since he felt like hell as well, "It really is all over nothing. The problem is there should be something." Warin pointed to the south into the darkness, "We should be seeing Tangier city lights by now but as you can see, there is nothing."

Veronica scanned the horizon as a soft breeze began to blow and she wrapped the blanket she took from her bed around her tighter, "What does that mean?"

Warin took a deep breath and sighed, letting it out slowly, "We don't know, but we should be prepared and expect the unexpected. Something just isn't right. I've never seen such a complete, wholesale blackout of an entire city before. Usually when there is a power failure it affects only a few grids and there is always emergency lighting especially at the port."

Shortly after the ship assumed battle formation, the wind dropped and the captain ordered every stretch of canvas to be set and the ship sailed on into the darkness toward Tangiers. The unknown on a calm flat sea caued their progression to be painfully slow. After a long hour a silhouette of land could finally be seen five miles to the south as the sun slowly illuminated a red Mediterranean sky.

A red morning sky for sailors generally meant an impending storm in the next twenty-four hours but this red sky was different. It wasn't the usual deep tangerine so typical of mornings on the Mediterranean. The sky above Tangiers was blood-red and as the sun rose higher in the sky the cause became evident. Massive amounts of smoke were in the air from horizon to horizon, choking out the sunlight and cooling the air by 15 degrees off normal. Sailing onward the crew one-by-one slowly broke from their stations and flocked to the taffrail. Each one stared in disbelief at the port and the surrounding city.

In the early morning light, the once familiar Tangiers skyline only showed several mosque towers amidst an entire city of burned out rubble. There were dozens of hotspots still smoldering through heaps of black ash all along the coast in both directions and as the ship drew within gunshot, not a soul could be seen anywhere. No one on deck spoke as the entire crew stared on in disbelief. The Port of Tangiers was completely destroyed and its former location was scarcely discernible.

Warin gave the order to come about so that they could skirt the coast and look for a suitable landing location, being very careful to steer clear of any debris in the water. There were several large container ships that had sunk where they stood in the port and for several miles the shoreline was littered with pieces of docks, buildings and countless ships. Veronica was the first on deck to speak and concerned, she turned to Warin who was standing next to her at the taffrail, "Was there a war?"

Warin was deep in thought and took several minutes before responding, "No, I'm fairly certain there was no war but I can't explain how an entire city can be destroyed and leave only a few dozen buildings untouched in the midst of so much destruction. It's as if..." He was about to launch into a discussion about the powerful effects of the highly secret Toprak ozone canister bombs but then thought better of it and just concluded, "As if it were deliberate."

Warin now began to wonder if Hengist was still alive and without a harbinger on board he couldn't communicate with him. During the first night out of London, Warin's harbinger received a pentacode and went berserk, killing two crew members in the galley with a meat hook. Warin, not wanting to alarm Veronica any further by firing a gun on the ship, slit his throat and threw him overboard along with the other two dead crew members. Warin turned to the Chief Officer on deck in a loud voice that broke the heavy silence, "Fire a volley off the coast and let's see if we can awake anyone on shore."

The Chief Officer saluted and with a quick acknowledgement of only, "Of course," He went down to the gun deck as the rest of the crew waited for a round of loud blasts from the guns, but nothing was heard.

"Anytime now Number One—anytime!" Warin said sarcastically.

Just then the Chief Officer was seen walking up behind Warin and said clearing his throat, "The guns will not fire Sir. We tried every gun on board."

Warin turned around quickly becoming more frustrated by the second, "Won't fire?!"

The officer bowed his head and offered no more explanation, "Yes Sir."

Warin took a rifle from a marine standing on deck, aimed it in the air and pulled the trigger—click. He pulled it again and again, each time the rifle ejected an unfired bullet from the magazine, click, click, click, click, "What the hell is going on?!" He grabbed another rifle and then another, each with the same result, "It's a bloody well good thing we're the only ship on the ocean since we're a sitting duck!"

The crew was dumbfounded and looked at Warin and then back at the coast in a state of confusion. Every crew member possessing a firearm began trying their luck as random clicks could be heard around the deck, everyone testing their weapon. After several dozen impotent clicks there was a single shot that fired, catching the sailor completely unaware, as he yelled out in alarm. The effect of a single gunshot in the deathly silence of the morning was like thunder and it resounded for what seemed like minutes as it slowly echoed into nothingness over the coast of ashes.

The ship continued to sail eastward with very light winds on a sea of glass, drifting along the coast as all hands were directed to scan the coastline for any movement or signs of life. As they sailed on, the scene of complete destruction continued. Not even a single tree could be seen, everything was burned to stubble but then as they skirted around a small peninsula, they saw what looked like a very old mosque of sorts with the only trees and vegetation for miles. Within a few seconds of seeing the mosque a call was heard from the crow's nest, "On deck there—man on the beach!"

Warin rushed to the port side of the ship with a pair of binoculars and could see a man waving his arms in distress, trying desperately to get the ship's attention. As Warin studied the first man, he could see another approaching limping badly but walking as fast as he was able and after focusing on him he could see that it was Hengist. Warin called out to the helmsman to get as close to the beach as possible, paying very close attention to the depth and then when they were as close as they dared go to drop anchor and a pinnace.

Warin and his guard were lowered over the side with Veronica in a 20 foot pinnace, which was a type of old fashioned dinghy used to tender between the ship and shore when no port was available. After the pinnace rested on the surface Veronica saw that the water was black from all the ash and it stunk like rotting fish. Four men pulled at the oars and they slowly made their way to the shore, cutting a visible path through the thick water with a surreal red sky above them. As they reached the shallows, the origin of the stench became evident as mounds of dead sea life were piled on the beach as black waves continually churned them. Veronica pulled the neck of her blouse up over her nose in an attempt to filter the rancid smell of death from entering her lungs.

Warin and the guard jumped over the side into three feet of water and pulled the pinnace onto the beach which was also black, covered with a heavy mud from all the ash. From the waist down, the men's uniforms were soiled with oily black water that adhered to everything it touched. Veronica stood up in the pinnace once it came to a rest on the beach and before she could step over the side, Warin picked her up and carried her in his arms to the relative dryness of the grounds of the old mosque. As he set her gently on the neglected lawn she thanked him kindly.

The man first seen on the beach had run back to help Hengist progress faster to greet his Captain and his distinguished guest Lady Veronica. As they approached, Warin left Veronica's side in an attempt to help and noticed that Hengist's leg had been crushed and had only received marginal medical treatment, but from the look of the dirty bandages it was still bleeding heavily. Warin extended his arm to Hengist which was proudly refused and Warin respectfully took a step back and saluted, acknowledging his Lord's mortal defiance.

The guards all stood at strict attention, forming two columns as Hengist approached Veronica and after shrugging off his assistant, he struggled under his own power to kneel before her as he took her hand and kissed it. Amidst the death and destruction all around them, shrouded under a red sky, Hengist tried to regain a measure of his former rank and power but to Veronica it was a pathetic scene. She looked down at Hengist, a man she had never met and wondered who he was, why every man in the company revered him so intensely and mostly why she was there. This was in addition to the dozens of other questions swirling in her mind about the total destruction and death that was all around her.

Struggling to get back on his feet, Hengist vehemently refused any help from his attendants as he winced in pain, forcing his body to use his crushed leg. His lips were tightly drawn over clinched teeth and Veronica watched as an involuntary tear betrayed his resolve and rolled down his cheek leaving a white line as it washed away both ash and blood. Hengist was a man in his late thirties, perhaps early forties with shoulder-length blond hair. He was just over six feet with an impressive build probably weighing over 200 pounds and his countenance was like lightning. After getting to his feet, he looked into Veronica's eyes and forced a painful smile, "Welcome my Lady. I apologize for the lack of comforts and lack of bloody civilization in general. We too are victims of the Minimum as is the whole earth. We thought we had more time but the earth is no man's slave and though we abuse her cruelly, she chooses her own time and place for revenge. I must insist that you remain on board the _Alexander_ —the ship you have called home these past 10 days. You will have every need provided for including a warm shower and ample to eat. I'm afraid life on shore for the time being is very nasty, brutish and short—hardly the place for someone of your birth."

"Thomas Hobbes's, _Leviathan_ ," said Veronica referring to Hengist's use of the phrase "nasty, brutish and short."

Hengist smiled approvingly, "You certainly are as bright as they say, but the rumors about your beauty are completely false—you surpass them." He turned and limped over to a small table and chairs under a grove of trees, the only thing green in sight which made them look terribly out of place like an oasis in a black desert. The table and chairs had a layer of ash over them as did the trees which looked like black Christmas tree flocking. Warin escorted Veronica over to where Hengist was slowly sitting down at the table which looked like it had been left outdoors for 20 years. The white paint was cracked and peeling away from the wicker and as Veronica sat it groaned and creaked under her light-weight frame.

A man came offering Veronica a simple glass of water and looking around, she noticed that she was the only person offered any refreshment at all. She correctly determined that the reason was because there was not much clean water to be found and she politely refused it.

After they were all seated Hengist resumed speaking, "I assume you are wondering what the hell happened? Having been at sea these past 10 days you have been fortunate to miss out on all the Minimum festivities. I think we can safely assume the Minimum has at long last arrived in all its gore and glory. We estimated the changes to the planet would be severe but we hardly expected this."

Warin was confused, still not understanding how the Minimum could have caused such devastation, "Expected what my lord?"

Hengist laughed pointing around, "All this you idiot. You are of course aware of our clever ozone containers and the damage they can have on buildings made of cement containing fly ash? Well, the Minimum has in essence, released an ozone container over the entire planet. It started here about a week ago and at the time of the first ignition; I was at the government complex, quite a distance from my ship. The explosions started near the highlands and the sheer scale of the incident alerted me that it was no terrorist attack but something much larger and more sinister than anyone would believe. I was able to make it out of the complex but on route to the harbor I was detained by a rather large piece of steel after it fell from the sky, crushing the car."

With both hands he lifted his leg from under the table and raised it onto an empty chair next to Veronica in an attempt to stop the endless throbbing. Upon seeing the dirty bandages and his blood-soaked clothing she gasped, "You need a doctor if you want to keep that leg. We have one on board and I must say, he is very good with dressing wounds."

Veronica was about to explain how the doctor had miraculously reduced the swelling in her cheek her first night on board the _Alexander_ but she saw a forbidding look across the table from Warin and she quickly derailed her intended comments and concluded with, "Which I was able to observe while on board."

Warin smiled gratefully as he concurred with Veronica insisting that Hengist come on board for both medical treatment and a full meal, "When did you last eat my Lord? And what has become of the _Ronnie_?"

The _Ronnie_ was the flagship of the Toprak fleet and the loss of her was painful and visibly evident on Hengist's face as he recounted her demise, "She is lying in pieces at the bottom of the Port of Tangiers—or so I am told. The slip exploded on two sides sending concrete shrapnel into her hull and she sank strait away. Upon receiving the news, I determined that our only salvation would be to find an older building and we happened to be near this old mosque. We have been here ever since. On a few occasions I have sent scouting parties into the city to look for provisions and on the third day we were lucky enough to find an old fallout shelter two miles from here with stale provisions, which has sustained us but we are nearly at the end of our rations. I have with me 47 men and we have been on quarter rations, which consisted of one survival biscuit and six ounces of water per day."

As Hengist was speaking, Veronica remembered the miles of coastline they sailed past without seeing any signs of life and wondered, "How many survivors have you found?"

Hengist sighed, "Civilians, I have no idea but if the surrounding neighborhood is any indicator I would guess survival is under 10 percent, but that is only a guess it could very well be lower."

Veronica gasped and placed her hand over her mouth as Hengist continued, "Yesterday the scouting party found one of our soldiers from the 5th Regiment. He was sent to look for my ship and me of course and was nearly dead when we found him. The good news in all this was the seven regiments we have in Morocco are all accounted for since they were stationed in the southeastern desert away from any manmade structures. They have ample supplies with them and this morning I sent a detachment to bring a full regiment here with supplies. As for Horsa, I am hoping for equally good news."

Warin just then remembered that Horsa had been detached to Montana three weeks ago to support the rebel forces and Lord Guiscard, "And what was the last news you received from Montana?"

Hengist leaned back in his chair as it protested with a sharp creek, "Well, the last news was that they had just defeated the U.S. Army at the Clancy ranch and were preparing for an assault on the area airbases, but we lost our harbinger on the second night of the explosions and..."

"As did we!" interrupted Warin and then bowed his head acknowledging his lack of respect, "begging your pardon my lord."

Hengist's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized what Warin had just said, "You lost your harbinger? By chance did he respond on a pentacode?"

"He did my lord and it was necessary to dispose of him after he killed two of the crew," responded Warin.

Hengist leaned back further in his chair and placed his hand to his chin, pulling on his ten-day beard, "Curious. During the first round of explosions, my harbinger reacted violently and I too found it necessary to permanently restrain him. Since my harbinger is peerless, it must have sent a distressed pentacode to all other subordinate harbingers—like yours, what a waste. We have been without communication for 10 days now however we have learned that a regiment in the desert has a harbinger in working order, they are bringing him back here. Hopefully then we can get an update from Horsa."

Hearing about Horsa in the U.S. and supporting the rebels made Veronica furious at first but then she remembered the events of the Vice President usurping the Presidency and controlling the military. During the Rain Locker communication, there wasn't any time for elaboration and because she had replayed in her mind countless times seeing Matt standing by a grave she hesitantly enquired for details, "Horsa was sent to help Gus—why does Gus need help?"

Hengist leaned forward and reverently turned to Veronica, "Forgive me my Lady, we have been conversing here about a great many things assuming you know our business in the world and we forget ourselves when speaking about your dear friend Lord Guiscard. It appears you do not know that he has joined forces with us to remove the man who calls himself the President of the United States, a most evil man of great means and reach. We have been watching him by means of a harbinger for several years and he is filled with foul intent I assure you. I realize you and your friends have many apprehensions when it comes to Toprak Esir and I suppose it is time you learned who we are, but unfortunately there is much I must attend to before what little sun we have sets this evening. Let's us resume our discussion this evening over dinner on the _Alexander_."

With that, Hengist concluded his business and ordered the solders on the beach to take Veronica back to the ship and to return the pinnace at 1900 hours to pick-up himself and Captain Warin. Veronica was once again carried back to the pinnace and set inside as the soldiers pushed off the beach and began rowing toward the ship. Twenty yards out the pinnace struck something in the water and it rolled and scratched all along the underside of the boat until it became visible in the wake—a charred body. Veronica turned away when she saw what had just passed under her feet but as she turned to her left, there were more blacken bodies drifting in the current, dozens. Veronica bowed her head and closed her eyes trying to purge the visual memory. She again pulled her blouse over her nose to filter out the offensive smell.

Hengist watched Veronica from the beach until she was out of earshot and then turned to Warin, "She seems to be in surprising good spirits considering how she has come to us. How did she do on the voyage?"

Warin sat back down and placed his hat on the table, "Obviously upset at first but after she was on board several hours she seemed to resign herself to her fate, at least for the time being. She kept to herself for the majority of the voyage and preferred to take her meals privately in her cabin, but when approached she was cordial enough. We actually had a very satisfying discussion one evening on deck about death, dying and reviving. I think she is the only person I have ever met who truly has no fear of death."

Hengist clasped his hands together, fingertip to fingertip and held his hands up to his lips as he thought, "That is unfortunate. Death is the most powerful motivator; we will have to resort to the second most powerful if we are to be successful."

"And what is the second most powerful my lord?" asked Warin.

Hengist turned again to watch Veronica now almost at the ship and after a long pause said, "Love."

"The Company is a quarter mile out my lord," came a voice, breaking Hengist's visual concentration on Veronica and within 20 minutes the first of the regiment from the southern desert began to arrive at the old mosque, among them was the regiment doctor who laid Hengist on a large table and reset his leg with a quick jerk. Hengist only responded with a muffled choke and then laid his head back on the table and waited for the pain to subside. After several minutes he resumed the affairs of the Toprak army addressing Warin in a strenuous voice, "Once the mess is set up order my men to eat first, allowing them as many portions they can stomach, they have been nearly fasting for eight days." He winced in pain as he pulled himself to a sitting position on the table and continued, "Fetch me the harbinger."

Hengist eased into a chair at the table and slid back looking up at the tall ceiling in the once great hall of the old mosque. Sections of the roof had long been missing which allowed the surreal red light of the smoke filled sky to filter into the hall as several pigeons flew in and out, the wind in their wings echoing off the bare walls. Numerous plants were growing up through sections of the floor where the tiles were broken and missing and Hengist closed his eyes as he felt a tingling in his head signaling the onset of unconsciousness due to the pain in his leg. The noises in the room faded in and out as he struggled to remain alert but after a time the pain subsided and he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

With his eyes closed he assessed the current state of Toprak Esir, where all his troops were scattered throughout the world and he prioritized the events of the next seven days.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of delicate footsteps behind him and before the person could speak, he sensed the presence of Lady Veronica and without opening his eyes, he addressed her, "Good afternoon my Lady, what brings you back on shore?"

Veronica hesitated, searching for the right words and then responded, "My lord," she paused again and then placed her hands on his shoulders, caressing them slowly and Hengist could almost imagine the motions were endearing, "The last year of my life I had convinced myself that your motives were purely evil, but since I have been your guest on your ship and seeing first hand your massive global organization in preparation of the onset of the Minimum, I could easily be persuaded that Toprak will be the thing that saves world, not destroys it."

She then pulled back his hair and combed it with her fingers, gently removing small debris, snarls and ash and then leaned over and kissed his neck. He took another deep breath as he felt a tapping on his shoulder, "My lord, the harbinger has arrived," said Warin waking him from a deep sleep.

He shook his head, clearing his daydream and reacquainting himself with the moment as the pain in his leg resumed, "Thank you Captain, how long have I been sleeping?"

Warin motioned for the harbinger to sit but then placed his hand on his shoulder halting his movement, "Just these past 30 minutes, and we have only just arrived. We can come back later if you wish my lord."

Hengist was now fully conscious and sat up in his chair, but to be sure he wasn't dreaming, he looked around the room for Veronica. Not seeing her he continued, "No, it is imperative that I speak with General Horsa in America and I need you to be present. This herald will be a council of war."

Warin nodded and took a seat next to Hengist and then turned to the harbinger and said abusively, "Baslatmak!"

The harbinger leaned his head back as his eyes rolled and his mouth opened uttering the initial sounds of a herald. Fifty-three hundred miles away, Horsa's harbinger went stiff as the herald initiated and a messenger ran to the tent of the General to announce the activation, "A herald is being initiated Sir," said the messenger with his head bowed.

Horsa was in the middle of a dinner with lots of wine and the message caught him in the middle of a loud guttural laugh. The tent became quiet after the messenger announced the herald and Horsa immediately excused himself from the table and insisted that Gus and his friends continue and that he would return momentarily.

Entering the tent of the harbinger, Horsa sat down with a grunt due to a very full belly and then sighed, "My distinguished brother, at long last. Where the hell have you been the last week?"

"In hell," came Hengist's voice from the mouth of the harbinger, "The Minimum has dealt us an ugly hand in this area of the world and I can tell by the wine in your voice you do not know of what I speak—at least not yet."

Hengist described to Horsa the wasted state of the eastern world and updated him on the state of the army and then concluded as an afterthought, "Oh and I hurt my leg but will recover presently. Now that you are up to speed we have to assume that the same will happen in the West. What is your current location?"

Horsa was sobering up quickly after hearing the devastating news from the East, "We are within 12 miles of Glacier International, and had plans to take it tomorrow. I have seven divisions in the vicinity, each with individual orders to take control of the major airfields. I have troops as far south as Reno, which is at longitude thirty-nine and a half, but if what you are telling is going to be a global event, perhaps we should remain in the mountains and wait it out?"

Hengist agreed that positioning in any city regardless of the size was extremely unwise and that Horsa should call a council of war with his captains and reevaluate his strategy in light of impending devastation—total devastation, "Your work will be completed for you by the Minimum, all you need do is provide order and supplies to the survivors and you will be made king. Since the Minimum seems to only destroy structures newer than 1950, all of our resources at the university in Belarus should be preserved. After we are finished I will herald Caleb at my office and have him dispatch supplies to both of us, that is if any of the fleet there has survived. After the Minimum is finished with you in the West, it won't matter which port I send the ships to since they will all be destroyed. You will have to tether the supplies to shore."

With their business concluded, Hengist paused before terminating the communication and added, "And Horsa—bind all your harbingers, they all go into pentacode during the event, which is why I have not been in communication with you."

The harbinger in the tent resumed normal posture and Horsa ordered him to be bound as two soldiers dragged him out of the room. He then walked to his tent and called a council of war with his captains.

The sun was setting in Tangiers and Warin and Hengist made their way to the black beach and boarded the pinnace. As they were rowed toward the _Alexander_ , Warin turned to Hengist, "How do you plan to present Toprak to Lady Veronica so that she will be endeared?"

Remembering his daydream about Veronica, Hengist responded, "I have an idea, but we need to clean ourselves up and I need to pretend that I care."

Veronica was escorted into the Captain's cabin for dinner dressed in an elegant, black backless dress, one of a dozen dresses Hengist provided for her in her cabin. An elaborate table had been prepared with all of the elegance and finery she enjoyed at home and then she stopped in her thoughts and corrected herself thinking, the elegance of Kensington Palace. She surprised herself that she thought of Kensington as home and smiled as her designated chair was pulled out for her and she sat down.

Hengist and Warin were standing at the head of the table both dressed in navy blue uniforms with gold ornaments, looking very official and dignified. After Veronica was seated, Hengist and his officers all took their seats and seeing the smile come across Veronica's face Hengist smiled back at her, "What pleasing thoughts occupy your mind my Lady? I could sorely use a pleasing thought at this hour."

Veronica shook her head, "Oh, nothing really my lord. I was just remembering meals at Kensington Palace. You spread a very elegant table, all the more elegant after being on shore today."

Hengist's smile widened when he heard Veronica address him as lord and he again remembered his daydream, "We are not without our comforts and you look especially lovely yourself my Lady."

After formal introductions were made and the first course of the meal was brought, individual conversations began to break out around the table. Hengist was seated at the head of the table and Veronica prominently at his right while Warin was on his left. Veronica knew old world naval tradition held that the person of honor at any naval banquet was always on the Captain's right and even though Hengist was not the captain of the _Alexander_ , he was the most senior in the world of Toprak and his presence aboard was powerfully felt by all.

All five courses were finely prepared and served with every measure of manor and grace of Buckingham Palace. The conversation was light and enjoyable considering everyone at the table was mostly a stranger to Veronica with the exception of Warin and though she had only known him for a little over a week, he was the only person she considered anything resembling a friend. However, all throughout the meal she could feel Hengist's eyes upon her and as the night wore on the burden of his glance became increasingly heavy to bear.

Thankfully, Toprak continued with naval tradition and served port after the meal and even though alcohol and Veronica were never a good mix, she eagerly took a small sip and relaxed with a calm sigh as Hengist finally spoke to her directly, "My Lady, I can't tell you how it pleases me just being in your presence." All around the table came shouts of "Here, here!" as glasses were raised and cheers made, the port doing its work.

Hengist sat his glass down after a long, deep drink and looked at Veronica intently, the alcohol not seeming to affect him at all, "Our world is changing beyond our most wild and horrific imaginations and only a select and very few even know what is happening. To most in the world this week, God has forsaken the earth and hellfire has belched forth from its bowels and devoured it. Through my communications today, we have learned that the entire planet looks the very same as Tangiers with the exception of the Americas, which we have reason to believe will follow suit very soon."

Hengist reached out his hand and placed it on top of Veronicas on the table and reassured her, "My General is in Montana with Lord Guiscard and his friends and they are all safe at last report. We have warned them about the impending minimum effects and advised them to remain as far away from any manmade structures as possible. They are near the Glacier Airport tonight and have agreed to wait out the next few days. You need not worry about them. They are currently being protected by the best trained army on the planet, even before it was all destroyed."

Veronica narrowed her eyes and shook her head in disgust, "All the world is destroyed?"

Hengist was still holding her hand and he squeezed it tighter reassuringly, "Nearly all my Lady. We estimate that casualties are around 90 percent in most of the modern cities, perhaps more. However, rural areas have certainly fared better due to the lack of modern manmade structures. The world has been turned on its head. The first have become the last and the last the first, just as the Bible predicted. The least developed countries have the least amount of damage and the highest survival rates making them the most powerful countries in the world now. Meanwhile, the first and second worlds have been nearly completely destroyed, or will be destroyed in the next few days."

The feeling in the cabin became sober as Hengist continued explaining the responsibility Toprak now had in the world, "I suppose this will sound to you like a confession but you were right about us you know. We were behind many different military movements and our goal was to capture the world—something we would have accomplished, by the way." He released Veronica's hand and took a very deep sigh, placing both hands together in front of him and interlocking his fingers, "Our mission has always been to save mankind from itself even if we had to accomplish it by force. However—it now appears that we will be the only organized body of both means and force in a world of chaos. We have a sacred responsibility to now nurture mankind and a massive opportunity to rebuild the very fabric of society after a manor and principles that will never again lead it to self-destruction."

Veronica rolled her eyes slightly and shook her head, which made her dizzy even from the little port she had drunk, "Utopian society. It has been the goal of every government in history and every one an ultimate failure. No matter how pure the motives are in the beginning, power always corrupts in the end. The United States included."

Hengist smiled, once again impressed with Veronica's intellect and practical wisdom, "Do you know why I invited you to join us?"

Veronica laughed, "You call being knocked unconscious an invitation? I would hate to see your version of abduction."

Several of the officers laughed and then quickly regained composure after Warin gave them a sharp look. Warin then looked quickly at Veronica and then at Hengist to see his response after learning that Veronica was harmed during the invitation. This was the first Hengist had heard of the incidents in London and he slowly turned to Warin with a look that made him bow his head in shame and he reverently said, "My lord."

Veronica was almost always very deliberate in her speech and choice of words and tonight was no exception. She saw an opportunity to betray one ally for another who was more powerful and it worked—powerfully. It was obvious to Veronica that Hengist was laying it on pretty thick and for whatever reason, he needed her on his side. By betraying Warin for his superiority, Warin would have no choice but to respect her and Hengist's wishes and if she could convince Hengist that she was a willing participant, it could be very valuable to the King, especially now that Moran had been exposed. It would be a very dangerous game but avoiding danger in the world now was an impossibility.

Hengist turned to Veronica and apologized for his Captain's behavior and assured her that he would be reprimanded before the day expired and then continued, "I _invited_ you here because like me, you have powerful ancestry—powerful enough I believe to change the world but since very few things can be accomplished alone, it is time we came back together. History has proven that we can accomplish great things together."

Veronica was only slightly confused but pretended to know nothing of what Hengist was talking about, "Great things—me and you?"

Hengist smiled, "Not just us but all the Anglo-Saxon descendants we have been able to isolate. Which also includes your friend Gus, my brother Horsa and," Hengist paused and instead of continuing just concluded, "and others. Nearly all of my officers have Saxon heritage in some measure. We have been very careful these past 10 years to identify the bloodline while building our organization. Frankly, we have known about you for quite some time—although we were unaware of your pure Saxon heritage until rather recently."

Veronica's eyes widened and then narrowed remembering her very brief introduction to Toprak Esir in college, and how she was abused physically when she wanted withdraw, "I would assume you have been tracking me since college?"

Hengist nodded, "Yes. We have always been interested in the brightest and boldest, but it was when you were hired by Lord Guiscard that you were moved onto our A list. Until your appointment in the Senate we only had a casual interest—I sadly admit."

Veronica's growing disgust was becoming more visible as was her frustration with Hengist's casual references of her abuse at the hands of Toprak employees, "Casual interest—really?! By the way I was treated when I chose to leave the campus association one would think I was an integral part of the global organization!"

For the first time since their meeting, Veronica saw Hengist confused. His natural demeanor was always complete confidence and control, even when he struggled to stand on his crushed leg earlier in the day. Upon hearing of Veronica's abuse, he sat up in his chair and moved his glass of port to one side and looked at Veronica intently. She could feel a wall of anger building behind his steel eyes as he asked her to explain.

The room got very quiet and tense, waiting for Hengist to lose his temper. They obviously knew something about him that Veronica did not and Warin especially looked anxious and he too was looking at Veronica intently. Veronica started slowly, feeling all eyes upon her and as always, she chose her words carefully, "I was introduced to your organization in college by a boyfriend but after a while, I decided I no longer wanted to participate. I was strongly reprimanded and was frankly told I could not leave the organization. I told the gentleman frankly go to hell and that was when he grabbed me by the arm and knocked me to the ground.

Veronica could see Hengist's teeth tightly clinched behind his thin lips and red face as he slowly turned to face Warin. This was the second time in an hour that Hengist had learned of Warin abusing Veronica. She was not only an integral part of his plan but he was also consumed with her.

As Hengist's eyes landed upon Warin he was visibly uncomfortable and struggled to maintain composure, "My lord—It was a most unfortunate situation and I sorely regret how I handled it and beg of your forgiveness."

"That was you?!" said Veronica in surprise, "For hell's sake, I was just a student—I was nineteen!"

Hengist stood as all eyes watched him slowly slide in his chair and walk behind Warin, placing his hands on his shoulders, "Captain, I believe you owe the Lady an apology."

Warin looked up at Hengist and then at Veronica and swallowed hard, "My lady..." was all he uttered before Hengist drew his knife, cut his throat and then thrust his head down on the table so that his blood would not shower the other guests, "My Lady, this miserable dog is very sorry and I assure you he will not offend you further."

# Chapter 20

Veronica lay back on her bed looking at the ceiling in her new cabin aboard the _Alexander_. Hengist insisted that she be given the former captain's cabin which was the largest and most elegant of all the compartments on board. The cabin was in the aft of the ship and in traditional styling for captain's quarters, it had full stern wrap around windows, providing beautiful views—beautiful that is if you were in a beautiful port. The world outside the stern windows this night was completely dark and menacing, not just because it was approaching midnight but also because the memory of the rubble and ash now called Tangiers was haunting and also the knowledge that the ship was floating on a thick oil bed of death.

Lying on her back she reflected upon the equally dark bloody dinner she had just come from and recalled how hard she fought back vomiting as she watched Warin's neck gape open at the slice of Hengist's blade and a shower of blood cover the table. She closed her eyes trying to wipe the dark memories from her mind and tried to think of something pleasant. She remembered the peaceful days of working in Gus's office and how exciting it was to be the admin of a U.S. Senator—the most senior U.S. Senator. Her thoughts wondered across the ocean to Kensington Palace, the King, the Duke and dear Corinna. She smiled as she remembered her first night at Kensington when she thought she was a prisoner and how rudely she had treated the Duke of Devonshire. As she mentally floated through her few months in the palace she inevitably remembered the night the Fenrir found her and she groaned out loud in anger as she considered all the painfully dark memories she had surrounding Toprak Esir.

She opened her eyes and much to her surprise, she saw Kensington Palace perfectly illustrated and in amazing detail painted on the ceiling of her cabin. She scanned the entire ceiling and the whole of it was an elegant mural and as she studied it in its entirety, she noticed it depicted a story—much like many murals did, except this mural wasn't some obscure fable, this was her life from the moment she first encountered Toprak Esir!

It seemed to begin at her dormitory at Berkley and she noticed the place where she broke with Toprak—or so she thought, but then she noticed the mural even depicted the Harvest Festival in Sonoma County where she first met Matthew. However, as she analyzed it further, it also depicted her childhood and the death of her parents when she was seven years old, something she thought only a handful of people living knew about. Veronica quickly went from curious to angry and then to deeply wounded.

"Who are these people?!" she said out loud as a tear rolled out of the corner of her eye and came to rest in her ear making her shiver. She sat up on the bed wiping her tears but then finding it difficult to study the mural in an upright position; she lay back down and cried more as she saw the silver Cadillac Escalade her parents were killed in back in 2022 when they were gunned down on Peninsula Drive in El Cerrito, California while she was sitting in the backseat. For a while she couldn't see the mural through the blur of her tears and her chest shook as she held back a flood of sobs that desperately fought to get out of her trembling mouth.

She rolled over and wiped her tears on the silk bed cover, leaving large water stains that grew larger and larger as it drank her tears making dark circles. Looking back up at the mural she saw a tall ship that preceded the depiction of the murder of her parents with the name _Ronnie_ on it. She narrowed her eyes looking for more clues as to what it meant. She remembered that Hengist's flagship name was the _Ronnie_ but as she studied the mural further she determined the name was referring to the title of the story since it became obvious that the name and the surrounding images signaled the beginning of the mural. Near the tall ship was some kind of landmass that looked strangely familiar to her. She could not place it but then as she studied it further she began to recognize, "East Tilbury?" she said out loud.

Sheerness was an island at the mouth of the Thames in London that the very ship she was now on had passed during her first night as they left London. It was also recognizable to her from an accurate but crude illustration in the Winston Chronicle that she had studied so faithfully while at Kensington. It was then that the pieces began to fall together and why she was so vitally important to Hengist.

Since the Winston Chronicle was nearly committed to memory she quickly placed the pieces of history together. In the fifth century Hengist and Horsa invaded England with the true heir to the English throne—the Princess Ronni and how Hengist married her by force, thereby ensuring his legitimacy to the throne. Ronnie was the old world version of Veronica and circling the mural from beginning to end she saw it _was_ a circle; beginning at the invasion of England and the marriage of Ronnie and then ending with it.

Veronica's sadness quickly left her and was replaced with anger and iron resolve, "I'll be dammed if history will repeat itself in this century!" she said just as she heard a knock at her cabin door.

She then heard Lyle's voice through the door, "Lord Hengist my Lady." Lyle was Warin's steward but now he appeared to be attending Veronica.

Veronica rubbed her eyes trying to defuse the redness caused by her tears and she combed her fingers through her hair in an attempt to make herself appear anything but angry or upset. Before responding she saw the tear stains on the bed cover and she quickly sat down to cover them and said, "Come in my lord."

Hengist entered the grand cabin, bowed respectfully and then waited for Lyle to leave and close the door. After they were left alone, Hengist motioned to Veronica if it were alright if he sat. Veronica quickly apologized for not inviting him to take a chair near her bed and Hengist sat down as he noticeably tried to hide the blood stains on his naval jacket.

He sighed before he spoke and rubbed his sore leg for several seconds. He then looked at Veronica apologetically, "My dear Veronica. I am gravely sorry for the after dinner conversation and sad display of my lack of self-control. You will learn my anger is one of the few things in this world I do not control however; my lack of discipline has allowed me to control the world. I think that is an acceptable exchange don't you?"

Veronica was disgusted at both Hengist's conceit and lack of self-control but since she was beginning to excel at cunning self-control, she maintained her strong composure and nodded Hmmbly at his gross display of brutality.

Hengist looked up at the mural and then at Veronica hoping she would say something which would have made the purpose for his visit easier to initiate, but Veronica said nothing. He adjusted his posture with a slight grunt as he extended his crushed leg, allowing for improved blood flow and then reached over to the small desk and picked up the captain's log and handed it to Veronica, "It's time you had some answers my Lady and perhaps the best place to start is the very beginning—your name. Let me first apologize again for the necessary deception we have inflicted upon you and speaking of names, this ship is not the _Alexander_. The _Alexander_ is actually sitting at the bottom of the ocean in the port of Tangiers at this moment along with all hands, myself excepted of course. This ship was made for you, which you might have already noticed."

Veronica sat up a little more but still being careful to cover the tear stains under her and exclaimed in surprise, "Me?! Why—and why would I notice?"

Just then Veronica opened the log book and saw that the name of the ship was the _Ronni._ She looked up at Hengist with a pretended look of confusion.

"We have been planning this moment for a very, very long time and forgive me if I seem a little over zealous to explain things, but I have dreamed of this moment since I was," he paused noticeably changing his choice of words and then continued, "well—younger than I am now."

With a light of excitement in his eyes he continued at a rapid rate, "You have a grand destiny my Lady and I know that because it has all happened before. Since you are an astute student of history I don't need to explain that pattern of Hmmanity to you. As the earth circles the sun, circumstances and names change only slightly but the tides remain the same as they pound upon the shore throughout eternity. Try as the world does, we cannot escape them nor change them just as this Solar Minimum has once again forced man to look at himself through the sandglass of time and realize that a single grain that falls is meaningless until the last gain passes and the glass is once again turned and it resumes again—alas, and here we are."

As evil as Hengist was to Veronica, he was speaking the undeniable truth especially in light of the world being destroyed in the last 10 days and it did appear that civilization was for all intents and purposes, starting over.

Hengist repositioned himself every few minutes since there was no comfortable position for his leg as he continued his awkward confession, "There are probably less than 100 people in the world right now who know what has just happened, which means that less than 100 also know what opportunities await those who are prepared and aggressive. As I see it, it is only Toprak Esir and England who are in such a position. However, England has largely been destroyed I surmise due to the vast number of modern developments in that country. Toprak's headquarters as you may or may not know are located at the old University of Belarus, a very old school with few modern improvements. Our vast supplies and resources have all been preserved and since we have been studying the effects of a solar minimum for several decades we are prepared with all the weapons of antiquity. No one is as prepared as Toprak my Lady which means the entire world is a vineyard just waiting to be squeezed in the wine press, where we alone will toast the sweet taste of domination."

Hengist at last gave up on sitting and struggled to his feet. He limped around the room as he tried to pace, "I also was not forthwith in how long we have been watching over you."

Veronica once again was angered at Hengist's casual and even endearing references to her suffering and seemed to be even suggesting that the murder of her parents was remotely associated with watching over her. She involuntarily made a tight fist and hid it in the bed cover.

Making a return trip back to the chair limping, Hengist continued, "We have indeed been watching you for a very long time." He cut his next words short obviously not knowing the right words to use and he then moved on to another subject by concluding, "When you sleep tonight, look up at the sky from your bed and you will be enlightened greatly."

He then resumed, "I suppose you also should be brought up to speed on what has happened to the United States of America. At this moment civil unrest there can now officially be called a war between many different factions and splinters of the former Federal Government. It is unclear who has any advantage but it scarcely matters since it will all be laid waste in the next few days. Once that happens, what we will be left with is a scattered and scared people in a vast country of ash; underscoring again our position of strength."

Hengist paused as he was lost for a moment in his thoughts and then with a soft and shallow laugh he continued, "Before you think we have all the answers I must insist we do not. For example we didn't know that the full Minimum would lay waste the world in such a manner. To be completely honest, we did know there would be complete crop failure which is why we have enough food reserves to supply the entire company for two years. We also know that the King was also storing food since he was the only other world leader who knew of the possibility of a minimum event. However it is probably all destroyed now."

Veronica interrupted Hengist's monologue and interjected, "Underscoring again your position of strength."

Hengist smiled, " _Our_ position of strength my Lady."

Since Hengist was volunteering answers, Veronica was anxious to start filling in the missing pieces of her understanding and began with her list of questions, "I'm sure you were behind the European embassy bombings, why?"

Hengist's smile remained on his face since talking about himself was one of his favorite topics, "Well, that plan was put in place over 10 years ago and once you get something like that rolling it's impossible to stop. Not that it matters anyway really. Mother nature will kill and destroy the majority of everything on that side of the ocean shortly so in a way, we have been merciful to a few who will not have to run from place to place seeking refuge only to burn in an earthly hell in the end. The scene here in Tangiers was beyond belief as everything erupted and people fled as they burned."

The look on Veronica's face was one of horror. Hengist quickly apologized then continued, "Our initial plan was to only arouse panic and civil unrest making it easy for the Vice President to instill military rule over the country in preparation for our arrival where we would have then awarded a sub-kingdom of sorts upon the Vice President. Yes—we were supporting your Vice President and sadly he is still waiting for Horsa to come to his aid—and not that that matters since we were just going to kill him in the end anyway."

Hengist laughed out loud at his own twisted version of irony and not being able to stand any longer, resumed his seat and continued in a very tired and unemotional tone as if he were very board, "Then we were also behind the Muslim European invasion with the plan of letting them disrupt the European countries while we came in behind and cleaned up. We chose the European embassies so that the blame would be placed on the Muslims. I laughed for days when your Vice President declared neutrality, not having the walnuts to make any kind of stand on his own."

Veronica back tracked slightly still trying to connect the dots, "And by _cleaned up_ you mean destroying the Muslim armies once they exhausted themselves doing all your work?" she said in a disgusted tone.

"Exactly," Hengist chuckled, "You wouldn't believe how easy it was to get every single Middle Eastern nation in a united lather over the infidel Christians. It was like a single spark in a powder keg."

The hour was getting very late and Veronica was having trouble keeping her focus and was growing weary of having to sit in a single position on the bed. But there was one last question she had to know, "So tell me about the harbingers."

With all her questions, Hengist was starting to believe that Veronica was warming to Toprak and hopefully to himself. He eagerly responded prefacing his remarks that they would be hard to believe, "Toprak has never used modern communication unless we could be very sure it was meaningless data, like the pentacodes sent to a harbinger. Traditional communications such as letters and face to face dialogue are ignored these days and virtually impossible to trace. We have been able to go largely unnoticed in the world using it; all the while we were thought as being stupid."

He laughed and continued, "However, it was necessary for us to send urgent communications from time to time and during the Russian wars we came across a particular man who taught my brother all he knew about magic."

Veronica laughed but then considered all that Toprak was able to do in such a relatively short period of time, she coughed and tried to recover as best she could without offending Hengist.

Hengist nodded in agreement with a smile returning to his face, "I too laughed at the time but when I saw the outcome I reconsidered. I tried my hand at the magic but not everyone has a disposition for it, however, Horsa is a master and once you meet him you will quickly see why. Over the past 10 years as the Minimum has increased, my brother's skills have been magnified and was able to enchant weak minds and in doing so he was able to see and hear what they see and hear. At first it wasn't real-time and the harbingers would need to herald near a five-point star—inverted of course, such is the type of magic that this is. But now, a harbinger is able to herald in real time and we can be a fly on the wall everywhere we have a harbinger."

Hengist yawned, "I need to be getting back on shore but I wanted to officially apologize and enlighten your world before I retired. Remember what I said about looking up before you sleep tonight and we will talk in the morning about your important role in the world's history."

He got up and limped toward the door but before he exited he turned around, using the door lever as a crutch and said, "Perhaps I should tell you that since you are such a vital part of Toprak's mission, you could probably kill my own brother and I would not harm you. I tell you this because I do not want you to feel like you are a prisoner on the _Ronni_. The ship is yours my Lady; it has your name on it—after all. When I leave the ship you will be second in command under the new captain Jedrek—Warin's Chief Officer and I am bestowing upon you the title of The Lord's Emissary." Hengist smiled and added, "My emissary that is."

He then limped over to the bed and bent down and kissed Veronica's cheek as Veronica said nothing and watched him limp back across the cabin and out the door. Once the door was shut, she lay back on her bed and took a deep sigh, disgusted at both his arrogance and his confidence. Looking up there was the mural again like a haunting ghost and she shook her head and got up off the bed and determined that she needed a breath of air before retiring and she left her cabin and walked up on deck.

The night air was thick with Hmmidity but thankfully she could not smell the shore since the wind had shifted and was now blowing off the Mediterranean. Standing at the stern of the ship, she heard two voices rising up from below decks and as they grew louder and closer she could tell it was Hengist and Jedrek discussing the plans for tomorrow. Not wanting to be seen, mostly because she couldn't take another minute of Hengist, she tip-toed around to the opposite deck and hid behind the mizzen sail that was flapping loosely in the light breeze.

As Hengist was about to go over the side to the waiting pinnace he turned to Jedrek with final instructions, "So, just to recap captain. Select your minimal crew from those you can trust with your life and send the rest to shore tonight. Me and my men will all be back on ship by 1300 hours. Have her ready to sail for Belarus at that time—no delays."

Veronica heard Jedrek's boots knock together as he saluted Hengist and replied, "Yes my lord."

With that, Hengist went over the side to prepare his men for a voyage back home to Belarus, no doubt to rally his resources for the final military operation the world would know for quite some time since it was Toprak's plan to capture and subdue it.

Just as Veronica was about to walk round the deck to the companionway back to her cabin she heard Jedrek talking to someone else and she froze and listened.

"I'll be dammed if I'm going to send my crew overboard so his beloved guard can get out of this hell-hole while my men sit and rot on this god-forsaken spit of land!" Jedrek drew his sword and turned around as he heard Veronica stumble over the loose ropes at her feet. Already angry and frustrated he pointed his sword at the flapping mizzen and yelled, "So help me I will run you through you filthy dog—eaves-dropping on me?"

Jedrek was alone, talking to himself, and Veronica came out from behind the sail with her hands up as if Jedrek were holding a gun and out of habit from watching too many movies said, "Don't shoot, it's me."

The combination of seeing Veronica with her hands raised and telling him not to shoot at the point of a sword made Jedrek laugh, "Lady Veronica, my apologies. I was not aware you were on deck. I understand you are now the Lord's Emissary." He bowed very respectfully and said, "Welcome to Toprak Esir."

Veronica thanked him and walked over to the taffrail watching Hengist row back to shore with a small oil lamp as it bounced up and down on the tide. Jedrek joined her and let out an involuntary sigh as he contemplated what he had to tell his crew—that over half of them would be put on the disease-ridden shore until Toprak could come get them again. He knew it was a death sentence and he wondered how he would maintain control of the crew after the announcement was made.

Still looking at the pinnace, Veronica rested her elbows on the rail and placed her hands under her chin, "I don't envy the night ahead of you. I only hope I'm not part of the crew going ashore."

Jedrek turned to Veronica, "You heard no doubt?" He shook his head, "I don't know how I'm going to do it. The men will wildly protest," then he sighed again, "This is the stuff mutiny is made of. Even if I could arm the men who are staying, there would not be enough to hold off the mutiny. And considering all we have are hand weapons, it is complete suicide."

Veronica didn't respond and for several minutes, they just stood watching Hengist as the pinnace reached the shore. Soon more lights could be seen traversing the beach as the small army, Hengist's private guard prepared for boarding.

As Veronica thought through the events that were soon to be upon her, she concluded that this might be her only chance at escape. She was on a ship with enough supplies to get back to England and it was as good a situation as she could hope for if she could ever convince a Toprak officer to disobey orders, this was it.

"How about you just let them choose," said Veronica as she waited for Jedrek's response. What he said next would indicate whether she was saved or doomed. However, she remembered what Hengist said as he left that he could never harm her and so she relaxed and took courage.

Jedrek turned to look at Veronica after several long minutes and said nothing as he took her by the arm and escorted her back down to her cabin. Once inside, Jedrek shut the door behind him and then walked over to the very chair Hengist was sitting in earlier and motioned Veronica to sit on the bed. She timidly followed his orders unsure of what was happening. Despite his firmness he was respectful and kind and after she was seated he began to whisper.

"My Lady—you certainly do not know what you have done. There are potentially more harbingers on board and what you have said is certain death. I brought you down here only because of all the cabins on board, yours is the most secure from harbinger's ears, but we are still at great risk," he then leaned closer to Veronica and whispered, "My gut has had enough Toprak for a lifetime—what did you have in mind?"

Veronica hadn't really thought too much further ahead other than refusing to vacate the ship but as she quickly thought through the implications she whispered, "The world no longer has any weapons that can reach us from shore, all we need to do is weigh anchor and sail—right? Hengist will never catch us, especially if the winds pick up like they usually do at night here in the strait."

Jedrek thought through what Veronica was suggesting trying to think of every worst-case scenario he could. The plan was valid and could possibly work but Toprak's reach was extremely wide. Even if they escaped tonight it was certain Horsa would eventually find them, he always did. After a few minutes he turned to Veronica and whispered, "Where would we go?"

"England," said Veronica. I can promise you we will have the full protection of the King.

Jedrek nodded as he was still thinking through the scenario, "There are three major problems we need to address. First—raising the anchor is a very noisy business and Hengist will certainly hear and know exactly what is going on and there is a very good chance he could have a detachment here before we win it. Second—if the wind doesn't rise tonight, we will be dead in the water waiting for Hengist to behead us."

"And what's the third?" said Veronica unconcerned so far.

"Harbingers—with the Minimum in full bloom they continually herald. I do not know how many we have on board. Several men have come and gone in the past twenty-four hours and there is a very good chance we have more than one with us. It's the Toprak way," he said somewhat deflated. "There is a good chance Hengist is already alerted to our plan and is sending troops at this moment."

Veronica began to smile; knowing that her plan would work and she turned and placed her hand on Jedrek's knee, "It's going to work. I've read that in old tall ships when they needed to weigh anchor quickly they would just cut it."

Jedrek shook his head, "That was when the cables were made of hemp, our cables are made of steel. It would take hours to hack through them."

"Only a few hours? Perfect, we must get started right away," said Veronica taking command. "And I know how we can tell who the harbingers are since they all respond on a pentacode. All you need do is present them with one as the commanding officer and they should activate."

Jedrek sat for a few minutes thinking through what Veronica had said then nodded in agreement adding, "What about the wind?"

Veronica sighed, "For that, we'll just have to hope there is still a God in heaven that cares about this earth and hope he is on our side."

It was a very risky proposal but since the alternative for most of the crew on board was certain disease, hunger and death, it would be easy to get a majority. Jedrek and Veronica looked at each other as the weight of what they were about to do settled deeper and they waited for the activating courage to reach their hearts.

With a nod, they both got up and walked up on deck to first make sure they were not already exposed to Hengist by way of a hidden harbinger and they could see the activity on the beach was much the same and there wasn't a pinnace full of angry men rowing toward them.

Having an idea, Veronica motioned for Jedrek to wait a few minutes before making a move as she ran back down to her cabin and returned with a folded piece of paper and handed it to Jedrek. Unfolding it he read what she had written.

_12345_

_Lord Hengist has demanded that his personal guard have precedence over this crew and he has ordered that over half of you must go on shore to tempt your fate with disease, starvation and possibly death while he and his men sail for Belarus and at some future time return for you—if there be anything to rescue at that time._

_It is the design of the Captain and His Lord's Emissary to sail with the tide for England and safety. Any crew wishing to withdraw shall be allowed to disembark peacefully._

_If you wish to go ashore, take one step forward and pass this note to the next._

After reading the note Jedrek smiled and then nodded in agreement. Both he and Veronica then walked down to the gunroom and called all hands to assemble. Before circulating the note, Jedrek pulled aside his Chief Officer and First Lieutenant and showed them the note, motioning them to not respond verbally. Jedrek watched as they read the note first waiting to see if they responded to the pentacode at the top of the page and then if they were with he and Veronica or not. Both men nodded in agreement that they were in the affirmative with their Captain and Jedrek leaned over and whispered in each of their ears, "If any man speaks out, you are to run them through immediately do you understand me? We cannot have any disturbance."

As the rest of the crew assembled, Veronica was sitting elegantly on the only chair on the gun deck as she was introduced as His Lord's Emissary. The crew, all men, smiled at her warmly and saluted. Jedrek then turned to his Chief Officer waiting for his signal that all men were accounted for and he nodded in the affirmative.

"Men, it has been a pleasure sailing with you and I pray we may continue to do so for a long time yet. However, I have been given orders that will greatly displease over half of you. Which half I have not decided nor do I desire to choose. I will be passing a note presently with our orders and instructions on how to respond. If any man speaks out, they shall feel the point of my sword," said Jedrek as he drew his sword and handed it to the Chief Officer and then handed the note to the first man.

Veronica and Jedrek watched as the first man read the note and saw his face turn to disgust at what Hengist was proposing. He then passed the note, each man following the same expression and action choosing to remain on board and sail for England. After the first 100 men, the note was passed to a short crew member whose eyes immediately opened wide and he groaned when he saw the pentacode. The Chief Officer quickly walked over to the man but first looked at Jedrek for approval and then thrust his sword through his gut. The harbinger bent over and became silent then fell to the deck. The Officer picked up the note and handed it to the next in line where upon he also groaned out loud and the officer quickly slit his throat.

After all 307 men had read the note, there were only five men that stepped forward desiring to be put ashore. They had learned that they had a total of six harbingers on board, all were now lying dead.

Silence was the strict command and Jedrek ordered 20 men to begin cutting the anchor cables by hand, each taking turns as they got fatigued. The remainder of the crew was assigned the duties of making ready the ship but with the order to not spread the sails until the last minute. For those who desired to be put on shore, they were all tied and gagged so that they would not call out to the beach and spoil the escape with the assurance that they would be safely put in a pinnace as they sailed on the tide.

The work of cutting the three inch steel cables was very slow and tiresome as each man sawed with a diamond-tipped hacksaw until his strength left him and he was relieved by the next man. After three hours, the first cable was cut and the crew slowly let it sink into the sea. With the other cable nearly cut, Jedrek ordered all hands to their stations as the pinnace containing five men was put over the side with the painter line still attached as the _Ronni_ e sat waiting for the early morning breeze to begin.

Minutes turned into hours as all hands grew very anxious waiting for the breeze to pick up. Hour after hour and still no breeze—then just as it appeared that they were all about to be discovered by Hengist in the early morning light, the captain's pennant began to flap in the morning breeze coming off the land and steadily grew, strengthening by the minute. Jedrek gave the silent command to spread the canvas as every sail unfurled and the ship shook into motion and quickly reached eight knots.

The command was given to cut the painter line so that the men in the pinnace could go freely to shore and no sooner was it cut that the men still bound and gagged in the pinnace began to show signs of distress, trying to get the _Ronnie's_ attention. The Captain just stood and watched as Veronica wondered what they were doing and what they wanted. It quickly became obvious what the excitement was about as the pinnace began to sink.

"Aren't you going to throw them a line? They are sinking!" said Veronica in alarm.

"It wouldn't make much sense to throw them a line after I punched holes in their boat now would it?" replied Jedrek calmly.

Veronica was enraged but was still talking quietly so that her voice would not carry on the wind toward the beach, "You what?! We gave them our word of safe passage—they are going to die!"

"My Lady—the moment they took a step forward they became dangerous to us. We could not let them get to shore and alert Hengist. If this breeze fails, we are all dead men, it is only you who will go free," said Jedrek as Veronica turned and walked below decks in disgust.

As the sun began to rise over the rubble of Tangiers, the _Ronni_ e was reaching 20 knots on the stiff morning breeze as the beach disappeared in the distance. Through his binoculars, Jedrek could see early morning movement on the beach and it quickly turned into alarm as dozens of men could be seen waving their arms in distress when they realized they were being left to the fate they wished upon their fellow soldiers.

They had made their escape and Veronica's plan had come off perfectly just as she said it would. Jedrek called to his Chief Officer with the order to set a course for England and to send the Sailing Master down to his cabin and added, "This watch is yours. I am going to get some sleep and I will relieve you at 1400."

The Chief Officer saluted, "Yes sir," and Jedrek retired below deck.

Laying in his hammock the Captain was nearly asleep when he heard a knock at his door and in a somewhat disoriented state said, "Enter."

"Sir, the Master is not on board," said the Chief Officer.

"Are you sure?"

The Captain thought for a minute and then recalled that he had not seen Bart on deck recently and concluded that he must be on shore determining that Hengist probably withheld him so that Jedrek would not sail without him—and he certainly would not have sailed if he would have known his Sailing Master was still on the beach. Jedrek was only a marginal navigator and as a recently made captain he would have become more skilled sailing with Bart. Jedrek sat up in his hammock and rubbed his eyes, "Well—there's the first chink in the plan."

He got out of his hammock, walked back on deck and looked up at the thinning red sky as they slowly came out from under the shroud of heavy smoke as they left the Strait of Gibraltar and sailed out into the wide open Atlantic. The sky was still overcast due to the vast amounts of smoke in the upper atmosphere since most of the world had been burning over the last week, but the cleaner air was refreshing and he took in a deep cleansing breath. Looking down at the compass he knew for certain that they needed to start sailing northward but a general direction wasn't nearly enough to get them safely all the way to England especially since he knew they would have to stop at least once along the way for fresh water—if it could be found.

In the middle of the afternoon watch Veronica came on deck, surprised to see the dim sunlight, but compared to the depressed skies above Tangiers it seemed to lift everyone spirits, "Good afternoon Jedrek, how are things?"

Jedrek was standing near the helmsman staring at the compass obviously in a fair amount of distress, "Good morning my Lady, we are making the best of things. We do not have a sailing master so we are navigating as best we can."

Veronica stood for a minute observing Jedrek as he stared at his compass, "Are you attempting to navigate with that?"

Jedrek looked up feeling like he was about to be intimidated by a woman, "Unless you have any other ideas."

Veronica walked over and opened a small square box sitting in a water tight compartment next to the helm and took out a sextant, "This would be more beneficial I should think," as she held it up to her eye focusing on the horizon and making some adjustments.

Jedrek was both surprised and intimidated as he watched her, "So you know how to navigate with a sextant—what are you some kind of sailing hen?" he said slighting her.

Still peering through the sextant and ensuring the mirrors were parallel she ignored his slight and then wiped the lens with her blouse, "I've never done it before in practice but I know how they work. What time is it?"

Jedrek looked down at the instrument panel of the ship and responded, "Fourteen hundred—two o'clock."

Holding the sextant back up to her eye and taking a measurement she asked, "Do you know if we are in the Greenwich Time zone?"

This was something Jedrek absolutely knew and he responded confidently, "Yes we are, however on our way north we will skirt -1 hour continually."

There was a navigation table behind the helm and she walked over and lifted the lid of the table and shuffled through a stack of naval charts and pulled out the one which showed the Strait of Gibraltar and set it on the desk, "Do you know how long we have been out of the Strait?"

Jedrek walked over to observe what she was doing, "About five hours I should think," he looked over at the helmsman who nodded in agreement.

"So I think the only thing we need to know now is how fast on average have we been sailing these past five hours since leaving Tangiers," said Veronica somewhat confidently.

Jedrek turned to look at the helmsman who responded, "Seventeen knots sir—my Lady."

Jedrek watched Veronica make a mark on the chart then scribble several mathematical calculations and then made a measurement and drew a line, "We are here—approximately," she said looking around for land making sure she did not make a gross mistake.

How can you be sure?" asked Jedrek.

"Well, it's a guess but an educated one. I just used dead reckoning based upon our last known location in Tangiers and extrapolated it based upon speed and direction—a little algebra."

Jedrek was impressed, "And what was all the tinkering with the sextant?"

"Oh—that will allow us to determine our latitude as we move north once we come in view of Polaris but just now I was marking the degree of the solar noon, just a double check against our electronics—they appear to be accurate, so we can rely on them," said Veronica as she walked over to a deck chair and sat down, rolling up her jeans, enjoying the hazy sun and the refreshing spray on her face.

She closed her eyes just as a voice called down from the crosstrees, "On deck there—raft in the water at two points of the bow!"

Jedrek and Veronica rushed over to the side and through the binoculars could see a small raft containing at least 10 men all waving their arms signaling the _Ronni_ e to stop. Jedrek turned to Veronica and said, "They appear to have been shipped wrecked but we're not picking them up, I don't want a knife fight on my deck."

Veronica was in shock and then remembering what Jedrek did to the crew members who wanted to return to shore, she turned to him angrily, "We most certainly are. We are over 20 miles from the coast; they will most certainly perish if we abandon them. You are Toprak and your training is plain enough but I am not." Veronica yelled to the helmsman to come about and then gave the order for the sails to be furled so that the ship could slow down and pick up the shipwrecked men.

Jedrek rolled his eyes and shook his head and then ordered for his crew to stand by as he prepared a rope to be thrown to the raft. He was dressed in his Toprak uniform and was easily identified as the Captain of the ship and leaning over the rail he called out, "You there—where are you out from and where are you bound?"

Then men looked surprisingly well and said that their ship went down in the night and they had been drifting since about midnight, "We were six days out of Lisbon on our way to America."

"America, why America?" yelled Jedrek holding onto the line waiting for their response before he threw it to them.

The men on the raft were quiet as they all looked at each other before responding slowly, "We hear it is safe there—have you not heard what has happened?"

Jedrek threw them the line and as they pulled themselves toward the _Ronne_ he replied, "Yeah—we know about it."

The first man on the raft started to climb up the rope as Jedrek and several other crew members pulled him up on deck followed by the others. As the last man was pulled over the side, the man who appeared to be the leader of the group extended his hand to Jedrek and said, "God bless ya," as he stuck a knife into Jedrek's gut and the rest of the men did the same to the crew members who were standing nearby.

With nearly a full complement of 300 men on board, the skirmish was quickly put down and within a few minutes there were thirteen dead bodies on the deck and seven wounded. All ten that came on board were dead and three _Ronnie's_. It all happened so quickly that Veronica just stood in amazement as she watched the crew carelessly throw the ten shipwreck victims overboard while they respectfully covered their own dead with sails and got the wounded below to sickbay as if it were a normal routine. She then considered whom she was sailing with and realized this was probably nothing out of the ordinary for Toprak.

Within a few minutes, black body bags were brought up from the cargo hold and Jedrek and the two other men who Veronica did not know were zipped up and with everyone on deck standing at attention, they were slid down the gang plank and into the sea. Not being part of the Toprak army, Veronica wasn't sure what she should do so she stood with her hand over her heart as one by one the bodies made three splashes.

After the very brief ceremony—if it could even be called such—the First Lieutenant approached Veronica and saluted her with a closed fist to his chest, "The ship is now yours my Lady," as the crew was still following strict Toprak protocol.

Veronica was at a loss for words. Everything was happening so fast and while the crew was now looking to her for orders, she was still wondering how Jedrek knew the men in the raft were hostile, "Wait!" cried Veronica as the Lieutenant was walking away.

"How did the Captain know—about the men in the raft?" said Veronica as she bit her bottom lip in an attempt to maintain composure as she now realized that the death of 13 men was her fault.

The Lieutenant turned on his heel and thought for a moment, "I'm not sure he altogether did my Lady, however given the state of things, desperate times create desperate men and right now this ship looks like floating salvation. He was just being careful."

Veronica then felt all eyes upon her as they waited for her to assume command. The Toprak men were extremely disciplined and while she thought she could easily be over powered by the crew she felt they were more committed to their own well-being. In another age this crew would have turned pirate but there was nothing left in the world to plunder and the only real treasure was food. She looked around the deck and into the faces of her crew. Most of them were in their late twenties and early thirties from every nation in the world it appeared but most looked European.

Veronica took a deep breath feeling a noble resolve swell within her and assumed command of perhaps the most powerful ships in the world at that moment as well as a seasoned army of 300 souls with enough provisions to supply them for a year or more—certainly enough to circumnavigate at least once.

She stood up on the forecastle skylight and yelled, "Gentlemen. I have been taught a cruel lesson at the expense of our Captain. I assure you that won't ever happen again. My disposition has always first bent toward kindness but from this point forward, no quarter will be given to any person, ship or floating piece of dung that shows the slightest foul intent."

The deck erupted in grand approval and whistles as Veronica continued to speak, "I do not know what arrangement you had with Hengist and Toprak Esir but if you sail with me today, you do so as free men and we will fight in the preservation of freedom and for England."

The deck erupted again with loud cheers as Veronica yelled above the roar with Jedrek's sword pointed toward the sky, "We sail for England! Bend every sail and helmsman; place us on a north by northeast course."

"North by northeast—yes my Lady," replied the helmsman.

# Chapter 21

When Horsa didn't return to the dinner after being called away for a harbinger herald, Gus and his friends wandered out into the cool night air high in the Kootenai National Forest, which was northwest of Whitefish, Montana and just 12 miles away from the Glacier International Airport where the King was to send his private atmoscraft tomorrow. The Toprak camp seemed to be more active than normal, especially for one in the morning as the division officers appeared to be assembling in the large mess in the northern end of the encampment.

Gus looked up at the clear night sky and marveled at the grand display of stars and the unmistakable silver ribbon that stretched from horizon to horizon known as the Milky Way, "To think this transcendent display was always above our heads in DC but completely hidden from us by our illuminated cities and man's fear of the darkness. It's odd really when you think about it. Most of our so-called modern conveniences isolate us from the universe and inconvenience us in the end. I can't think of any manmade substitute that matches the awe-inspiring power of looking upward when the veil of society is removed. Every night all this inspiration and comfort is before us but we first have to embrace the darkness and our fears to find true peace."

Gus breathed deep feeling the cool air fill his lungs and refreshing him from the banquet comma he had been in for the past four hours. The rest of the group did the same much like after seeing someone else yawn it is nearly impossible to not yawn yourself. Walking back to their assigned quarters they observed dozens of men being bound and escorted to a type of holding facility away from the general encampment. Gus recognized one of them that he knew was a harbinger, "They are collecting the harbingers. Something is afoot, something very dire. Why they would collect the harbingers is lost on me but whatever it is, I believe it is big enough that it will present us with the opportunity we have been waiting for."

As they made their way back to their tents they noticed the entire camp was alive with activity but it was unclear what was happening or why, even their usual guard was missing from outside their tents. Horsa had assigned the group a small detachment to serve as their personal guard to protect them but everyone knew they were little more than prisoners to be used and discarded as the needs of Toprak changed.

Gus motioned everyone to gather close once he had walked all around the outside of the tent ensuring that there were no guards or harbingers near, "Whatever is going on in the camp regular assignments have been discarded including the guard posts both within and around the perimeter of the camp. We won't get a window better than this to part company with Toprak."

Everyone nodded and without a word they collected everything they would need for a 12 mile hike out of the mountains and down to the airport in complete darkness. Supplies and gear were plentiful and they packed up everything they could prudently carry. Luckily the moon was nearly full and once they were away from the lights of the camp they could see surprisingly well.

Little was spoken as they followed Hank through the rugged northern Montana wilderness mostly since they were expecting to be spotted by a Toprak sentry or scout but as the first mile was behind them Gus began to speak, "Whatever was happening in camp it was more important than the six of us. Toprak never lets go of an asset unless its value drops or becomes meaningless to them. The only scenario I can come up with is that the U.S. Government has surrendered making my position void—but that is ridiculous I know. I'm not suggesting they let us go but we were an afterthought that wasn't important enough to consider."

"I don't care about any of that, I'm just glad we escaped," said Shay as they came to a rather large river.

Hank walked upstream looking for an easier place to cross as Matt went downstream and after a few minutes they both returned suggesting their current location was as good as any. The river was only about 20 feet wide and probably only between two and three feet deep but in the cool autumn air, getting wet was the last thing any of them wanted to do. The current was the most concerning issue about crossing the river, in Matt's mind. He was convinced he and Hank would be alright but he worried about the others losing their footing and being swept downstream into the darkness, which would mean certain death either by drowning or from being slammed up against logs and rocks.

Hank found what appeared to be the shallowest place in the river and waded out half way as Matt followed. The current was much stiffer than they both initially thought and they struggled to get their footing but after a few minutes they were sufficiently stable to motion the others to cross just above them so that if any lost their footing Matt and Hank would be able to stop them from perishing into the darkness.

Ted and Jess entered the water first and were able to cross with mild difficulty but as Shay reached the midway point, he stepped on a very slippery rock covered with moss and he immediately went down into the water up to his neck and washed downstream. Hank reached out just before Shay passed him. He pulled him up to his feet and then escorted him to the other side.

Before Gus even stepped in the water, Matt knew he would not be able to stand in the strong current so he walked over and motioned for Gus to climb on his back. Hesitantly, Gus held onto Matt's shoulders and jumped on his back. He felt like a child and said nothing as Matt supported Gus by holding his legs and they made their way slowly across the river, Matt being very careful and choosing his steps. Surprisingly, Gus seemed very light to Matt and having an additional 180 pounds on his back was meaningless when it came to balance and physical stamina. As Gus held on to Matt's shoulders and felt his muscles tighten he was shocked at how hard they were, like rocks all the way down his back. Gus felt as if he were holding on to the back of a horse not a U.S. Senator.

They all reached the other side shivering from the cold water and as luck would have it, a cool breeze began to blow from the north chilling everyone. The effectual temperature felt like 9 degrees and Matt was now worried about hypothermia which was something he and Hank had not considered. Hypothermia was a quick killer and Matt knew the first signs were like that of being drunk—staggering, disorientation and general silliness. He looked around at the others looking for signs and saw Shay sitting on the river bank with his head down and not moving.

As Matt approached, Shay still did not move until Matt placed his hand on his shoulder and he lifted his head only slightly.

"You alright there man?" asked Matt rubbing his back reassuringly.

Shay didn't speak at first but then finally said in a defeated tone, "Are any of us going to be alright?"

Matt could tell Shay was suffering from more than just the bitter cold and he sat down next to him and sighed, "Well—I could sit here and give you a Sunday School hurrah but that's only going to warm you up for about 15 minutes. The truth is, we all just might freeze to death up here in the high Montana mountains in late fall or we might meet up with bears, wolves and hell, we might even be eaten by the Skanicum."

Matt's version of a pep talk wasn't helping and Shay shrugged off Matt's hand on his back angrily, "I get it, we just might as well be eaten by all of them and get it over with!"

Matt sighed again and after a short pause he continued, "I would never let that happen to one of my closest friends in the world."

Matt stood up and offered his hand to Shay but when he didn't reach up to take it, Matt continued to hold it out. After several minutes, Shay looked up at Matt as he said, "Come on brother, I'll pull you along."

Meeting up with the rest of the group who had assumed that Matt and Shay were ahead of them, Matt determined that at least for now everyone seemed to be in their right mind and the best thing they could do for their health and their rescue was to keep moving toward the airport.

Hank determined that it would take them at least six hours to walk 12 miles through a dark wilderness without a trail, possibly longer and the hours seemed all the more tedious and painful as they hiked in wet clothes. Hank then stopped and looked around as if he had heard something.

"What is it?" asked Matt.

"The wilderness makes no sound," said Hank still turning his head trying to hear anything in the darkness.

As the six men stood quietly, all that could be heard was the wind high above them in the pines whistling an unsettling melody. Not even a single cricket could be heard and now that the highly irregular silence was mentioned, it was all they could focus on. Never in all the years Matt and Hank had spent in the outdoors had they heard such a quiet night. Hank knew that all animals and insects were more attuned to the world than man was and when nature went quiet, it usually meant terrible things lay in store. Hank quickly decided that he would gain little by alerting the group to such information and suggested that they all just push forward.

Hank set the pace slightly faster than their previous march hoping that they would not only get out of the wilderness faster but hopefully burn more calories and warm everyone up. The group was again relatively quiet except for the awkward rhythmic squeak of five pairs of shoes expelling water as they hiked. After a few minutes, Jess began Hmmming quietly and it brought a surprisingly welcomed peace to the deathly quiet wilderness. The tune was familiar to Gus though at first he could not place it, but as he Hmmmed along he remembered and in his mind sang the words.

" _O Gladsome Light of the holy glory of the Immortal Father, heavenly, holy, blessed Jesus Christ. Now we have come to the setting of the sun and behold the light of evening. We praise God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. For it is right at all times to worship Thee with voices of praise, O Son of God and Giver of Life, therefore all the world glorifies Thee."_

He remembered hearing the hymn throughout most of his childhood and young adult life in the Oxford church where his father worked. It was perhaps the oldest Christian hymn known in the world and he could still hear the a cappella voices echoing off the stone walls in the grand church. It was known as the Lamplighter Hymn and was anciently sung in every Christian home at sundown, "O Gladsome Light," said Gus out loud, remembering the name of the hymn—very fitting and welcomed my dear Jess, thank you.

After he had Hmmmed the hymn through several times he began to sing the words out loud in Latin just as they entered a narrow walled canyon, his voice echoing off the tall granite cliffs around them. Feeling the fever of the hymn, Gus couldn't help but join in and as they completed the last byzantine phrase it echoed in a deep reverberation off the walls of the natural cathedral just as the first rays of sunlight began to light the eastern sky.

As they came out of the walled canyon, they could see the Flathead Valley below and the small town of Whitefish and then the long unnatural landing strip of the Glacier Airport to the east of the town.

Standing in the early morning light they could hear the sound of an atmoscraft descending which was the sound of a low-pitched Hmm and within a few minutes they could see a small private craft descending into the quiet valley.

"It's the King's atmoscraft," said Gus laughing with joy, "There is a God in heaven and our timing couldn't have been more perfect."

Shouts of happiness and relief erupted from the group as a blanket of hope descended upon them. The site of civilization and their royal transport preparing to land only a few short miles away energized everyone and they increased their pace to almost a full run as they made their way down the foothills and into the fields of wheat.

Their pace would have been faster if they had not been hiking all night but as they came out of the tall wheat and onto a long dirt road that lead toward town, they resumed their slower but brisk pace still being set by Hank who had successfully lead them through the wilderness exactly on point to their destination.

The King's atmoscraft had already circled twice and appeared to be circling a third time still high above the valley, "Why aren't they landing?" said Shay.

Ted had noticed several military vehicles at the airport when they were in the foothills and wondered who or what faction of the government had control of the airstrip, "Maybe they can't get clearance to land—there is a good chance whoever controls the airfield will not give them permission."

Shay then sighed, "It's always something."

Just then a very large explosion was heard and it shook the quiet valley as a large mushroom cloud could be seen rising from the opposite side of the valley in a narrow canyon above the town. After a few minutes it was followed by a rumble that sounded like thunder but instead of echoing into the distance it was growing louder. Hank stopped and turned to the group once he determined what the sound was, "Water!" he said as they all looked at him in confusion.

Hank knew the surrounding territory better than anyone, having grown up outdoors in Montana and he knew that Hungry Horse Reservoir was above the Flathead River valley. He couldn't be exactly sure the path the water would take but he was certain it would eventually flow downstream which was at the southern end of the valley. He quickly lead the group back up into the foothills where they could be more sure they were safe from the flood of water that was probably heading their way. As they ran they could hear numerous explosions behind them, shaking the valley and sending great plumes of smoke into the air.

Exhausted, they finally stopped and turned around once they reached a hill of sufficient height and saw a wall of water engulf the valley, dousing the fires that had already destroyed half of the town.

"Well, we know this wasn't the work of Toprak since they are still encamped 12 miles away. This must be the work of some other government faction," said Ted trying to understand what was happening.

As they all watched in horror, they heard the King's atmoscraft making another pass around the valley and as it went over their heads, they all waved their hands trying to signal to the pilot but even if they were spotted there was nowhere for the craft to land. Unlike old airplanes, atmoscraft only needed a few hundred yards to land but due to both the explosions and the flood there wasn't that much flat land to be found in the valley. Even worse, the surrounding mountains were forbidding and offered no flat ground for at least 100 miles. They watched the craft as it made one more pass and then abandoned any attempt at landing and disappeared over the mountains to the East.

For a long while, they all sat and watched the valley below first be destroyed by fire and then be washed away. It was hard to believe what they were watching as just a few hours ago they stood on this very spot and looked at the airport as their salvation. Hank knew that regardless of what had happened or why, they were running low on supplies since they only anticipated that they needed to reach the Flathead Valley. Hank stood up and strapped on his pack. Without a word he started walking south along the foothills and everyone else quickly followed.

"Where are we headed," asked Shay who was the first to fall in line behind Hank.

"South," was the only thing he said.

Shay turned and looked at Matt who was walking behind him hoping for more explanation.

"Kalispell is just south of here. Maybe we can find transportation there," said Matt, but the closer they got to Kalispell they could see that it too was laid waste and burning in a pile of rubble. The water from the dam had flooded some parts of the city but it was of little consequence since most of it was already destroyed.

"What the hell is happening!" yelled Ted upon seeing almost every manmade structure destroyed.

There was no sign of any army in the area or any indicator that man had anything to do with what they were witnessing. From their vantage point, they could see people fleeing into the mountains for safety including whatever farm animals had been fortunate enough to escape the confines of their pastures. Hank ran ahead and leaped upon a stray horse. He was able to calm its spirits sufficiently to be managed and he then rode to find other wild horses and one by one was able to secure enough for the entire group.

None of the horses were saddled and Hank gave the Senators a quick lesson on how to ride a horse without a saddle, stirrups or reins.

Still heading south, it was nightfall before they reached the outskirts of Missoula and they could tell by the illumination of the red sky that it too was burning in the darkness. There was no moonlight now that thick clouds of smoke filled the air making the night very dark and heavy. It was almost impossible to ride now since it was too dark to see even a few feet ahead and Hank discovered what appeared to be an abandoned building several hundred yards in front of them in the last visible light of the day.

In complete darkness he led the group up to the chain link fence that surrounded the building no doubt designed to keep transients and vandals out. Matt was in no mood to ride around looking for an entrance and he jumped off his horse and grabbing hold of the chain link he ripped the fence from the posts and threw it aside.

The building appeared to be some kind of old military base, long since out of use and as Matt returned to his horse, Gus was staring at the dark building, frozen.

"After you," said Matt, signaling for Gus to ride ahead.

It took Gus a few seconds to respond but he slowly turned to face Matt and said, "Did you see that?"

Matt was far too tired to be observant of details and he looked at the building quickly and then back at Gus, "Nope, I missed it."

"Forget it," replied Gus shaking his head.

They all rode into the compound and dismounted their horses and just as they were about to enter the building Matt turned to Gus, "Just curious, what did you think you saw?"

Gus looked at Matt and said quietly, "Shay—peering through that broken window," as he pointed above their heads to a small second story window.

Matt looked at Gus and then looked for Shay who was just entering the compound. They looked at each other again, casually shrugged and walked through the door.

Once inside, everyone quickly found a place to lie down and before long they were all sleeping on the hard floor, hoping tomorrow would show them that today had only been a dream.

The morning sun awoke Shay first as it streamed blood red rays of light through the broken square panes of glass in the old building. It was surreal unlike any morning he had ever experienced. The sun was silently trying to shine through the thick smoke that covered the entire sky from horizon to horizon and like the lack of light, it was also much colder. Since everyone was still sleeping, he decided he would have a look around and walking out of the room he entered into a long hall that seemed to span the entire building. As he walked along he noticed what looked like small single room apartments on either side of the corridor and at first he thought the old building was a penitentiary but he was only half right.

Toward the end of the corridor he found several loose papers on the floor and picking up one of the larger pieces, he blew off the think dust and read the caption, "Avenge Pearl Harbor, Our Bullets Will Do It." He picked up another poster and saw it was a very unflattering and menacing drawing of a Japanese man with the inscription, "If you lived as hard and fast as a Jap, we'd SMASH Tokyo a lot quicker."

Shay let the poster fall from his hand as he realized where he was. He was standing in the very building where his grandparents were taken to be processed shortly after the Pearl Harbor bombings in Hawai'i. He thought it terribly ironic how they had sought refuge in the very building where his grandparents were incarcerated almost 100 years ago. He wandered the building for a few minutes allowing his thoughts to do the same and as he passed a particular room he thought he heard a voice.

Stopping, he walked backwards and peered into the empty room where he thought the voice had originated. The room was empty and contained only a small square window with several broken panes and after confirming that the room was empty, he turned to walk out when he distinctly heard a voice call out, "Shai my son." Shay froze. There was only one person who ever called him Shai and that was his grandfather.

He whirled around and saw a man leaning back in a chair against the back wall of the small room which greatly startled him and he stumbled backwards into the partially opened door, shutting it. The man laughed as he saw that Shay was genuinely afraid. Shay could see through the man and the chair—there was no denying that he was in a room with a ghost.

He turned around to run out the door and reached down to grab the knob but there wasn't one. The knob was missing but the bolt in the door was securely shut in the jamb. Shay pounded on the door and was about to yell for help when the man stopped laughing and called out to him, "Shai, Shai, Shai my son. Has it been so long that you don't recognize me? I've come here to help you not scare the devil into you."

Shay slowly turned around to face the ghost finding it had stopped leaning back in his chair and was now standing before him, "I suppose I looked much older when last you saw me but when we die, we all resume a younger, more perfect age—and thank goodness. I would hate to be a sick old man forever," he said laughing.

As Shay studied the man he slowly began to recognize who he was and he responded slowly feeling like a child, "Grandfather?" He then considered where he was and how terrible it must be to have to be trapped here, "Are you stuck in this building forever."

The ghost laughed, "No, no. It doesn't work that way—never has. Reappearing back on earth is rather difficult and it's easier to visit the places that were familiar to us that's all. I have many memories of this old place and not all of them were dark, especially the day we were told we could return to Honolulu."

The ghost smiled as he remembered, "Ah—that was a very good day."

Shay stared at the ghost of his grandfather in disbelief, "I—I don't believe in ghosts, 'er I didn't use too. How is this happening and why here?"

The ghost sat down again and smiled at Shay, "It is so good to see you again. Congratulations on being a U.S. Senator! Wow, you sure showed your dad huh?"

Shay was speechless as the ghost continued after a deep sigh, "Like me my boy, you live in a darkening world, growing darker by the minute I'm afraid. Before this day is over the entire world will be a smoldering ash."

Shay came to life, "You know what is happening out there?"

The ghost nodded, "Your sun is passing through one of its cycles which is causing terrible things to happen everywhere—but it isn't all terrible, civilization is starting over and hopefully man will be smarter in what he builds this time."

"This time?" asked Shay.

"Yes, it has all happened before and it might even happen again. Your red sun is very unpredictable," said the ghost.

"So, how did you know I was here—did you follow us?" asked Shay still trying to understand how things worked in the world of the dead.

"I did. We dead people are very aware of what is happening on this earth; however we rarely get the chance to intervene or even interact with mortals on any level. However, with your sun doing what it is at the moment, it makes things easier for us since you mortals are more able to see us. Previous to today, we sometimes get the chance to be near you but you can't see us or hear us—only feel us. I was very excited when you came in here last night and I was hoping we'd get the chance to talk. Our time is limited as I can only be in this state for a short time, but I wanted you to know I have seen and felt your dismay. I have known such dismay when they dragged me here and I felt completely hopeless and utterly helpless, like you did today."

The ghost paused and looked into Shay's eyes, "It is never too hopeless to be helpful. Remember that. It is what won my freedom and will be the very thing that saves yours I believe. It is time for you to pound on that door; your friends are looking for you. I will be near you when I can my son," and the ghost motioned for Shay to begin pounding.

Shay slowly turned around and began knocking on the door and calling out "I'm in here!"

Within a few minutes, Matt was heard outside the door, "Shay?"

"Matt, I'm in here, the door knob is missing and I can't open it."

"Stand away from the door," said Matt as he kicked the door open breaking it nearly in half instead of opening it.

Shay thanked him as he began to step over the broken pieces of the door and then turning around he saw the room was empty once more.

"Did you forget something?" asked Matt which somewhat startled Shay.

"Huh? Oh—no. I found something actually."

Matt and Shay joined the others in the back room and the rest of the group was staggering to their feet from a miserable night's sleep as Shay enthusiastically announced, "You know what this place is?"

Everyone looked at him a little annoyed being so full of energy and in such good spirits on such a dark day in the world's history, "This was a detention camp used during World War II, my grandparents were actually stationed here for questioning before they were released and sent back to Hawai'i."

Gus was aware of Shay's ancestry. He walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder and smiling said, "It's good to find hope in a helpless situation."

Shay looked at Gus in surprise at nearly repeating exactly what his grandfather had just told him and Gus only smiled back at him and then turned to the others, "Shay here is right you know, there is still much to hope for in the world. We are not alone; we have many friends who like us are trying to survive and defeat evil. I suggest it is time we joined them."

Gus began to gather up his things, placing them in a backpack he took from Toprak and started to walk toward the door.

"Where are we going?" asked Matt.

Gus turned around and smiled, "Home Sir Matthew."

Matt then realized what he was referring to but was still unclear how there were going to manage traversing an ocean, "How? The last plane out of here just flew away and there is still the Atlantic in our way, how do you propose we get over that?"

Gus paused for a moment and then continued, "From what I remember, there is an old floating museum in Astoria called _The Star of India_ , A tall ship built around 1860—an iron ship still in good repair and the last I heard they still take her out annually in the summer. With any luck, we might be able to commandeer her."

The _Star of India_ was once a longtime fixture in San Diego but in the '20's the citizens of California demanded more responsible leadership of their bankrupt state and they sold off large tracts of land to the private sector and as part of the California garage sale, the _Star of India_ was sold to the state of Washington for 1,000,000 GD and was restored with its original name _Euterpe_ , which was the Greek muse of music and meant gladsome delight. The _Euterpe_ had circumnavigated the world 22 times, the last one occurring just two years ago as part of the ship's 175th birthday. The ship was 280 feet in length with a draft of 21 and a half feet, a monster of a ship to sail with just six men however, Gus decided to keep that minor detail to himself hoping they could find some extra hands on the coast.

Shay would have normally been the first one to point out any flaw in Gus's plan—like if anyone knew how to sail—but after his recent interview he quickly volunteered to be hopeful. "I'm with you Gus," he said as he walked over and rolled up a dirty blanket and stuck it in his backpack. Gus smiled knowing what was motivating Shay as Ted and Jess were still wiping the sleep from their eyes and clumsily trying to catch up with Gus and Shay's energy.

Walking out to the yard surrounding the compound, Hank and Matt were already releasing the horses from the makeshift corral they had made last night using the chain link fencing Matt was able to effortlessly rip from the posts. Hank noticed that the horses had been feeding all night on the tall grass that was now low stubble and after mounting up, he lead the group westward into the foothills in search of water for both themselves and the horses.

Riding away, Shay turned around for one last look and smiled, and then turned around again noticing that the building was perhaps the only one in the vicinity that was not destroyed. Gus was riding directly behind Shay and seeing him turn around multiple times asked, "What's the matter, you see a ghost?"

Shay stared at Gus for a moment not knowing what to say and then shook his head, "I just noticed that building is the only one still standing. What's so special about it?"

Gus also turned around and then said, "Hmm—that is curious," and then continued riding saying nothing more.

As they rode, Gus reflected on what Shay had observed and began running through different chemical scenarios in his mind and what he knew about redox reactions. Gus had always been intrigued with chemical reactions and how the presence of one element with another created something altogether new and he loved to experiment whenever he could. Over the years he had determined that boiling water in a copper kettle produced much better tea than a steel container and light years better than boiling water in a glass container. He had discovered that the copper actually changed the water molecule slightly enough to better extract the flavor of black tea making it burn ever so slightly while going down and then finish smooth. He smiled when he remembered once boiling the tea and the water together in an old wooden bowl and gave himself methanol poisoning—he couldn't get out of bed for three days and quickly determined that wasn't a good combination.

Several miles later, Gus called out to Shay who was still riding ahead of him, "Arsenic."

Shay turned around confused, "You need some or are you offering?"

Ted who was riding behind Gus chimed in, "I think that might be the answer to the events of the past 24 hours, I think we should all have some."

"Arsenic is why that building didn't burn like the rest," said Gus, "Modern cement contains trace amounts of arsenic—you mix that with ozone and you have Armageddon."

Everyone continued to ride along quietly considering what Gus had said and after a few minutes Matt responded flippantly, "Good to know Gus, we'll have to avoid that in the future."

The ride was long and mostly quiet as everyone followed behind Hank in single file, only stopping along the clean streams for water and they all ate the last of their food at noon and it was now almost dusk. They were making their way in a near west-southwest direction however, riding in a direct path was impossible when traversing mountain ranges and at the moment they were heading due west as they were just about to come out of a narrow canyon. Gus rode past Shay and Matt and came alongside Hank and told him that they needed to stop. They had been riding for almost seven hours strait and now was as good a time to rest as any.

Everyone dismounted, stretched their legs and rubbed their aching backsides, none of them was used to riding bareback or even a horse for that matter—everyone except for Hank that is. He was no worse for the long ride and didn't even dismount while everyone else rested.

"Why did we stop?" asked Matt as he approached Gus.

"For the past couple hours I've had a general feeling of caution wash over me and just now I saw in my mind the valley we are about to ride into—it was full of Toprak soldiers," said Gus as he sat down on a fallen log wiping sweat from under his beard.

The last time anyone had shaved was over two weeks ago and they all had inch long beards and growing longer every day. Their hair had also grown longer since they left DC. and they all looked like a band of renegades and mountain men.

Due to the heavy smoke in the air, daylight was shorter than usual and rather than continue out of the canyon in the dark, they all bedded down for the night and made their way into the valley at first light. While everyone expected to see traces of a Toprak army in the valley, no one expected to see what they found.

The valley was covered with bodies as if there had been a great battle and the dead were left to the coyotes and Skanicum. Looking around it was obvious that the battle had been an internal one, Toprak soldier against Toprak soldier and the losses on both sides were great. Ted estimated that there were over 40,000 dead which was about half of the Toprak army in America. Gus correctly assumed that the army must have reassembled after the Minimum and had major disagreements on what to do and where to do it. However many survived the battle, they could see their tracks heading on a northwest course, no doubt returning to the ships that brought them here docked in Vancouver.

The dead were all brutally mangled as was Toprak's signature warfare. As they made their way across the valley they collected individual soldier rations off of the dead and out of their packs—collecting enough provisions to last several months. The only thing they now needed was some pack horses. There were many dead horses on the battlefield and Hank guessed that there might be stray horses in the surrounding wilderness that fled the scene and as he rode through the lodge pole pines he spotted a total of 11. One of them was badly wounded and was lying in a bed of joint grass slowly bleeding out. Hank climbed off his horse and mercifully slit its throat, and rounded up the other horses and led them back.

Everyone gathered up whatever ancillary supplies and gear they could find and each of them except Hank also pulled a saddle off a dead horse and placed it upon their own—a very welcome comfort in a very raw world. Matt traded out the mare he had been riding with a large Percheron that Hank found which was much better suited for his size. Walking through the battlefield, Matt also collected several long swords and placed them in a rifle scabbard attached to his saddle and he especially prized a very large two-headed axe weighing over 100 pounds. With his increased strength, wielding it was easy and he took great pleasure trying it out on large logs and trees, being able to fell a tree over 15 inches in diameter with one swing.

By early afternoon, the pack horses were all burdened with their maximum loads and they happily mounted up using their stirrups and sitting comfortably in their saddles. When they were ready to move out, Gus turned to look for Matt and though he was not seen he could be heard grunting loudly after which a large tree could be heard falling somewhere in the forest. Gus turned to Shay and told him to go and tell Paul Bunyan it was time to go and in a few minutes they both rode up joining the group.

Refreshed and now well provisioned, the feeling in the group was much lighter and Matt even talked Jess into singing as Gus and Matt joined in with the harmony, but after a short while the rest of the group took a vote prohibiting Matt to sing.

Making good time for an overland horse ride, they reached the Pacific just as the winter snows began to lay down a heavy white blanket in the Cascades. Wherever they could, they followed the highways and interstates which made their progress much faster than traversing the wilderness. Most of the major bridges had all been destroyed of course, but wherever the roads were made of asphalt and not concrete they had an easy ride.

They also intentionally stayed away from the larger cites since whatever had survived would no doubt be warring amongst themselves for the limited supplies of food and water. However, they were surprised to see just how few people had survived even in the smaller towns and they guessed survival was less than 10 percent.

They approached the Columbia River around noon and made a quick camp but with no fire, not wanting to attract any attention. Tongue Point where the _Euterpe_ was docked was on the other side of the Columbian estuary which was nearly four miles across. They needed to find a means of transport, even the smallest craft would do and they began riding the shoreline looking for any kind of boat or dingy.

Hank and Matt rode along the old 401 highway which was now a pile of rocks and ash. Near the Astoria-Megler Bridge they found a car ferry washed up on shore and as they inspected it, they found it had a ruptured pontoon. The sun was starting to set and they had already ridden 10 miles to find the ferry so Hank determined that they would probably not find anything as good, Matt nodded in agreement.

Hank ordered Matt to go cut down four or five large trees as Matt smiled and quickly walked up over the small bluff to the north of the estuary and in a few minutes Hank could hear trees falling after each loud grunt. Within a few minutes Matt returned dragging a large tree over the bluff and made several trips bringing more.

Hank de-limbed the logs and tied them together and then he and Matt pulled the ferry over the top of the logs and secured them. Standing back very proud of their quick work Hank noticed that the ferry was still firmly beached and wondered how they would ever get it floating. Without a word, Matt tied a rope to his horse and attempted to pull it into the water but it only moved a few inches and in frustration, Matt climbed off his horse and in waist-deep water pulled on the rope and together they successfully dragged the ferry until it floated.

Hank jumped up onto the deck of the small ferry with his gear and smiled at Matt, "You make good horse."

Matt also unloaded his gear onto the ferry and then slapped his horse sending it running out of the river and disappearing over the bluff. At first the current was almost too much to overcome as they labored to paddle against it trying to stop from being pushed out to sea but they slowly started to make headway and then Hank noticed that the tide was coming in which pushed them inland where all they had to do was steer around debris and aim for camp.

Now that they didn't have to paddle, they both leaned on the rail and looked out for people on the shore that might do them harm. Matt wasn't overly concerned since the days of gunpowder were over and he thought to himself how cowardly guns were in general and how much more honest a sword fight was—even Hmmane. His thoughts were interrupted by Hank tapping him on the shoulder and pointing to the large Astoria-Megler Bridge. Since it was nearly all made of concrete, it was in pieces lying in the relatively shallow waters of the estuary. Scanning the horizon they both determined that once they secured the _Euterpe_ , skirting the north side of the estuary would give them the best chance of not running aground since the waters there appeared deeper.

In the red twilight, they came within shouting distance of the camp and Shay, Ted and Jess all came to help them land the ferry. They loaded up all their gear and then waited for the sun to completely set so that they could hopefully progress across the river unnoticed. The _Euterpe_ was docked on the east side of Tongue Point which would allow them to approach the dock completely unnoticed and then skirt the small peninsula and climb aboard on the starboard side.

As they made way, they occasionally struck items in the water but it was too dark to see what they were exactly and even if the sun were up, the water was like thick black oil from all the ash in it. As they approached the other side where the current was strongest they could smell death and drawing near the peninsula they could see mounds of dead salmon washed up on the shore. Everyone covered their noses until they reached the east side and to their surprise, the _Euterpe_ was not tied up to the dock but was run aground 30 yards ahead of them. By the look of the angle it leaned, it appeared that it might actually float at high tide. Hank guided the ferry onto the rocky shore and not wanting to make a noise, everyone held their breath as it made a loud scrape.

Quietly, they all made their way toward the _Euterpe_ leaving Hank and Gus on the ferry to guard their supplies since food had become more valuable than gold.

Matt was his usual fearless self and was actually a little giddy as he climbed up the side of the ship. Shay bit his tongue remembering that he was acting exactly like he was when they were following Abdul on the Ellipse in DC—reckless and immature.

Stepping on deck and finding it quiet, Matt signaled the others to come aboard as he quietly explored the entire upper deck finding it empty. Matt may have been confident but even he knew once they went below decks in the darkness, it was a different game where anyone—even a woman could prove deadly with the right weapon and angle. Since Matt was the only one brave enough to pull a suit of Kevlar armor off a dead soldier back on the Toprak battlefield, he went first as the others drew their swords and slowly climbed down the fore companionway.

After coming to the first deck, Matt thought he heard something move behind him and turning around he saw a flash of light and then something that sounded like a gun. He then concluded it was a gun as the bullet hit him in the arm knocking him into a post. He threw his axe into his other hand and swung in the darkness in the direction of the shot and he felt the axe strike something and then fall to the deck with a thud.

Just then a match was lit and turning around they saw a woman standing with a knife in her hand shaking. Her right leg was badly burned and she limped backwards seeing that she was outnumbered three to one and the site of Matt's axe caused her to drop her small knife and in a defeated tone said, "I'll give you what you want but I don't have any food."

Matt set down his axe and reached out taking the lit match from her and lit an oil lamp that was hanging on the companionway railing, "We only want the ship, we are not here to hurt you or take anything from you."

The woman looked over at the man Matt had killed and saw that he was nearly cut in half. Matt started to apologize to the woman when she stopped him, "I'm not crying over him—I think I'll be thanking you unless you want the same thing he did."

Jess pushed passed Matt and took her by the hand. He assured her that she would not be molested in any way and that she could now travel with them and enjoy both their provisions and their protection. She looked at them in disbelief wondering if there were still men of honor and integrity left in the world and as she looked at them in relief she asked, "We're not going anywhere—if you hadn't noticed, the ship is wrecked. Even if you could, where would you go?"

Ted was still standing on the companionway and as he took the last two steps down to the lower deck he assured the woman that they could get it afloat, "It appears she will float again at full tide and with the help of all the sails, she just might pull herself off this sandbar. Then, if we get that lucky, we will be sailing for England."

The woman laughed, "You'll die before you get halfway since there are no provisions on board. This is a bloody museum; I should know I used to work here."

Matt was pulling at his shoulder trying to inspect the gunshot wound and determined that the bullet was still lodged in his arm which surprised him at such a point-blank range. Tearing off the sleeve of his shirt, he tied it around his arm to stop the bleeding and as he pulled it tight using his teeth he replied, "We have supplies enough. Were you and that man the only ones on board?"

"Yes, we were able to defend the ship using some old black powder and a flintlock pistol that was in the museum; however that ball in your arm was the last of it."

Matt nodded as he realized why the bullet had not passed all the way through his arm. It wasn't a bullet, just an iron ball and probably without a full charge of powder.

Ted was thinking through the implications of the powder and how it was able to ignite as he turned to the woman, "Old powder you say—how old?"

The woman looked up as she tried to estimate its origin, "Probably late 17th century. We used to have a pirate display on deck four with artifacts from the Caribbean—although I had always surmised that it was fake."

Jess then extended his hand to the woman, "Jess Erdem mam," and he went around the group introducing everyone as they nodded in a casual greeting.

"I'm Nicole—did you say your name was Jess Erdem—the Senator?" said the woman after exchanging greetings with the group.

"Yes ma'am, in the flesh—beat up and worn-out but I'm the guy."

Nicole smiled and then blushed slightly, "I'm from Dallas—I didn't vote for you by the way, but I wish I had now."

Jess smiled warmly, "Maybe in the next election hmm?"

Just then they heard footsteps on the upper deck and soon heard Hank's deep raspy voice shouting down the companionway, "Is this a rabbit hole or a badger hole?"

Shay turned his head and yelled up, "The badger is dead, just us rabbits left."

The supplies were quickly brought on board and stowed below decks and they began stretching sails as quickly as they could be brought up on deck. Not being able to help at all due to her leg, Nicole watched everyone struggle in the darkness trying to fit the sails and after a few minutes she turned to Gus who appeared to be in charge of the failing operation, "You guys don't have a clue what you're doing do you?"

Gus turned to Nicole and smiled, "Is it that obvious? Have you rigged her before?"

Nicole nodded, "A few times. I was part of the crew that circumnavigated her two years ago and after returning to port I stayed on to work the museum."

Gus gratefully turned the operation over to Nicole and within the hour every sail was spread as the flood reached full tide and the ship slowly moved upright and began to scrape off the sandbar with the help of the wind in the sails. Navigation at night in the estuary was always hazardous but tonight it was doubly so with all the new unmarked hazards in the water. Nicole recommended that they drop anchor once they cleared the Tongue and wait for sunrise before attempting to sail past the destroyed bridge. Everyone agreed and they anchored in 45 feet of water about a mile offshore and they all slept for the few hours that were left before a red sun appeared over the Cascades.

Wining the anchor was hard work since it was so fast in the muddy bottom but as they all pushed at the windlass they slowly pulled it free and Nicole ordered only the lower main and mizzen sails to be set so that she could navigate slowly around the obstacle course between the Tongue and the Pacific.

As they slowly moved forward in the morning breezes Gus saw Hank on the shore waving them off. He hadn't noticed that Hank wasn't on board and as he called the crew over to the taffrail they all looked on in panic thinking that they had somehow forgotten him. Their fear was soon abated when they saw him give a final wave and rode off with a half dozen other Indians toward the Cascades.

"What is he doing?" asked Shay feeling like Hank was making a terrible mistake.

Gus put his hand on Shay's shoulder, "He's going home. His home has always been in the wilderness and as you know, it is all still very much alive and well. You know it's funny—for over 200 years the Native Americans were at the bottom of American society, but today—today they ride unmolested and firmly in control. I should think they will alone control America's future, especially since Horsa is on the run."

# Chapter 22

Horsa had sailed into Vancouver, British Columbia three months ago with nine ships and secured them at the Tsawwassen Ferry Terminal near Point Roberts. He had left one hundred men to guard them, but as he approached the port he couldn't see any masts rising in the distance where they ought to have been. He had been watching the horizon over the past hour as they marched through the black ruins of Vancouver, dreading his army's reaction if all their transports out of America were destroyed, or worse if there were not enough ships afloat to take them all off together. He had already sustained heavy losses in the mountains of Montana two months ago when the army was split over the decision to plunder what was left of the United States or return home to Belarus where they knew they had ample supplies and, most importantly, food. The disagreement become bloody when the opposing sides began collecting weapons and claiming the remaining supplies. The party choosing to stay in America felt they should have the lion's share of all the supplies and that's when weapons were drawn and by sunset 40,000 men were dead.

When they were within 10 miles of the port, Horsa sent a scout ahead to assess the situation and just as Horsa feared, the scout returned with bad news. Horsa rode out to meet him so that they would be out of earshot of the rest of the army and Horsa directed the scout to speak quietly. Nodding the scout reported, "I could only account for seven ships and they were all sitting at the bottom of the harbor with only the masts showing. The docks themselves are completely destroyed and even if a single ship was afloat we would have to swim to her."

Horsa sighed and leaned forward resting his arms on the horn of his saddle and looking westward in the direction of the port, "So where are the other two ships—do you know how deep the harbor is? Perhaps they have just sunk completely below the water."

The scout thought a minute but then shook his head, "I don't know for sure but the harbor is dredged so it couldn't be over fifty feet I would think, however the water is so black that you couldn't see to the bottom of a tea cup—so even if they were completely drowned you wouldn't be able see them sir."

Horsa sat quietly for over five minutes assessing the situation and the options he had—which wasn't many. He knew the army was already very fatigued since most of them had walked the 300 miles to the coast and this could quite possibly be the very last straw. Toprak soldiers were all soldiers of fortune and there hadn't been any reward or plunder since they landed in America, which was supposed to be the opportunity of a lifetime.

Horsa then sat up in his saddle, "I want you to quietly pass the word to all the officers that they are to meet me on the other side of that bluff in 30 minutes," he said pointing to a small rise a quarter of a mile to the south.

The scout nodded and as he was about to ride back Horsa stopped him, "And bring me a harbinger." The scout nodded again, flanked his horse and rode back to the main body of the army who were all resting. Several soldiers had built a fire and were brewing coffee in an attempt to warm up in the cold northwest winter rain, made all the colder due to the Minimum.

Horsa turned and rode over the bluff to wait for his officers but as he reached the top, which was approximately 50 feet high, he saw four masts protruding from the beach at an angle. One of his ships was lying on its side in shallow water just off Point Roberts. Horsa pulled his binoculars from his saddlebag and inspected the ship as best he could from that distance. As far as he could tell, it was seaworthy and must have drifted from the docks during the Minimum destruction and then washed upon the Point. There wasn't time to ride down to make a full inspection before his officers arrived but it really didn't matter since it was the only hope of getting back to Belarus. The much bigger problem was how he would peacefully select less than one thousand men out of thirty-thousand.

Horsa determined he had only one option and as he watched his officers approach he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, pulling his cloak higher on his neck to stop the never-ending rain from running down his back. He instructed his officers that there was a very strong Canadian Army to the south which was guarding their ships. He wanted them to return to the main body of the Toprak Army and announce that they each needed 100 men to volunteer to meet the Canadian Army. He also instructed them to be sure and stress that the battle would be very sore as the Canadians were very well armed.

His officers were used to taking orders without question and even though they couldn't see any Canadians to the south, they all saluted with a fist to the chest and rode back toward the encampment. Just before the officers left, the scout returned with a harbinger sitting behind him on his horse and as he reached Horsa, the scout pushed the harbinger off and he fell into the mud at the feet of Horsa's Percheron.

Horsa got off his horse, took a rope from his saddle, bound the harbinger hand and foot and then tied the long end of the rope to his saddle. He then mounted and waited for his officers with their hundreds to start making their way back toward him. He looked down at the harbinger who was shivering from cold and fear, "In a few minutes you'll be released and your torment will end—take courage."

As they waited the scout cautiously said, "Pardon my ignorance sir but, I don't see any Canadian army. Are they far off?"

Horsa smiled only slightly, not taking as much pleasure in his deceit as he normally did, "There is no army. We cannot all sail on a single ship, which is all we have," he said pointing to the ship on the Point, "I won't be taking any bloody cowards back to Belarus."

The sun was starting to set as Horsa finally saw his officers and their hundreds approaching and looking through binoculars he saw that the remainder of the Toprak army was content to let their comrade's march off to fight for them in the dark rain. Seeing their lazy complacency greatly angered Horsa and after the volunteer division was past the bluff, he took out a knife and slit the harbinger's throat and then brutally flanked his horse sending it running back toward the encampment dragging the harbinger behind it, leaving a trail of blood.

Horsa and the scout watched the horse enter the encampment and then Horsa held out his hand. The scout noticed there were four scars crisscrossing his palm and he watched Horsa make a final deep cut on his palm, completing an inverted five-point star on his hand. It bled profusely and he then walked over to the trail of blood and yelled very loudly, "BASLATMAK!" and slammed his hand down on the harbinger blood trail that led to the encampment.

The scout knew that the word _Baslatmak_ was the Turkish word used to initiate a harbinger herald but as Horsa hit the ground it shook the earth and intense fire shot up along the blood trail all the way to the encampment and when it reached the harbinger it violently exploded sending shock waves back toward them. Horsa and the volunteer division all instinctively fell to the ground when they heard the explosion as the shock wave passed over their heads. Horsa lay on the muddy ground listening to the screams and moans of his once great army being destroyed. He had never known failure in war and the feeling was surreal and very unsettling as he lay looking up at the rain falling on his face, his back sinking deeper into the mud.

The scout was beyond afraid and as he lay next to him on the ground he dared not even move wondering how a man could wield such unbelievable power—power enough to destroy an entire army with one hand. However, the act seemed to rob Horsa of all his strength and he could hear him breathing very heavily and moaning quietly, secretly concealing his vulnerability.

Minutes passed and at last an officer approached Horsa to inquire if he was alright, "Of course I'm alright," he said angrily as he rose to his feet still noticeably weak.

By the time Horsa and his volunteer army reached the ship, the tide had already come in and the ship was nearly upright. Once they raised the sails, she stood strong and began to come about. Horsa made his way to the captain's quarters leaving the sailing to one of his officers who was also a rated sailing master. He collapsed on his bed and finally gave in to his extreme fatigue and wondered which of his ships he was on. He rolled over and on the floor he found a log book and he held it up to the hazy moonlight and read, "Baslatmak." He threw the log on the floor and rolled onto his back and sighed, "Perfect."

Horsa closed his eyes and quickly drifted into a dream. As usual, but especially in times of great fatigue, Horsa wandered in his sleep walking behind Afet. He anxiously anticipated her looking back at him like she did so often during the Russian wars. In most of his dreams when Afet turned to look at him, she was very sad and sullen but as Horsa's heart began to pound in anticipation, she turned and smiled. Horsa was drawn into his dream even deeper but then abruptly shocked into morning by a knock on his cabin door and as he opened his eyes, the early sun was reflecting off the sea and through the stern windows. He sat up and called out, "Enter."

One of his officers came into the cabin, saluted and then reported, "Sails were spotted to the south during the morning watch, we have been trailing her since but haven't been able to gain on her sir—and not knowing your orders, we have not strongly pursued."

"Why the hell was I not awakened when you first spotted her?" said Horsa staggering to his feet.

The officer bowed his head and respectfully replied, "You were not responding to be roused sir."

Horsa looked at the traditional naval clock hanging in the cabin and saw that it was nearly noon, "Never mind then—carry on, I shall be on deck momentarily."

"Yes sir," responded the officer and after saluting he left the cabin, shutting the door.

Horsa couldn't see that there was any reason to hurry since there was little they could do about another ship anyway. After all this wasn't the 18th century where oceans were battlefields and they didn't even have a gun on board that would fire. So he took his time enjoying a warm shower and a full breakfast of eggs and cold cuts of cow's tongue. Dressed and greatly refreshed he came up on deck as the officer of the watch announced his presence, "Horsa on deck!"

Horsa looked southward and couldn't see any ship and just as he was about to speak the officer of the watch told him he would need to climb up to the crosstrees to see it. From the low perspective of the deck of a ship, the Hmman eye can only see about three miles before the curvature of the earth hides things beyond the visible horizon. Horsa held onto the shrouds and climbed up to the crosstrees. From that vantage point he could see nearly 15 miles and there on the horizon was a spread of canvas. With binoculars he could see a three mast ship heading on their same course. He considered for a moment that there was a Toprak ship still unaccounted for and he held up the binoculars again this time studying the mysterious ship for identification. As both ships rose and fell on the ocean swell, the hull of the other ship could only be seen for brief moments but at length, Horsa was able to determine that the hull of the other ship was black—all Toprak ships were white and he hung the binoculars around his neck and climbed down the shrouds.

Handing the binoculars to the officer of the watch he said, "Let's keep an eye on her, alert me if we come within three miles of her, otherwise, put us on a direct course for Tangiers—I took a herald this morning and Hengist is stranded there. It appears his luck has been the same as ours—except we still have a ship."

The _Baslatmak_ was comfortably cruising at 12 knots on a slight swell and Horsa walked to the bow still studying the horizon as the spray occasionally came over the rail providing much needed refreshment. Whatever the ship was on the horizon he felt he could rest easy knowing that it was probably not hostile since the whole world was licking their wounds and preparing for what would be a very long, cold and hungry winter.

As Horsa stood on the bow, he reflected on Toprak's global mission and began rearranging the various tactics and strategies so that they might again lead toward the Toprak Esir. The biggest obstacle Toprak faced was the loss of their once very large fleet of 175 ships, all no doubt sitting at the bottom of the ocean somewhere. Toprak still had plenty of gold but the only thing of value since the Minimum was food and while Toprak had great reserves of it, Horsa wondered if they had enough to make it double as both money and victuals. Horsa then had an idea—Toprak would just have to amass more food by any means they could. Growing it of course was an obvious option but that was a long-term plan, and they needed it now. The only option was to steal it where they could—an option Horsa liked very much.

The longer he held still, the more he was reminded of his weakened state due to the harbinger ignition he performed yesterday. As he schemed, his mind wandered and just beyond the bowsprit he saw Afet walking before the ship and as he shook his head in an effort to clear his daydream, he could see white sails rising and falling on the distant horizon exactly to the same rhythm of Afet's bare feet. He stood up to clear his head and placed his foot on the base of the bowsprit then looked to the horizon with his binoculars. He was certain now that he was not dreaming—there on the horizon was a full spread of sails on a black, three mast ship—they were gaining on her.

He looked up at the _Baslatmak's_ spread, ordered every sail to bent and instructed the helmsman to purse the ship that was now two points off port and call the entire crew on deck. Horsa's crew was made up of a pathetic group of soldiers who had spent the past two months marching across Montana and Washington after they had killed almost half of their fellow soldiers in a sore battle of disagreement. However, the soldiers that were on board Horsa considered the best of what was left of his once proud and powerful army.

The crew stood at strict attention as Horsa walked along with his Chief Officer as if the crew were having an inspection. Horsa rubbed his sore hand as he folded them behind his back and came up with a motivating plan before he addressed what was left of his crew, "While I feel we have done very well to maintain and preserve our supplies over the last two months of hell, I regret to inform you all that we might not have enough victuals to see us to the far side of the Mediterranean. I am therefore placing the entire ship, officers included on three quarter rations until further notice."

There were quiet murmurs heard around the deck as Horsa continued, "The _Baslatmak_ was the most ill provisioned of the fleet and our supplies from Montana will not be sufficient unless we come upon good fortune."

Horsa then turned to look at the ship on the horizon and pointed, "Behold our good fortune!"

The crew all cheered and as the officers began commanding them to pipe down Horsa continued, "Without modern weapons, we shall have to fight like pirates—pirates without guns that is. It will be a boarding party attack or nothing. However, I imagine it will be a rather easy task compared to Montana. I suspect we will be fighting a lily white crew of California day-sailors." The crew was still largely uncontrolled and they all broke out into laughter and cheers.

Horsa dismissed his crew, called his officers together and began reorganizing his army into a navy.

"Excellent rouse sir," said Horsa's Chief Officer.

Horsa turned to him apprehensively and responded with no emotion, "That wasn't a rouse. Unless we can find or plunder additional supplies we shall have to eat our harbingers before we reach Tangiers."

After the necessary arrangements and assignments were made, Horsa walked back on deck and saw his prey now about two points off starboard and almost completely hull up. He reached for the binoculars and in the fading light of the day could barely make out the ship's name proudly displayed in gold leaf on her stern— _Euterpe_.

* * *

Matt made his way above deck on the _Euterpe_ stretching after a satisfying meal of mutton and cornbread. His arm was still sore from the shot Nicole fired at him, especially after Gus retrieved the ball from his bicep with a spoon. Most of the provisions they took from Toprak in Montana consisted of a wide assortment of aposeptic meat and corn flour—both of which were very heavy and was therefore left behind by so many of the Toprak army having to walk back to Vancouver. Aposeptic meat was a modern process of treating raw meats which allowed it to be left at any temperature indefinitely without spoiling. The technical term was actually called aposeptic-pico, which defined the level of bacterial abatement and pico meaning the trillionth level. Unlike the food preservatives that were in the end ingested by Hmmans, aposeptics were applied to the surface of meats and when cooked, burned off completely.

In the remaining minutes of daylight at thirty-seven latitude, Matt approached Nicole at the helm and told her Gus had prepared some awesome English lamb in the forward mess and if she were hungry he would take over for her. He was joking of course since he knew Nicole had not had anything solid to eat except for some bread since early that morning. Nicole eagerly accepted his offer but before going below deck she turned and said, "Just steer straight," but then realizing that was a meaningless term on an open ocean to a neophyte she said, " _Qto_ _Ostro verso Scirocco_ ," she smiled teasing Matt knowing he would not have a clue about traditional wind points and then clarified for a landlubber, "One hundred seventy degrees," and then walked back and pointed at the compass, "south by east."

Matt smiled and saluted un-intimidated, "Aye-aye Captain!"

Nicole disappeared down the companionway and Matt took a deep, cleansing breath of the ocean air. It had been months since he had breathed air that was smoke-free and he inhaled long and deep. enjoying the full expansion of his lungs with the Hmmid air. The sun was now below the horizon and the clouds were purple where they met the sea fading into a tranquil expanse of fading lavender and pink.

As Matt was contemplating how peaceful the night was, Gus came up on deck and rather than look at Matt as he spoke, he stared past him at the aft horizon, "We have a predator approaching."

Matt hurled around to see a white hull-up ship with all her sails spread in pursuit, "How did you know she was there? I just came up on deck and didn't see her."

Gus took notice of the recently setting sun and the position of the approaching ship and said, "She must have been hidden in the glare of the setting sun, but I didn't know she was there by seeing her. I felt something amiss while preparing Nicole a plate."

"Just like you felt before we reached the Toprak battlefield in Montana?" said Matt turning to look at the compass to make she he was still on course.

Gus leaned on the port rail and pulled on his beard, "Yes, the exact feeling as a matter of fact, which is odd. I don't feel the danger of an impending event but it is centered on a person—whom I'm not sure. I'm convinced it is someone I've met and the signature is the same as Montana."

"Signature?" asked Matt.

Gus was in deep thought trying to analyze the clairvoyant image in his mind and responded slowly, "Yes—ever since the Minimum destroyed everything, it's like my hidden eyes are opened wider."

"Don't you mean your hidden eye?" said Matt reminding Gus about their conversation with Professor Winston at Oxford and his private lecture on the penal gland being known as the third eye and how the effects of the Minimum will cause it to be more open due to the decrease of melatonin production.

Gus turned to look at the ship __ which was gaining perhaps as much as a 1000 feet per hour. At that rate they would be upon them by morning. Unlike old oceanic wars, there wasn't any gun powder that would explode so the only real threat was the ship getting close enough to board. It was obvious that the ship was a faster sailer than the _Euterpe_ but given that the ship was nearly 200 years newer it was not a surprise.

"All we can do is pray for better wind than they," said Gus with an ill attempt to be Hmmorous.

Neither Matt nor Gus saw Nicole come back on deck and the first thing she noticed was the ship trailing them and noting their position she laugh slightly, "We won't have to worry about them at all if they stay on their present course."

"Why is that?" asked Matt.

"They are coming at us all wrong—downwind," replied Nicole as she took the helm and made a slight adjustment to their direction taking advantage of the freshening breeze. "If they come at us from that angle, we will have the weather gauge and the advantage of maneuverability—they'll never get close enough to board us."

Matt joined Gus at the rail impressed with Nicole's skill as a sailor and as he watched her harness every last bit of wind he asked, "How can you be so sure? She is certainly the faster ship."

Nicole thought a moment of how she could explain something that was so second nature to seasoned sailors and then concluded, "Experience—it almost wouldn't matter if we were in a row boat, they are downwind which means in order to catch us they would need to beat into the wind—a very slow process and after their first tack, we would be a mile ahead of them."

She slid up onto a stool she brought from below decks and took a bite of cornbread and then casually turned to look at the white ship now less than two miles distant and then looked forward again unconcerned, "All we need to do is make sure we stay upwind—they have already made a major tactical error."

The _Euterpe_ was not nearly as disciplined as she should have been but their navigator was superior than most and they all took turns with the helm and manning sails as needs dictated. By morning, the mysterious ship was within hailing distance, less than 100 yards as all hands on both ships came on deck. Without a sound, the opposing crews stood and watched as their ships sailed alongside each other. The other ship reduced sail in order that they might keep an even broadside with the _Euterpe_ and as they matched their speed, there was only 50 yards between the ships, close enough to distinguish faces.

Gus scanned the white ship for any familiar faces and just as he was about to conclude that he didn't know to whom the ship belonged, he saw a very large man come on deck with long unkempt hair and beard—Horsa—who also quickly recognized Gus.

"Ahoy there Lord Guiscard—how pleasant it is to see you not only alive but on a bloody ship in the middle of the Pacific!" yelled Horsa cupping his hands to his mouth.

Before responding, Gus turned to Nicole and asked for reassurance that the Toprak ship could not catch them whereupon Nicole nodded. Gus turned and yelled over the shrinking fifty yard distance between the two ships, "Ah—and a good morning to you sir. I see you too have escaped the Minimum tolerably well?"

Nicole noticed the gap between the ships was narrowing and she matched the _Baslatmak's_ tack, keeping them at a safe distance. Matt stood on deck watching a very intense and secretly hostile situation unfold and couldn't help but wonder if old sea battles were similar to this, where in time they would eventually kill each other but for now, both sides were content to exchange pleasantries in the warmth of the morning sun.

By late afternoon, the _Baslatmak_ was not any nearer, in fact, the spread of sea between two ships appeared to be even greater as Nicole skillfully matched Toprak's every move. In the last watch of daylight, Horsa was seen on deck reprimanding his sailing master for failing to catch the _Euterpe_ in a somewhat subdued matter obviously trying to be discrete. Even though Horsa was not a sailor, it was obvious to him that his Master had approached the engagement all wrong and he was frustrated and very angry to once again miss an engagement.

The _Baslatmak_ was over a half mile away to the east as the morning sun shone through her rigging since the winds had blown steady and consistently through the night. Jess made his way to the quarter deck and was enjoying a hot cup of coffee when he noticed some excitement on deck of the _Baslatmak_. He watched for several minutes and then determined that they were responding to something in the water, most-likely a shark. They were cruising into warmer waters now and even though it was early January, the morning temperature was a pleasant 50 degrees and it would warm up to 70 by mid-day.

Jess continued to be entertained by the _Baslatmak_ crew as they could be seen running from one side of the ship to the other, yelling and shouting over the whereabouts of the shark. He did think it rather curious that they were so interested in it and concluded that it must be of an extraordinary size or perhaps it might even be a whale—however, he could not see anything in the water of that size. He took another sip of coffee just as he got the strangest feeling like he was being watched. Without thinking too much about it, he turned around and saw the light foam churning up from under the moving ship in a long wake that could be seen two miles behind. It looked like a very long road with a slight curve as they held a steady course steering very close to the wind. He couldn't help his thoughts from wandering into another age when the _Euterpe_ was the most modern development in ocean travel; an iron-hulled ship that was still a rather good sailer nearly 200 years later _. I wonder how many men have stood on this quarter deck and watched the world go by as she has sailed round the world_. He thought to himself. His thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sound of a splash and followed by anxious voices over on the _Baslatmak_.

It was obvious that a man had gone overboard but the _Baslatmak_ was too far away to make out any details. As he watched he was fairly certain that the man was not recovered as the crew on deck at last lost interest after a time and dispersed. For the second time in the last 30 minutes, Jess felt the eyes of someone or something watching him but before he instinctively turned around, he analyzed his intuition and confirmed that he was definitely being watched and tried to look as far to the right as he could without turning his head but he couldn't see anything. With a quick spin, he whirled around and after his mind was able to fully absorb what he saw, he fell against the mizzen, spilling his coffee and then falling onto his back.

Nicole, who was always at the helm while they were running from the _Baslatmak,_ turned and looked down at the Priest and in a tired voice said, "That's an odd position to be saying your morning prayers Father."

Nicole started referring to Jess as the Priest and Father ever since their second day on the water, a title Jess never responded to but secretly liked. Jess looked up at Nicole with a look of shock on his face, first at what he saw in the water and second for falling onto his back. Seeing the Priest in such a state, Nicole reached down with one hand sensing that something was wrong, "Are you quite all right Father?"

Jess staggered to his feet and timidly looked over the quarter deck rail into the deep blue ocean. He stared into the wake watching the foam fade away into the distance for several long minutes before he turned to look at Nicole. Nicole was facing forward and not looking at Jess as he had suspected she was, but without turning around she responded, "Nice to know I'm not going mad—thank you Father for confirming it for me."

"What—what are you talking about?" replied Jess pretending to be confused.

Nicole turned to look at Jess and saw he was still scanning the water directly below the railing, "You probably shouldn't be too eager to see it again—that is if you believe what legends say about mermaids."

Jess turned from the rail to look at Nicole, surprised that she had actually confirmed what he thought he saw, "Mermaids?"

"You know that is what you saw, and I thought I saw one too last night. I had almost convinced myself that I was just tired—you know, as sailors get when they are on deck all alone in the middle of the night."

Nicole laughed as she remembered a hallucinogenic incident on the far side of Africa during one of her circumnavigations, "Once off the cost of Mauritius I talked for about two hours with a grey bearded man dressed in foul weather gear who told me of how he sailed these waters in a very severe storm in '91. It wasn't until I realized he meant 1791 and how all hands were lost that I realized he wasn't real and he disappeared. Now that you have confirmed what I both saw and heard now in the daylight, I know this time I wasn't dreaming."

"Saw AND heard?" said Jess.

"Yeah, I first heard some splashing just there," said Nicole as she pointed at about two 'o clock, "and then I heard a shriek—for just a brief moment before it was muffled under the water. I then tied the helm and walked over with a torch and sure and plain, there she was—long blond hair, blue eyes—the whole package. When she dove beneath the water, she flipped her fins and she was gone. I was certain I was high on sleep deprivation."

After scanning the ocean from the wake to the horizon, Jess turned around and leaned on the quarter deck railing shaking his head, "The most beautiful creature I ever saw—and I would have thought they had sea shells—you know?"

"That is a modern-day morality invention," said Nicole laughing and motioning for Jess to take the helm.

Jess nervously took the helm as he glanced over at the _Baslatmak_ which was still shadowing the _Euterpe_ about a half mile distant. Nicole assured him she would closely monitor his actions so that they would stay out of their grasp. Standing with both hands on the helm, Jess was surprised to be able to feel the pulse of the ship so well and how she responded to both the wind and each individual swell. It was a very empowering feeling and he smiled inwardly with satisfaction at the thought of controlling such a massive ship. However, the haunting vision of the mermaid forced herself to the top of his thoughts and he again marveled at the creature's beauty, "You say they are dangerous?"

Nicole had been at the helm all night and while she took a seat she sighed and continued with fatigue, "It's all myth you know but the old sailors say their beauty was a just a rouse to get you into their watery bed—I'm guessing that's what happened over on the _Baslatmak_ this morning and sailors who went overboard after a mermaid never surface again. The myth of the mermaid is a curious one. Modern media would have you believe they belong in the peace-loving and cuddly world of fairies and unicorns but they have a dark history. I don't remember any stories about if they were man-eaters or not but why they lure men only—not women is rather strange, and of course why they never return from the depths," Nicole sighed again, getting bored with her own dialogue, "It's all just myth."

Jess laughed slightly, "A myth that is now a reality, or are you suggesting we are now both mad?"

Nicole was too tired to be overly concerned about anything except out-running the _Baslatmak_ and she simply concluded their strange conversation with, "After what you have all told me about this Solar Minimum thing, I suppose anything is possible and that they have really been here all along but we can now just see them."

Nicole stood up and pulled her long blond hair into a ponytail as she surveyed the bright red sky in the east as the sun began cresting the distant horizon, "We finally have our window of opportunity it appears—thank you Poseidon."

Jess looked at Nicole confused as she pointed to the red sky, the gathering clouds and the increasing swell, "We have a storm headed our way and by the size of the surge in the swell, we could be in for a long, wet night—I'm wagering _Baslatmak_ will reef her sails, making them move slower in an effort to spare the ship any hardship. If we keep a healthy spread of sail, we should be able to lose them."

"What about the health of our ship? I've heard stories about old tall ships being de-masted in terrible storms"

Nicole leaned on the rail as the wind began to freshen, "It's a risk we'll have to take ~~—~~ the alternative is just as dark don't you think?"

Jess nodded as Nicole continued, "We have one advantage; I've sailed this ship in a tropical storm with a 17 foot storm surge and with a healthy spread of sail to-boot. She handles beautifully well. By the looks of the _Baslatmak's_ handlers, I'm guessing they have not even done a single circumnavigation."

True to Nicole's prediction, within a few hours the sky became very dark and threatening as the wind steadily increased from a mild eight knots to over thirty. Also true to her prediction, they watched as the _Baslatmak_ dropped her topgallants and reefed most of the other sails as the _Euterpe_ continued with a full spread. After a short time, the ship began to heal over so much that Nicole ordered all sails to be eased slightly but still aggressively maintained their current course toward the eye of the storm as the _Euterpe_ groaned under the heavy strain.

By nightfall, Nicole had been relieved at the helm by Ted. After 26 hours, her strength had entirely left her and she was now sitting on the quarter deck leaning up against the rail under a cold and pelting rain, shouting orders to Ted and the rest of the small crew who were all getting a quick and painful lesson in sailing a tall ship in harsh conditions. The _Baslatmak_ had long since disappeared from the horizon and the only threat now was the very heavy storm that was hitting them in the teeth.

Nicole finally ordered the topgallants to be completely dropped in order to provide some relief to the ship and it responded with a very noticeable decrease in creeks and groans. Everyone was on deck and following Nicole's minute-by-minute orders and all were completely soaked to the bone and shivering in the stiff wind. Every few minutes a large wave would crash over the deck so powerfully that everyone except Matt tied a lifeline around their waists and attached it to the ship so that they could be easily retrieved if they happened to be washed overboard. Shay came close several times as he was thrown across the deck into the starboard railing each time spraining and nearly breaking an ankle or leg. Despite blood flowing down his legs and pooling on the deck, he maintained his post at the foremast manning the three jibs.

After several long hours, the seas eased somewhat by degrees and the _Euterpe_ settled into an easier cruise as she rose and fell over the 18 foot swells. Compared to the last six hours, the crew felt as if they were on a pleasure cruise. Ted gave the helm to Matt as he helped Nicole get to her feet and below decks to a dry hammock as Gus prepared a warm meal of veal and cornbread. The worst of the storm seemed to be past and Matt was given strict instructions to sail due southeast until Nicole could come get a sextant reading when the clouds cleared.

By morning, Matt was found leaning up against the quarterdeck rail as he had figured out how to tie the helm in a fixed course and he would adjust the knot every few minutes as the winds and current demanded a course correction. Nicole came up on deck limping and through the partial sun, she checked their course and current positioning and then looked out at the horizon confused.

"We're still due southeast just like you asked," said Matt anticipating some kind of reprimand.

Nicole's concentration was broken and she turned to Matt shaking her head, "No, I mean, yes I see that we are due southeast but I'm confused at the current. How long have you been having to make a westerly correction?"

Matt returned a blank stare which made Nicole smile, "How long have you been having to turn the wheel that way?" she said pointing west.

Matt smiled, "Oh—about the last hour I guess. I didn't need to adjust at all before that."

Nicole untied the helm trying to get a better feel for the current, "Nor should you have—and still shouldn't. There is a very strong and unexpected current pushing us east that shouldn't be here."

She tied the helm again and walked over and took out a chart to check their current location. She calculated everything three times and each time she placed their location at just past five degrees latitude or about 100 nautical miles off the west coast of Panama. Having sailed the area before, she knew there shouldn't have been a current pushing them toward land, all currents here normally circled around the Galapagos Islands and then south toward Cape Horn.

Nicole returned to the helm and changed their course from southeast sharply to northeast, "A current pushing east right here can only mean one thing."

Matt jumped up and sat on the stern railing, wobbling back and forth trying to find his balance, "And what is that?"

"The Pacific has found the Atlantic," said Nicole staring at the eastern horizon.

As they approached the ruins of the once great Panama City still smoldering under great piles of twisted metal and mountains of ash, they could see a very wide channel heading inland over the isthmus. The current was very strong and Nicole called for all hands to reduce sail and drop anchor before they were swept into the channel and quite possibly run aground. The _Euterpe_ came to rest a mile off the coast in 35 feet of water and everyone stood on deck surveying the wreckage of Panama and the mysterious new channel as Matt climbed up to the crosstrees to get a better look. Not a single soul was seen on the beach or anywhere along the coast and much like every other coast they had passed, the water was black and heavy with ash accompanied by a rancid smell.

After a few minutes Ted determined that the mysterious channel they were looking at was actually what was left of the Panama Canal. The original canal was completed in 1914, long before fly ash was used in concrete but in 2015, a new and much larger canal was completed to accommodate larger ships that were too large to fit into the old canal. Looking at the gaping channel cut through the isthmus it was obvious that the new canal was made from concrete containing fly ash and the Minimum totally obliterated it. Mother Nature then did the rest by cutting out a canyon a mile wide as the Atlantic and Pacific rushed together destroying everything in between.

It was Nicole's original plan to sail round Cape Horn or perhaps the Strait of Magellan if the way appeared clear enough for passage but if they could sail through the new strait; it would save them nearly two weeks travel time. The question in Nicole's mind was if the new strait was deep enough for a ship of their size. The _Euterpe_ drew under 30 feet but without any modern sounding equipment on board, Nicole wasn't sure how they could ever navigate it successfully unless they took manual soundings the way they did in the 19th century, which was painfully slow not to mention riddled with error.

Having no other option, Nicole went below and returned with a yellow cloth and a long rope. She tied it to a spare steel halyard and threw it overboard. The rope quickly uncoiled and flew over the rail and then rested at the bottom. Looking around at the crew she looked for someone who was about six foot tall and called Ted to come retrieve the rope.

"You're six foot aren't you?"

"Six foot one to be exact," responded Ted.

"Close enough. I need to mark this line into fathoms," she said as she instructed Ted to pull the line in with his arms fully outstretched and after every arm-to-arm span she tied a scrap of yellow cloth marking the intervals.

"So a fathom is six feet?" asked Ted watching Nicole working on the line.

"Six feet and a few odd inches to be accurate, but this will be close enough. We just need to make sure we never sound less than five fathoms," replied Nicole as she pulled the halyard onto the deck, "Right now we are at exactly six fathoms, which is plenty for the _Euterpe_."

Taking the last section of rope out of Ted's hands, their eyes met and for a moment between them there was no ship, no world crisis, no Minimum just Nicole's steel blue eyes that looked up at Ted. Nicole looked away as Ted squeezed her hand and she looked up again a second time and smiled.

Seeing the brief flicker of romance between Ted and Nicole made everyone mentally stop and remember a world where pleasantries were possible and fear and death were a faraway horror. Nicole took the last section of rope out of Ted's hands and looked back at the crew who were all watching her wondering if she was seriously considering sailing—quite literally—into uncharted waters.

"We'll be very careful and proceed with minimal sail, sounding every ship length. If we run into trouble we can drop anchor and turn her around. The canyon is certainly wide enough," said Nicole defensively, "Otherwise we will spend the next two to three weeks sailing round the Horn. I don't think we have enough food for that."

Everyone nodded and stood waiting for orders. Nicole handed the sounding line to Jess and instructed him to take a sounding every ship length, "Pick out a landmark that is even with the bow and take a sounding, then when the stern passes the same landmark, sound again. Yell out the mark so all can hear and I will yell it back to you so that everyone knows what depth we are."

Everyone nodded and Nicole ordered for the main and topsails to be set and the anchor raised. With a moderate breeze, they slowly moved into the new strait that Magellan was hoping to find over 500 years ago now made possible because of the Minimum. Once inside the strait, both sides were black with wreckage and ash but where that ended, the jungle rose up thick and beautiful. Still no Hmman life could be seen and it was deathly quiet only interrupted every two and half minutes by Jess calling out, "Seven fathoms!" and Nicole would echo back, "Seven fathoms Father!"

In addition to the depth, Nicole was also worried about debris in the water and possibly half sunken ships in the way and as the sun began to set she advised that they drop anchor and wait for daylight. Everyone agreed and Matt suggested that they still have a watch since the bank on either side of the ship was less than a half mile—certainly within swimming distance for someone desperate for food.

Matt's suggestion was very unpopular since everyone was so spent but they all agreed and Jess volunteered to take the first watch. They all went below decks to find hammocks but after a few minutes, Gus returned on deck with a box of tacks.

"I found an 18th century alarm system so you can sleep and be alerted to any intruders," said Gus as he dumped out the large box of tacks on the deck next to all the railings, "If anyone comes over that rail they will be very hard pressed to not cry out."

Jess smiled gratefully as he got comfortable leaning up against the mainmast and closed his eyes. It wasn't long before Matt shook him and told him to go below decks as he took over the watch. As Jess climbed down the companionway he wondered if Matt knew about the tacks on the deck since he was barefoot but concluded it probably didn't matter since it had been a quiet night so far and he was sure Matt wouldn't sleep anyway.

Matt took a walk down the center of the ship from bow to stern as he usually did at the beginning of his watch and then settled on the stool behind the helm looking up at the star filled sky. The moon was nearly half providing adequate light to see shadows on deck and out of the corner of his eye he saw a shape coming from behind him over the rail.

He jumped to his feet and rushed over to the quarterdeck railing where he saw not only the shape but also saw that there were three shapes, climbing over the rail ready to step on the deck. Reaching the rail, Matt took two solid steps right on the bed of tacks and yelled out in surprise. His yell surprised the intruders even more and one fell backwards over the side as Matt picked up the other two by their collars and since he didn't have a weapon, he instinctively clubbed their heads together and threw them over the side. He then fell backwards on the deck to inspect his feet.

"What the hell!" he said quietly as he pulled several dozen tacks out of both of his feet. He rubbed his hand over the bottom of his feet feeling for any tack he might have missed and then sat quietly listening for the three intruders. Everything was quiet and after a few minutes, he made his way back to the stool and remained alert and cautious until the eastern sky began to lighten. In the early light, he could see his bloody footprints leading from the rail to the stool. He got up to inspect what he had stepped on just as Gus was coming up on deck.

"Where did all this come from?" asked Matt.

Gus looked at Matt's bare feet and then noticed the bloody footprints and started to laugh, "I'm guessing Jess didn't tell you about our alarm system. Looks like it worked," he said as he laughed louder and then sympathetically said, "So sorry Matt. So did you walk over to take a leak?"

"No, we had intruders!" replied Matt irritated.

"Would that be them?" said Gus pointing to two bodies washed up on the bank.

Matt squinted to see what Gus was talking about and there on the bank were two men obviously washed up on shore from the stiff current, "I guess. They certainly weren't there last evening but I didn't kill anyone I just knocked their heads together and threw them overboard."

Gus laughed again, "It's rather difficult to swim when you're unconscious, don't you know?"

# Chapter 23

Navigating the new strait that cut through Panama was painfully slow since the crew of the _Euterpe_ had to take soundings every 100 feet to ensure they did not run aground. Traveling at 3 knots, Nicole estimated that they would clear the strait in less than 20 hours of sailing, barring any unforeseen issues; however, since they could not sail at night, it would take just over two days to reach the Atlantic.

Early into the first dog watch, Jess called out, "Five fathoms!" and two minutes later, "Four fathoms—'er less!"

Nicole ordered for all sails to be furled in an attempt to slow the ship's progress but before the _Euterpe_ could coast to a stop a very loud scrape shook the ship and after a long and painful 10 seconds of screeching the _Euterpe_ came to a stop.

Nicole burst down the companionway to inspect the hull and after a few minutes she returned relieved that the ship was not taking on any water—yet, but the longer the ship's full weight was riding on its belly it could rupture at any time. When Nicole came back on deck, Matt was already in the dinghy rowing away from the ship to starboard with the sounding weight and taking measurements and calling them out as everyone listened and hoped.

"Four fathoms, four and a half, three," and then two fathoms as Matt rowed near the shore.

Gus shook his head feeling a little hopeless and walked over to the port rail watching as Matt made his way to the opposite side of the channel and called out even fewer fathoms. It appeared that they had sailed into the deepest part of the channel but it was still too shallow for the _Euterpe_ to clear. The wind freshened and shifted to northeast, blowing with it a heavy cloud of dust off a newly created cliff one point off port. The feeling was very hopeless and all eyes naturally turned to Nicole as she sat on the stool behind the helm.

"We came up on the shallow pretty hard; you'll notice we are heeling over slightly which means we are almost completely resting on the bottom of the ship. It would take a miracle to get us off," said Nicole sighing in frustration.

Ted was one of the few persons who was still optimistic and he walked forward to the bow and asked Nicole, "Certainly this has happened before, what did they do when ships ran aground 200 years ago?"

Nicole shrugged slightly, "Besides abandoning the ship they could sometimes pull her off using a very long cable connected to something very solid on shore, or another ship and with the help of the anchor windlass they could sometimes pull the ship free—but before you get any ideas, it took a dozen strong men to turn the windlass and if the cables slipped or broke it ripped men apart—and not to rain on anyone's parade but even though we are not taking on water at the moment, once we pull her off, we may sink right here after the hull is relieved of the pressure."

Just as everyone's spirit was sinking lower than the ship's belly, Matt came over the side with his usual playful candor and singing _Heart of Oak_ —an old sailor's ballad written in 1759, "Come cheer up my lads, it's to glory we steer, to add something more to this wonderful year!"

Gus and Nicole were the only ones who recognized the ballad and while Nicole sneered, Gus began to laugh, "Sir Matthew, you are always our strength. Where in the world did you ever learn that old tune?"

Matt smiled completely undaunted by their current circumstance, "My granddad use to sing it a lot. Kinda strange since he wasn't a sailor—at least not that I knew of."

Matt and Gus stumbled through several attempts to get the next verse correct and then Matt recalled and sang out loudly as Gus joined in:

"To honor we call you, as free men, not slaves,   
For who are so free as the sons of the waves.

Heart of oak are our ships,   
Heart of oak are our men.   
We always are ready,   
Steady, boys, steady,   
We'll fight and we'll conquer, again and again."

By the time they finished their makeshift recital, Nicole was mildly amused as was the rest of the crew mostly because the voice quality was so poor but it did have the desired effect of raising everyone's spirits and cast a glimmer of hope on a hopeless situation.

"So why is the water level sinking?" asked Matt looking at Nicole suspecting she knew everything about the ocean.

"Why do you think it's sinking?" replied Nicole as she turned to look at the shore line a few hundred yards away.

Gus took out a pair of binoculars and studied the coastline and after few minutes he enthusiastically said, "It's low tide!"

Nicole walked over to the map desk behind the helm and pulled out a small leather-bound book and began tHmmbing through its well-oiled pages. She stopped on a particular page and then looked at her wrist watch, "It definitely is a receding tide at the moment in this longitude and the lowest tide won't be upon us for another hour, which will place even more pressure on the ship's belly."

She turned several more pages and then announced that at high tide, there is a difference of four feet in this area of the world, which will probably be enough to float them off the bottom once high tide returned. The question was, could the ship withstand the pressure until then?

"Until when?" asked Shay.

Nicole turned a few more pages and then sat the book on the desk, "Midnight—seven hours from now."

Matt, still in very high spirits suggested that they try to make the ship lighter by throwing overboard everything they didn't need. Gus and Nicole agreed this was a good idea and they started with the museum on the middle deck with tables, cabinets, glass enclosures and even hoisted four old cannons up through the cargo hold doors and threw them into the sea.

They then went through each remaining deck discarding everything that didn't have to do with their marginal comfort and survival. The weight reduction wasn't visibly noticeable to the ship's position but Nicole estimated that they had thrown 11 tons overboard, enough to ease the pressure on the ship's tender belly—hopefully enough to make a difference.

With a realistic hope in the air, the temperament of everyone was lighter and even cheerful as they ate and sat around on deck enjoying the evening sun in the tropics. In the east, a lazy moon was rising and due to the large amounts of smoke still in the high atmosphere from the Minimum, the full moon appeared blood red as it rose above the jungles of Panama.

Jess sat observing the strange lunar phenomenon and remembered a passage from the book of Revelations and quoted it out loud, " _And I beheld when he had opened the sixth seal, and, lo, there was a great earthquake; and the sun became black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon became as blood_."

"That's pretty dark Jess. If you're trying to lighten the mood it's not working very well," said Matthew still being his light-hearted self. "Are you suggesting this is the end of the world?"

Jess smiled and shrugged, "No one knows, certainly not me, but if this is the sign St. John wrote about it's the greatest news the world could hope for—it means Jesus is on his way back. The problem with scriptural references is they were all written during a time and place that no one can relate with today and the symbolism is lost on us. I mean, what does 'sackcloth of hair' mean? I'm guessing St. John is suggesting that the sun would not shine, which certainly happened for a week or so right after the Minimum due to all the smoke in the atmosphere. Now as it begins to dissipate, the moon does look like it has become as blood—but, to assume I have guessed right about something so important—now that is foolishness."

Jess stopped and considered the state of the world since the Minimum and realized that perhaps now more than ever since the Bible was written it more closely resembled that day. From what they had seen of all the cities they passed from Montana to the coast and all the coastal towns they saw including Panama City, they were desolate and nearly everything modern was destroyed. And everything that fueled the modern world from gunpowder to gasoline was also destroyed. Mankind would have to do the best he could with his two hands again and whatever else nature provided.

Rather than despair, Jess realized that while the world was physically devastated, it was about to enter a time of spiritual reawakening and he considered all the ways the modern world dulled man's senses to the spirit and the more peaceable things of the universe. As Jess looked around the deck, coming out of his private dialogue, he noticed all eyes were focused on him anticipating what he was about to say next and his heart enlarged as if he were preaching to a congregation of new converts, "We have a great many things to thank God for. We have all been preserved and brought together not by accidental fate but divine will and I bless you all."

The deck was quiet and in the silence, Jess began singing the Gladsome Light hymn again that he and Gus sang together in the mountains of Montana but then when coming to the conclusion he changed the words from gladsome light to gladsome delight in honor of the great ship _Euterpe_ which had carried them safely and comfortably so far on their voyage to England.

Gus smiled as he watched Jess embrace and magnify his calling to the cloth at long last. He could tell he was at peace with himself and the conflict of vocation that was always under the surface of Jess's character was gone and he stood as a pillar of faith and strength, "Father Jess, we are truly blessed to have you with us—and if there were ever a time we needed a miracle it is now."

Gus pointed to the west and on the evening horizon was a set of sails beating down upon them. Matt pulled out a souvenir he took from the museum which was a 18th century brass looking glass and as he extended it, he inspected the ship in the distance and determined that it was indeed the _Baslatmak_ with a full spread of sail, "They must have seen us enter the strait and have been allowing us to be the navigator, assuming all the risk."

"And now that we are grounded, they will swoop in for the kill in pure Toprak fashion," said Ted taking the glass from Matt and inspecting the _Baslatmak_.

High tide would not set in for another four and a half hours and Nicole estimated that the _Baslatmak_ would be upon them in less than two. Unlike modern warfare where attacks were quick and nearly instantaneous, there was now time to plan and consider their options as the enemy approached. However, for the _Euterpe_ , there seemed to be only one option and that was to abandon ship and take a dinghy to shore. The biggest problem with that plan was that they would then be stranded in a disease-infested jungle since no doubt Toprak would take the _Euterpe_ as a prize once high tide returned.

Gus leaned over the side of the ship and looked down at the black water and watched his reflection ripple on the slow current moving past the hull. The ash in the water made it thick like coagulating blood and being an alchemist at heart, Gus's mind wondered for a few minutes as he contemplated the chemical makeup of the water and how deadly it might be to all the sea life. After all, many dangerous and corrosive compounds were made of a base of sodium like sea water.

Gus stood up and brushed some dirt off the railing into the water and as it touched the surface he saw it solidify and then rapidly sink. Finding it curious, he brushed off several feet of light dust that had collected on deck since being in the channel and like before, it rested on top of the heavy water, solidified and sank.

He scraped up a small handful of dirt off the deck and inspected it. It looked and felt like clay. It was red and very dense, especially for dust. He spat into his hand and mixed the clay into a thick mud but unlike the clay in the water it didn't solidify immediately. Gus determined that the chemical makeup of the water acted like a hardener to the clay.

Gus directed Matt to climb down to the waterline and fetch a cup of water from the channel and just as he saw from the deck, when the clay touched the contaminated water, it solidified. Gus turned the cup upside down and poured the water out on the deck and at the bottom of the cup rolled out stone the size of his tHmmb.

Gus surveyed the deck and even though there was a great deal of clay dust that had blown on board, it wasn't nearly enough.

"Enough for what?" asked Shay.

"When this clay dust touches the water in the channel, it solidifies very rapidly. My thought was to dump enough behind us to block the _Baslatmak_ but it would take a mountain of it," said Gus a little discouraged.

Matt walked over to the tHmmb-sized stone lying on the deck and picked it up and then dropped it, "Wow, it's hot!"

Gus walked over and picked up the stone and it was indeed very hot even though it had been sitting on deck for several minutes. Dropping the stone from hand to hand so that he would not get burned he also considered that it had over quadrupled in size compared to the amount of clay dust he dumped in the cup.

Gus was about to begin doling out orders but Matt was already 30 seconds ahead of him and had already gone down the side of the ship into the dinghy. He rowed 100 yards behind the ship and began taking soundings. In the low tide, the deepest sounding was only five fathoms or about 30 feet. He rowed back and after sharing his findings, Nicole estimated that the _Baslatmak_ drew at least 10 feet more than the _Euterpe_ since it was larger. Confused, she responded, "Why—what did you have in mind?"

Gus did a quick calculation in his mind and determined that the _Baslatmak_ would most-likely clear the channel where they were now stuck when high tide returned so therefore, they would have to make the depth shallower by at least a half fathom. Estimating again Gus determined that since the clay quadrupled when it cured in the water, they would need about four square yards of clay.

Ted, Shay, Jess and Matt lowered the large pinnace into the water and towed it behind the dinghy rowing toward the clay cliff on the opposite side of the channel. Once they came up alongside they climbed into the pinnace and began digging into the cliff with oars, filling the pinnace with clay up to the gunwale. The pinnace quickly became very heavy and sat dangerously low in the water. They now needed to tow it at least 100 yards behind the _Euterpe_ and then sink it.

Towing the pinnace was very slow and laborious work but after a little over an hour, they were in position and they sat waiting for the _Baslatmak_ to arrive. They didn't have to wait long since Nicole's prediction was very accurate and within two hours of its appearance it was upon them.

Matt turned to look for Gus's signal to dump the pinnace but the darkness of the night was too far advanced and he could no longer see him at the stern rail. He could just barely make out the _Euterpe_. Matt turned to look forward and the _Baslatmak_ was less than 50 yards away and everyone in the dinghy agreed that it was time. They all tried to swamp the pinnace but it was surprisingly stable and trying to swamp a boat while sitting in another proved to be very difficult since they couldn't get any leverage or stability. The more they tried, the closer they came to swamping the much smaller dinghy they were all sitting in.

As the _Baslatmak_ drew nearer, they could see it had dozens of lit torches on deck which gave it a very nefarious appearance especially being in an insignificant dinghy in front of the massive ship. If it continued toward them they would certainly be crushed under its weight. At first they assumed that their presence in the water was unnoticed by anyone onboard the _Baslatmak_ but they then saw a torch approach the bow and Horsa's deep voice barrel over the side, "It's too late for a surprise _Eurterpe's—_ we see you down there, but how about you stay put and we'll just run you over!"

Everyone in the dinghy was now in a full panic, frantically trying to dump the clay-filled pinnace in the dark as the ghostly white _Baslatmak_ drew within 20 yards on a collision course. Matt looked up and correctly judged that even if they tried to row away now, they probably wouldn't get out of the way fast enough. Angrily he stood up in the dinghy and with an oar tightly clinched in both hands he raised it high above his head and rammed it into the bottom of the pinnace with a very loud moan through clinched teeth.

The oar broke under the great pressure of his thrust but the sharp end continued to pass through the clay and burst through the bottom of the pinnace, spilling its payload into the channel. Unlike the dust Gus experimented with in a teacup, the sheer volume of the clay hitting the toxic water all at once caused it to erupt like lava sending sparks and flame spears into the air. The blast blew the insignificant dinghy over the water a few dozen yards and then it capsized, dumping its Hmman cargo into the black water.

Everyone swam to the surface and tried to wipe the rancid water from their faces. However, treading the thick water was easy and they turned to watch the inferno shower the _Baslatmak_ with fire and brimstone, catching several jib sails on fire. The burning clay released great clouds of steam into the air as it sank under the surface, extinguishing the hot molten. As it sank, it expanded exponentially and through the flicker of flames they could see a sizeable stone raise above the surface of the water and they heard the _Baslatmak_ come to a dead stop as its steel hull crashed into the uncompromising, fire-hardened clay stone that grew out of the bottom of the channel.

Running into a small stone mountain was the last thing the _Baslatmak's_ crew anticipated and as the great ship came to a sudden stop, several men were heard being thrown overboard and splashing into the black abyss of the channel.

Matt, Ted, Jess and Shay abandoned any attempt at looking for the dinghy and they all swam the remaining 60 yards to the _Euterpe_ and found Nicole with a rope ladder to receive them. From the perspective of the deck, they saw the crew of the _Baslatmak_ frantically trying to put out the sail fires and as they approached the quarter deck railing they saw Horsa and Gus exchanging hard glances across the distance of the two ships and stuck in some kind of unspoken dialogue of bitterness and hate.

After a few minutes they saw Horsa raise his hands above his head in a violent display of anger and yelled out having been beaten by Gus once more as he clinched both fists and shook them at Gus and vowed to kill him and yelled, "Guiscard!"

Nicole ordered for a full spread of sail and as the clock ticked off the seconds past 12:32, the _Euterpe_ scrapped off the bottom of the channel and started to make way into the darkness beyond the reach of Horsa and his blood-thirsty crew. As they disappeared into the night, they could hear Horsa cursing them.

In the hazy moonlight, Jess continued to make soundings and even though it was risky to continue through the channel in the darkness, everyone determined that the fate of being caught by Toprak was worse and they gingerly made their way toward the Atlantic, feeling their way as it were at a slow two knots.

As the morning sun rose, they could see the wide open waters of the Atlantic less than five miles away and the black water of the channel faded into purple then grey and then finally blue. After stopping to replenish their water supply from a fresh spring flowing near the old city of Colon, they bent every sail and pointed their bow toward England.

* * *

On the other side of the Atlantic, Veronica found herself in command of a very disciplined but aggressive crew who was running low on water. Water storage and preservation was always a problem on old sailing ships that navigated the world's oceans in any age and even though Toprak ships were equipped with very large reservoirs of water, they had not topped-off their tanks since they were in London four months ago—now in January, they were in desperate need. Dehydration had already claimed three lives on board her ship although they had stopped several times on their trek northward, all port facilities had been destroyed by the Minimum and all the water they were able to find was contaminated by ash and death.

Their progress was slow due to their continual search for water as they skirted the coast of Portugal looking for a river or spring. Due to all the new uncharted obstacles, they had to sail at least a mile off shore and then pick their way back every few miles. There was also the danger of coming in contact with hostile parties both on land and on sea and Veronica took every precaution to ensure the safety of her men and her ship, which required her to adapt Toprak's policy of first aggressor, which was inherently against her nature.

Keeping her men constantly at quarters was also physically and mentally taxing. As she approached the ancient town of Porto, Portugal, she was determined to find both water and some downtime. As they sailed toward the coast, the only building they could see still standing was the ancient fortress of _Castelo do Queijo_ , known in English as the Castle of Cheese since it was built on a rock shaped like a wedge of cheese protruding into the Atlantic. It was also positioned near the mouth of the Douro River and provided the best prospect for fresh water in the area.

The fort was built in the mid-17th century and was in surprisingly good order especially considering the state of everything else in the world. It was evident that some modern-day repairs had been performed on the castle as these areas were now all blackened and destroyed as if someone had poured acid on the castle and eroded all the vulnerable parts. Veronica and her Chief Officer knew that finding a structure this intact would ensure that it was certainly inhabited, and most likely by a hostile group of hungry and desperate people.

All of the rude establishments they visited on their way northward were made up of warring bands of people who violently defended what they had either found and or stole from others. It was unbelievable to Veronica how quickly the fabric of civilized society disappeared and how animalistic Hmmanity had become in a few short months. Darwin's "Survival of the Fittest" was being proved resolute on every shore they visited and it made her somewhat sad that so far, her and her crew proved to be the fittest and almost in every instance when she attempted to show kindness it was returned with aggressive attempts at advantage. There was only one instance where she offered the aggressor's quarter that was received and the four men and one woman who were offered kindness joined her crew, the rest were all reluctantly destroyed.

As Veronica and the crew of the _Ronnie_ approached the medieval castle, Veronica's Chief Officer hailed the castle using a rolled up sheet of paper as makeshift megaphone, "Ahoy fortress on the Douro, we come in peace seeking only fresh water of which we will gladly pay."

There was no response and Jantis hailed the castle again and after a few minutes a man could be seen peering over one of the top walls and then quickly hid. Upon seeing the man, Jantis called out to him, "You there, we seek you no harm. Have you any water to spare?"

When the man determined that he could see no archers on deck, he stood tall and signaled that they did not have water and for the ship to go away. Veronica motioned for Jantis to turn his back on the castle so that they could speak without the man perceiving what they were saying, "Medieval castles were always built near or on top of a spring. I'm fairly certain they have water and while I loathe taking it by force we have little choice."

Jantis nodded in agreement as he secretly sent the word using a sign for all hands to prepare for a siege of the castle. The message was relayed below decks without a sound and 300 men prepared for an assault in silence. As they drew within 50 yards of the outer sea walls, Veronica signaled for the anchor to be dropped and they waited for nightfall.

By 7:30, darkness had set in and every pinnace and dinghy was lowered over the port side of the _Ronnie_ , which was the side furthest from the castle. In complete silence and darkness, the crew made their way to the castle walls. Veronica and Jantis figured that the residents of the castle anticipated an attack but due to the rough seas crashing against the outer walls, they would most-likely be prepared for an attack from the land-side of the castle. However, to be prepared for anything, every soldier was equipped with a shield, which was an odd tool of modern warfare but Toprak specialized in hand-to-hand combat and their shields were made of cold-tempered Kevlar and were bulletproof.

Near the castle walls, ocean waves were over four feet in height which prohibited the boats from getting any nearer than fifteen feet for fear of being dashed against them. From that distance, grappling hooks were thrown to the top of the surprisingly low height of the walls and the first dozen men held on to the ropes and pulled themselves through the rough surf and then scaled the walls to see what was waiting for them on top. From the deck of the ship, Veronica could only make out shadows but she could tell the first wave of men were now standing on the walls so far unmolested. She saw them crouch low as wave after wave of men reached the top and likewise hid themselves along the shadows of the wall.

Jantis ordered the men to make their way into the keep and as they crept down the three stone stairways they were surprised to find no resistance or even a single person to meet them. The castle appeared to be completely empty but the discipline of the battle-hardened Toprak soldiers ensured that they did not become complacent or foolishly over-confident as they groped along in the darkness still anticipating a fight.

Jantis ordered the men to stop their progress and crouching down near a bolted wooden door he could smell rum—lots of rum. After a few minutes he located the smell and with a finger he swiped the stone floor and put it in his mouth. The floor was covered with rum and he immediately ordered his men to fall back to the stairwells just as a torch was seen being thrown out of the open wooden door and landing in the castle keep.

The rum ignited and flames spread quickly across the floor catching several men as they fled but were soon recovered with minimal burns and after a few minutes the rum burned out and the castle was dark once more. Jantis assumed that such a tactic was employed only because there were not many of them and they did not have the weapons to protect themselves. Kicking in the wooden door, Jantis found a group of only a dozen people, most of them women and children huddled together and afraid with dazed countenances.

The room they were hiding in was a rather large storage facility; most-likely the powder store of the ancient fortress and lighting a torch, Jantis could see that they had amassed a very large store of rum and other spirits. Since he didn't speak Portuguese, he tried as best he could to communicate with them and sent word for someone to find an interpreter as he tried to make hand gestures suggesting they wanted water and that they would not harm them if they cooperated.

The castle residents continually denied that they had any water and would place their hands to their throats in an aggressive manner that made Jantis assume they were threatening him. He then remembered the man on the wall as they approached the castle that seemed to speak English, "Where is the man who spoke to us from the wall?"

As they all looked at each other, not comprehending what he said, one of the solders dragged a man into the room and threw him on the floor in front of Jantis. The man scrambled to a sitting position and slid himself as far away from Jantis as he could.

"So you must be the man who spoke to us from the wall. Do you speak English?" asked Jantis.

"Only some," replied the frightened man with a heavy accent.

Jantis drew his sword and placed it point-down in front of him as he rested his arms on the hilt in a show of force, "Well I know you know the word _water_ and I'm fairly certain that you know that is why we are here."

Everyone in the room backed away from Jantis a little further upon seeing his sword, "Our water is poison, we do not drink it," said the man.

Jantis looked around at all the alcohol and realized that they were all drinking it instead of water, which explained the wasted disposition on everyone's face including the children and probably why they did not even attempt to resist the invasion. He sheathed his sword at the same time he sneezed and a young woman in the back of the room began to laugh slightly—a young woman who had certainly had more than enough water for the day.

"Show me your water source," demanded Jantis motioning for the man to rise freely.

They walked down to the dungeon level of the castle where the cistern was located and Jantis took up some water in his hands and after smelling it, took a small taste. It was at first sweet but with a very repugnant after taste that lingered in his mouth making him want to spit. After a few minutes he determined that the water was probably not poisoned, just foul tasting. He ordered for the barrels to be brought and filled and just to be safe, he also ordered fifty cases of rum to be taken to the ship so that they could be mixed with the foul water. Mixing rum with water was a very old sea practice that served a dual purpose. First it masked the foul taste of bilge water and also killed many hazardous microorganisms and sailors over the centuries affectionately called it grog.

While the ship was being loaded, Jantis explained to the residents that they could drink the water so long as they mixed it with rum or some other spirit, three parts water to one part alcohol. Then complying with Veronica's wishes—his commander—when it came to all peaceful parties he offered them passage to England.

Three of the twelve elected to stay in the castle but the other eight came on board and were welcomed by Veronica. They were very surprised to see a woman commanding such a large and powerful army of all men and while the last of the water and rum was brought on board, Veronica found an interpreter and explained to the new crew members the laws of the ship.

Veronica, upon finding herself the Master and Commander of such a large force of hostile and very aggressive men determined that the best way to manage them was by employing the laws and punishments contained in the _Admiralty Black Book_ of the 18th century. Though she did not have a copy with her, she had read it and with her near photographic memory, she was able to piece together a standard set of laws for the _Ronnie_.

"You have been offered protection and passage with us due to your peaceable dispositions," she laughed and then continued, "as well as your stone drunk dispositions. You will all be considered part of the crew which means you will also be held to the same laws and punishments."

She motioned for the interpreter to read from the _Articles of War_ she had created as she stepped over to the taffrail to oversee the last of the water coming aboard.

The interpreter cleared his throat and in a very authoritative voice read, "Any act of theft will be punished with 12 lashings, sleeping on your watch—12 lashings, failing to show adequate officer respect—twelve lashings, refusing to obey orders—12 lashings and three days in the brig..."

Veronica's Articles of War were read to the crew every Sunday on board so that there could be no misunderstanding and so that the complete knowledge of the laws would be for the benefit and protection of all. On board a ship, every sailor has a specific duty and the willful or ignorant neglecting of such endangered all on board. The interpreter completed the Articles with the punishment for mutiny, "Any willful act of insubordination, refusal to perform one's duty or refusal to acknowledge Lady Veronica as the Master and Commander of this vessel shall be hung from the yardarm until dead."

After the interpreter finished, the mood among the new arrival was extremely sober but considering their varying degrees of drunkenness, Veronica thought that was a good thing and they raised anchor on the noon tide and headed for the open Atlantic.

* * *

Matt stood at the helm, being the only one on deck during the first dog watch which spanned the hours between four and six o'clock in the evening, watching the compass and meticulously making sure he was continually on course—the course Nicole had dictated. The rest of the crew was below eating dinner and since there was little danger to be found in the open sea, it was now common for the person of the watch to be alone. Matt was getting the hang of handling the ship, how she responded to a freshening breeze and groaned with shifting currents so that his time at the helm was more relaxed and even enjoyable. The sun was about two hands breadth from the horizon and as he checked the ship's time he noticed a white dot about one point off starboard, a small blip rising above the sea in the evening light.

He leaned his elbows on the helm to hold it in place as he took out his looking glass and inspected the strange dot on the horizon. It appeared to be a solo cloud in an otherwise cloudless sky, but as they drew closer it grew larger and Matt could tell it was a set of sails.

He reached over and rang the ship's bell and within a few minutes, Nicole came up on deck accompanied by Ted to see what the alarm was. Matt handed Nicole his glass and pointed in the direction of the ship, "Set of sail about one and a half points."

Nicole studied the ship through the glass for a few minutes and then handed the glass to Ted, "Yep, it's another ship all right. Who would have thought in this world right now that we would see any?"

Ted nodded in agreement and put the glass back up to his eye trying to identify the ship, "Well, it's a white hulled ship. I only know of one organization with those."

"The _Baslatmak_!" said Nicole, "How did they get so far ahead of us? They would have had to sail round the Horn."

Ted handed the glass back to Matt and leaned up against the quarter deck rail, "Toprak was and probably still is a very powerful and very wealthy organization. Gus seems to think that they had nearly 200 ships of sail at one point. How many they have now is of course anyone's guess but it appears they have at least two—the _Baslatmak_ behind us and most likely the one in front of us is Hengist, Horsa's brother."

"And we're the meat between two slices of bread," said Shay coming up on deck.

Matt shook his head disagreeing, "I wouldn't be so sure about that, we did after all place a pretty big rock in his path. High tide or low, I don't think he will be able to get around it. He will have to go around the Cape don't you think Nicole?"

Nicole nodded and took the glass and looked again at the white Toprak ship, "They are turning to intercept us. They were on a northerly course but now they are headed straight for us. They have obviously seen our sails as well."

"What are we going to do?" asked Shay.

Nicole sighed, "Well, not much. They are coming at us downwind which gives them the complete advantage of the engagement. The only thing we could do is turn and run before them and hope we are faster—which we know we are not. Besides, we don't have enough supplies to get us twice across the Atlantic. We'll barely make it once."

Matt sat thinking about how they could possibly prevail in such a vulnerable situation and considered that since they had not encountered Hengist yet, there was a chance that he did not know their numbers. Perhaps they could make it appear that they had many more on board than they did and maybe negotiate better terms rather than complete annihilation.

It wasn't a good plan but it was all they had so Ted called everyone on deck which wasn't all that impressive—six persons. Nicole remembered that as part of the museum they stored some old naval uniforms down in the bilge that were in too poor condition to display so she went below decks and returned with several dozen jackets, trousers and hats.

"This won't fool them once they are close but it just might deter them from getting too close," said Nicole placing a jacket over an oar she pulled from the dinghy.

They quickly dressed whatever fixtures on deck that could pass as a man standing or sitting and Matt and Ted put on a jacket so that the uniforms would blend with the rest of the plain clothes crew. As a show of potential force, Nicole had all the gun ports opened and the few guns they had, she ran out—not that they could fire but any show of strength was a point in their favor.

Nicole pulled her long blond hair onto the top of her head and put on an old officer's hat, hiding her last piece of vulnerability and waited for Toprak to arrive.

As the sun was touching the water, the Toprak ship was less than 500 yards away and near enough for long nines if guns could still fire. As the live and pretend crew of the _Euterpe_ watched, the Toprak ship came within one hundred yards and in the quickly fading light of the day, it launched a blinding wave of fire arrows at the _Euterpe_ , catching all of her sails and rigging alight and sending her crew below decks.

The _Euterpe_ was an iron ship which meant that she would not be consumed and sunk by fire but she would be rendered completely crippled with no sails or rigging—which was Toprak's design. Within a few moments, they could hear boarders above them on deck speaking in Russian, Turkish and several other languages they didn't readily recognize putting out the sail fires and throwing everything burning into the sea. They then could hear the boarders coming down the companionway and searching all the compartments. Several times Gus had to restrain Matt from taking on the entire crew by himself and Matt felt like a coward for hiding instead of fighting. Gus assured him there would be a time to fight, but only when they could shift the odds in their favor by waiting to be found and attacking in a confined area, one-on-one. Matt, remembering the needless loss of the General in Montana nodded.

They all sat and listened to the Toprak soldier's footsteps draw nearer and on Gus's signal; they jumped out from behind the second deck ladder and attacked the three soldiers nearest them. Matt's sword ~~~~ was deadly and after slicing up three men, he was quickly overcome by a dozen or more who threw him to the ground and bound his hands and feet and then dragged him up on deck. The other crew members of the _Euterpe_ were ordered on deck at the point of a sword and the three dead soldiers were carried up and thrown overboard in a very non-emotional, matter-of-fact manner.

Standing on the smoke-filled deck amid smoldering heaps of sail, Ted turned to look at Nicole and watched her stand bravely and defiantly with all the dignity of Queen Mary, waiting for her execution. Feeling his gaze, she turned and kissed him on the lips, with more emotion that he expected, as if it were a last farewell as they all waited to be executed in brutal Toprak fashion.

The crew of the _Euterpe_ were all ordered to stand in a line against the port rail when they heard the commander of the boarding crew yell out to all the soldiers through the smoke, "ATTENTION THERE, LADY VERONICA ON DECK!"

It wild surprise, Matt and the rest of the crew of the _Euterpe_ turned their heads in the direction of the call and in the last light of the day they heard commanding footsteps approaching them.

Matt watched in great anticipation as he saw an elegantly dressed woman with dark hair appear out of the smoke in a long, flowing blood-red dress with a black belt connected to a long sword with a golden hilt. It was quickly becoming difficult to see clearly in the fading daylight and a Toprak officer brought a torch to Veronica's side just as Matt realized it was indeed Veronica, Gus's summer intern.

Veronica stood waiting for her eyes to adjust to the changing light as Matt admired her powerful presence amidst the fire of the torch, the clearing smoke and her dangerous elegance. So much had transpired since June in Washington when they nervously exchanged their first greetings in Gus's office. Seeing Veronica in such firm and undeniable command of a Toprak army made him question if she was now his enemy. He remembered his brief conversation with her through the Rain Locker back on the General's ranch __ several months ago when she told him she loved him, but that seemed like a lifetime ago and Matt interpreted Veronica's absent stare waiting for her eyes to get accustomed to the dull light for callousness.

Just how Veronica got from Kensington Palace to the command of a Toprak ship was very concerning. If Matt had learned anything in the past few months, it was that the world and everyone in it were unpredictable and he quickly began to convince himself that Veronica was his enemy and that he didn't really know her after all. He took a step backward in his foggy thoughts, forgetting his feet were still tied and fell over on his back just as Veronica recognized the five people onboard and yelled, "Matthew!"

She ran over to him, dropping her power and rank like slipping out of her dress and fell on top of him, kissing him as she cried. Matt could do nothing but lie there with his hands bound, once again feeling stupid at his inability to respond to Veronica's affection.

"I'm guessing they know each other?" whispered Nicole to Ted, somewhat disgusted.

Ted shook his head in confusion and then laughed, "They do, but I never dreamed they knew each other like that."

After all the pleasantries were exchanged, Veronica ordered the Toprak crew to refit the _Euterpe_ with extra sails onboard the _Ronnie_ and __ then invited the crew of the _Euterpe_ to board the luxurious _Ronnie_. The _Ronnie_ was only two years old and the officer cabins were equipped with all the luxuries of a cruise ship including warm showers and laundry facilities. While the _Euterpe_ crew cleaned themselves up, Veronica ordered their clothes to be laundered and a lavish meal prepared to welcome and honor her dear friends.

A gang plank was placed between the two ships and as Gus stepped on the deck of the _Ronnie_ , he smiled at Veronica like a proud parent, seeing his child succeed. Veronica placed her hand on his shoulder and they looked into each other's eyes, sharing a silent conversation that could have taken hours to complete if words were used. After a few minutes, Gus smiled and then nodded.

Matthew couldn't remember the last time he had bathed and after a clean shave he felt years younger and pounds lighter. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he walked out of the washroom into Veronica's cabin which was the largest and most luxurious cabin onboard, taking up the entire stern of the ship.

Veronica was lying on the bed and upon hearing Matt emerge she rolled over and smiled, so unbelievably happy to be with him again. As Matt struggled to pull a comb through his hair, Veronica noticed the scar across his chest, "Matthew, what happened?"

Matt could tell Veronica was looking at his gunshot wound he received in the stadium parking lot while trying to be a Good Samaritan, "Oh that? Old football wound."

"Football? It looks like you have been stabbed. When did they start playing football with knives?" asked Veronica getting up off the bed and lovingly running her fingers along the long scar.

"Actually, it was after a game in the stadium parking lot when I tried to rescue some poor girl being beaten by some jerk twice her age. It's a painful reminder that no good deed goes unpunished." Matt threw the comb on the bed and pulled Veronica close to him.

Veronica slowly looked up at Matt with tears in her eyes and for a few minutes she couldn't speak. Matt wiped her tears and gently stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, "It's okay—it was a long time ago."

Veronica looked up with questioning eyes and trembling lips, holding back a wall of emotion, "That was you?"

Matt said nothing for a few seconds and just looked down at Veronica placing together the meaning of what she had just said and once the circle had been completed in his mind he broke their embrace and held her by the shoulders and looked her in the eye, "That was you!?"

Veronica bit her lip and nodded as a tear rolled down her cheek. Matt pulled her close again and held her tightly and stroked her long brown hair as Veronica spoke with her lips on his chest, "Don't you ever think your good deeds are meaningless or unrewarded. I'm certain that if not for you I would have died that day."

The memory of that day began flashing through Veronica's mind and she recounted all the events leading up the stadium initiation and in light of everything she knew now about Toprak, it all made sense.

Matt sat Veronica on the bed and looked at her incredulously, "Who was he and why was he beating the hell out of you?"

"Looking back now he was my handler and I decided at the stadium that I didn't want to be initiated."

"Initiated—initiated into what?"

Veronica sighed, "The Toprak student chapter at U.C. Berkley."

"TOPRAK! What was Toprak doing at U.C. Berkley all those years ago?"

Veronica was surprised at Matt's angry response and she continued somewhat timidly, "I was sponsored on campus during my freshman year by my roommate. I went to several meetings and I really liked what I heard. They talked about training political science majors like me to become a new kind of lobbyist focused on the constitution and in reducing Hmman suffering."

Matthew was exhausted and he lay back on the bed folding his arms behind his head as he thought for a moment, "That doesn't sound like the Toprak we know today. How did you go from singing the Star Spangled Banner to being nearly kicked to death at the stadium?" He paused again, placing the events of Veronica's past together and then continued more frustrated and confused, "And then how did you end up sailing one of their ships for hell's sake?"

Knowing now that Veronica had a past with Toprak dating back at least four years, long before he or Gus was even aware of an organization called Toprak concerned him. Could it be that Veronica was really still voluntarily employed by Toprak and her assignment in Gus's office was all part of some Toprak global plan? Matt's heart skipped and his breath become short, "What if she were actually a Toprak harbinger?"

Matt jumped off the bed in alarm and stared at Veronica for the first time as someone, or something that could destroy him. He instinctively raised his hands making two tight fists to protect himself, expecting any moment for Veronica to respond to a pentacode now that she had been discovered.

Veronica was still lying on the bed and she narrowed her eyes in confusion as she looked at Matt assume a strong defensive position, "What are you doing?"

Matt didn't respond. His fists were still raised and his eyes open wide as he waited for Veronica to demonize and attack him. The silence between them grew more intense with every passing second. They both continued to look at each other, neither knowing what to say or do. Then after a several long minutes, Veronica sat up laughing nervously, "Matthew!"

Veronica's sudden movement made Matt jump backwards in mortal alarm and he yelled, "Whoa!" almost losing the towel around his waist.

When Veronica didn't turn into the devil, Matt slowly lowered his fists but still kept a safe distance from the woman he loved.

Veronica was still confused and was quickly becoming afraid of Matt. She shook her head, trying to lighten the mood between them by trying to laugh, "What are you doing?"

Matt was still speechless and didn't move, still looking intently at her.

She finally began to realize what was going through Matt's obviously very fatigued mind and she let out a sigh of both relief and frustration as she rolled her eyes, "I'm not a Toprak harbinger you idiot! Although they would have probably loved to have made me into one—but being that I'm of Saxon blood I don't think that is possible, as I understand it. You have to have a pretty impressionable and weak mind."

Matthew first sighed in relief and then began to laugh as he realized how ridiculous he was being, "I suppose you're right, being weak minded certainly is not one of your faults."

"And what are my faults that you seem to have cataloged so well?" asked Veronica a little irritated now.

He walked back over to the bed where Veronica was still sitting and smiled, "The only one I can think of is your terribly bad luck."

"Luck is a slave of perception Matt. Thanks to you I escaped that day at the stadium. However I have since learned they trailed me continually up until we flew to England a few months ago. I had the good fortune of being able to convince a Toprak Captain that he was a fool to follow Hengist's orders in Algiers and we sailed away to freedom."

Veronica got up off the bed and placed her hands on Matt's chest, "I'm not one of them. I am one of you. Besides, if I were going to kill you I would have already done it—I command 300 men," she said grabbing the hair on his chest.

Matt yelled out and pushed Veronica away so hard that she fell back on the bed as she laughed, "You're afraid of me I think. Ha ha—you are!"

Matt climbed on the bed and straddled Veronica, holding her firmly to the bed so that she couldn't move as he held her arms above her head. He looked into her steel eyes, first looking for any traces of evil but was quickly lost and drowning in her deep blue pools that lovingly looked up at him. He slowly began to lower his head toward her, his lips drawing nearer to hers when Veronica quickly made up the distance between them and placed her soft lips on his.

Matthew rolled over on the bed and held her in his arms as she laid her head on his bare chest and it wasn't long before Matt was sound asleep, being overcome with the plush comfort of the bed and the peace of the moment he had dreamed of for months. As Matt and Veronica slept, the crew of the _Ronnie_ worked throughout the night refitting the _Euterpe_ and by morning it was ready to make way.

Matt was awakened by the morning sun that was dancing off the Atlantic and reflecting through the large stern windows and could smell coffee brewing. He was surprised at how much he missed simple comforts and the once very common pleasures of civilized society. Sleeping in a clean, soft bed and the smell of coffee in the morning was almost a complete sensory overload. Coming up on deck, he watched and admired Veronica as she commanded the Toprak crew preparing to set sail and he smiled as she spoke sternly to a crewman who had apparently taken too long to do something and he couldn't help but remember the old Veronica in Gus's office, sweet and very polite.

He walked up behind her, placed his arms around her waist and whispered in her ear, "Ever since you told me you loved me in that rainstorm in Montana I have been tormented and I vowed that the next time I saw you I would not be the coward I was and that I would love you as passionately as I fight."

Veronica turned around, still in his embrace and smiled, "It sounds like I'm in big trouble."

Matt laughed, "I think I'm the one who is in trouble, you command 300 of the most battled-hardened men I've ever seen and they all obey and adore you."

# Chapter 24

After 24 hours and another high tide, Horsa finally got the _Baslatmak_ floating again and turned around so that they could make their way back to the Pacific and toward Cape Horn. The boulder that Gus caused to grow out of the bottom of the channel proved to be too large to skirt around or remove leaving Horsa little choice than to sail around the southern tip of South America.

By the time they reached Panama, they were already running low on supplies and a week later as they sailed in Peruvian waters; they had eaten all of their harbingers and were dying of thirst. Horsa scanned the coast daily for any settlement or sign of life so that he and his men could plunder whatever food and water could be found and somewhere along the coast of Peru, a settlement was spotted.

Horsa ordered the ship to remain out of sight during the daylight, staying three miles off the coast so that the ship could not be seen from land. Then as the sun set, they sailed toward the coast taking everyone by surprise in the village as they pillaged all the food they could find, filled their water tanks and then set fire to the village, killing everyone who stood in their way—a process they repeated a dozen more times before they reached the coasts of Brazil where they then turned east across the Atlantic and headed toward the Mediterranean and Tangiers.

Their successful pillaging raids allowed everyone on the _Baslatmak_ to remain relatively healthy. Of course there were the usual accidents on board such as a men falling from the crosstrees to their death, random illnesses and one had gone overboard after a mermaid, or so the few crew members said who watched him voluntarily jump into the open sea.

It was early morning when Horsa's _Baslatmak_ sailed into the small lagoon off the coast of Tangiers near the old Mosque where Hengist had set up temporary Toprak headquarters since his captain and Lady Veronica had abandoned him there just over a month ago. Seeing that he had no transport or short-term hope of getting back to Belarus, Hengist put his soldiers to work, harvesting all the fields that were not destroyed during the Minimum and gathering all the spoils of the country of Morocco into a single place. He also sent out scouting parties into the countryside and by force took all the livestock that could be found such that within 30 days, Hengist had created a military stronghold on top of the Minimum ashes. Consequently, he renamed the city of Tangiers to _Anka_ _Sehir_ , which was Turkish for City of the Phoenix and set himself up as the King.

He repaired the old mosque and though it was a two century old building, it was a Hmmble but comfortable palace. Hengist now spent most of his days running a country rather than planning a war and like most things Hengist tried his hand; he was devastatingly good at it. He granted all Morocco citizens who survived the Minimum land and by the command of the King, they were assigned to grow specific crops and raise only approved livestock. All crops and livestock belonged to the King and each citizen owed a stewardship to His Majesty and in return for an acceptable increase, the citizen was granted a portion of the surplus. Hengist called his form of government a civic cooperation but in reality it was just a varied form of communism with a new face and name.

In a short 30 days, Hengist considered his initial efforts a success and it could be directly traced to the fact that he controlled over 70,000 able-bodied men who were used to living under harsh conditions and following strict orders. While life was still very hard compared to the lifestyle before the Minimum, Hengist did have some comforts, the greatest of which in his mind was the vodka distillery and his small harem.

When Horsa arrived, his brother was holding court in the traditional fashion of medieval kings and Horsa patiently waited his turn to be announced. As he waited outside the great hall, he could hear his brother doling out a punishment upon some obscure peasant who failed to take the necessary precautions to ensure the safety of the King's herd of goats and several had been stolen. The peasant was sentenced to a heavy flogging and even time in the pillory. Horsa laughed when he heard that his brother had even established a pillory amidst his medieval-looking town and as he was recovering from his amusement he heard his name and title announced to the court of his brother.

"General Horsa from the country of the former United States."

Upon hearing the announcement, Hengist rose to his feet and met is brother in the center of the great room and embraced him, "I have not heard from you for at least a month and I feared the worst. Where the hell have you been and why did you not send a harbinger herald?"

Hengist dismissed everyone in the room and after the last court attendant left shut the tall doors. Horsa turned to his brother as they sat in tall-backed wooden chairs that were quite frankly very uncomfortable, "The world has gone to complete and bitter hell Your Majesty and my brother. We, as you know were in the mountains of Montana when the Minimum hit us and while we didn't sustain any casualties we suffered greatly afterwards when half of the army wanted to return to Belarus and the other wanted to stay and pillage the United States. All that would have been just fine but fighting broke out when the limited supplies became a sore issue and I lost somewhere around 30,000 men in a mountain meadow."

Hengist didn't respond but just shook his head in shock as Horsa continued, "Then upon arriving in Vancouver only one ship was seaworthy and I selected the best of the remaining men and destroyed most of the others with a harbinger ignition."

Horsa held up his hand showing his brother the completed inverted five-point star cut into his hand which signaled the last of five dark oaths he had completed since first learning the art of black magic during the Russian wars. Hengist knew what it meant and he shook his head and placed his hand on Horsa's shoulder in a reassuring gesture, "It was inevitable Horsa—but before you resign yourself to despair, consider now the things you can do."

Horsa smiled slightly and then stood up to continue his travelogue, "We have a real enemy in Lord Guiscard I'm afraid. He bested me twice once in the open ocean—which was actually my sailing master's fault—and again in Panama. The canal has been destroyed and there is a new strait that separates North and South America. I had him on the ropes as his ship had run aground in low tide and just as we were about to board him he was able to create a very large stone obstacle of such fantastic size we could not get around it."

Hengist tried to get comfortable in his hard wooden chair, shifting several times and then responded angrily, "Created!?"

Horsa raised his bushy eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders, "Yeah—out of complete thin air too. After the incident we locked glances and I felt a power emanate from him I had not noticed before. That dammed Saxon blood has certainly awakened him. He knows my dark secret and did not back down from my mental intimidations. We shared a few angry thoughts and just between you and me, he controls a power we would be best served not to underestimate."

Horsa sighed, sitting again, "So we made our way around Cape Horn and came directly here without seeing any other ship—oh, and we had to eat all our harbingers. Sorry I didn't call, were you going to bake me something?" said Horsa laughing.

Hengist laughed, "No but I do have something you'll be interested in," as he called for two glasses and a carafe of vodka to be brought.

Horsa hadn't had a drink in over a month. He quickly downed a full glass and then held it out to be filled again. After taking several deep swallows from the fresh glass, he sat back in his chair and sighed, closing his eyes, "Brother, you have the good life."

Hengist shook his head, "I assure you, I have had my share of flogging and foul food—a story that can wait for another time. We have an urgent task to get back to Belarus to inventory and consolidate our resources."

Horsa had leaned back in his chair, enjoying the effects of the vodka with his eyes closed thinking about Afet as he always did when he had an opportunity to relax, then after a few moments he responded, ignoring what Hengist had just said, "I saw Afet in Panama."

"You what?" said Hengist shocked and obviously nervous for reasons Horsa didn't understand but decided not to address.

"She was on board Guiscard's ship of all places."

"How is that possible? I mean, she's..." replied Hengist as he was cut short.

"Yes, yes, her body I'm certain is rotting in a shallow grave in Turkmenistan and this Afet's hair was blond anyway," Horsa paused seeing Nicole again in his mind standing on deck of the _Euterpe_ in the soft evening light and sighed, "Ah but it sure looked and felt like her."

"I'm sorry my brother, that was the damnedest thing I ever saw—how they killed her I mean," said Hengist relieved that it was just a case of mistaken identity.

The two brothers sat in silence for a while drinking, each contemplating their next items of business and at length it was decided that Hengist would take the _Baslatmak_ back to Belarus and leave Horsa in command of their new kingdom city of Anka Sehir. Depending upon the state of things in Belarus, they would either scale back operations and cultivate crops and other supplies or they would continue with their plans to invade Western Europe. While it was true they had a greatly diminished army, the world population was also greatly diminished making things nearly equal to pre Minimum conditions.

They both agreed that the invasion of Europe was paramount since the chaos of the Minimum created a great opportunity to not only take control of countries but the surviving population would welcome an organized government body to bring order and structure to the ashes of society. Their plan was not all that different to the wealthy who bought up companies and real estate after the stock market crash of 1929 while the majority of businessmen were either jumping out windows or shooting themselves.

Toprak focused on Europe since history had repeatedly shown that whoever controlled Europe eventually controlled the world in the long run. This was especially true now since the only functioning government in the world on any meaningful scale was England. The King was still firmly in control without a parliament and he was perhaps the only world leader who began storing food and fuel when he learned about the impending Minimum 10 years ago.

Hengist and Horsa always knew that England would prove to be the iron cross in their way and now it appeared that Veronica and Gus were both by now safely in London; they faced the fact that history was going to repeat itself, which made it even more important to kill Leroy Guiscard and preserve Veronica.

"You should have seen her when she arrived here. Colorfully audacious, calculated and dangerously beautiful," said Hengist thinking about when Veronica arrived on shore as a pleasant smile came to his face.

Opening one eye, Horsa turned his head and looked at his brother, "You—you are in love with her! I know that pathetic look. You can't hold back a smile."

Hengist raised his hands in the air in a helpless gesture, "How could I possibly help myself—and the fact that she kicked me in the balls and stole my ship makes me love her even more," he said laughing. "It's the damnedest thing!"

"You've certainly jumped headlong into it my brother—but I suppose that is only slightly better than stepping in it." Horsa sighed, "I suppose it's fitting. I mean if you are going to have to marry her and all, it makes it a little more tolerable if you actually love the creature—and for that I am happy for you—both. And to that, I toast you and we had best get things underway. As they say, the tide waits for no man, not even you my love-struck King."

The two brothers clinked glasses and drank the last of their vodka. They both walked out to the beach where the _Baslatmak_ was being cleaned from top to bottom and taking on fresh supplies.

Hengist left Horsa with several harbingers and the charge to make sure he did not eat them, "I know you have recently acquired a taste for them," he said slapping his brother on the back. Just as he was about to climb into the waiting pinnace he stopped and turned around remembering one last piece of important business, "Your Professor Moran has been sleeping with the King all these many years. When Lady Veronica was invited to join us, Warin saw him with Veronica and the King. Since then I was able to initiate several heralds through the last remaining harbingers in England and I also learned that the King has collected a sizable group of Saxons. They call themselves _In Spem de Mundo_."

Horsa laughed, "What?"

Hengist shook his head and smiled, " _In Spem de Mundo_ , it means Hope of the World in Latin. They also casually call themselves 'The Hope', so when you hear that term from the harbinger reports you'll know what they are referring to. If your assessment of Lord Guiscard is correct, we may have some formidable opposition."

Horsa nodded and Hengist climbed aboard the pinnace and saluted good-by to his brother as he was rowed toward the _Baslatmak_. His voyage to Belarus was uneventful mostly due to the fact that apart from small fishing boats, Toprak was the only body in the known world that had ships of any considerable size or threat.

* * *

As he reached Toprak's private port near Odesa, Ukraine on the Black Sea, his heart sank as he saw all the port facilities destroyed. As he surveyed the port, he counted over 100 ships sitting on the bottom with their masts protruding out of the water like grave stones. Toprak once had a massive fleet of 170 seventy ships and on the opposite side of the harbor he could only count 17 that appeared to be in varying degrees of seaworthiness.

The port and the surrounding area was not only devastated but also deserted and as the _Baslatmak_ anchored near the harbor's mouth, Hengist sounded the ships bell in an attempt to announce his presence and hopefully call whatever remaining Toprak troops to assemble on the shore. Hengist scanned the coast from horizon to horizon and could not see any movement of man or beast and he ordered the bell to be rung continually for 30 minutes and when the last ring echoed into silence, it failed to arouse any signs of life in the graveyard that was once the very busy Toprak harbor.

Hengist ordered half of the men on the _Baslatmak_ to attend him on his overland journey to Toprak headquarters in Belarus and the remaining 500 were to stay and guard the ship and scour the area for fresh water and anything else that appeared to have value. They were also given strict instructions to kill on sight anyone or anything that approached the ship.

Hengist was rowed to shore through the maze of masts that were protruding through the heavy black water, marking every sunken ship a red entry in his mental balance sheet of 75,000,000. By the time he reached the shore, he had calculated over eleven billion GD in losses just with his fleet alone and not considering the losses he would calculate in Belarus. The only consolation was the fact that the rest of the world had also sustained very heavy losses and in that light, Toprak's world empire had faired actually quite well—at least until Hengist considered England.

Just how prepared the King was for the Minimum was unknown but with Professor Moran in his back pocket, England was certainly the only place on earth that Hengist knew of besides Belarus that had any kind of reserves and a functioning government. As they progressed toward Belarus following what was left of the existing highways and surface streets, they encountered surprisingly numerous people who watched them pass in silence and in several locations they could see small communities forming amidst the ashes and even makeshift churches dotting the landscape. Hengist laughed and shook his head in disgust when he saw the vast numbers of shacks made of whatever materials could be found with wooden crosses placed on top of them, "The last thing these people need is an excuse to be on their knees and worshiping a god that has forsaken the whole damned planet!"

Passing an exceptionally pathetic excuse for a dwelling, let alone a church, Hengist looked inside and under a roof made of cloth, saw a very large man with no shirt, knelling in front of what looked like an altar. He paused for a moment and watched the man praying, finding it so curious how anyone could be so pious in hell. After a few minutes Hengist shook his head and continued his march.

The more he thought about the slowly rising civilization he observed along his march to Belarus, he was more convinced that even in Toprak's weakened condition, he was still stronger than the majority of the world and that the time to strike was now. It was ridiculous to think he could control the entire planet but if he could subdue England he would have the corner on power that he needed to regain his strength. Once England was under his control, moving throughout all of Europe and Asia would be as simple as providing structure and organization and the masses would flock to his global kingdom for safety and survival. America had always provided a unique set of problems for global government schemes and Hengist determined that of all the world, the United States was the worst hit and therefore would take the longest to rebound—giving him time to amass a concentration of power so that the America's could be taken by force instead of coercion.

During the long march north, Hengist fantasized about his vision of world peace without any capitalistic competition, weapons—unchecked, runaway education and God—all the things in his mind that destroyed peace on earth and caused men to hate and destroy one another. In his master plan for Hmmanity, educational privilege would be restricted to a select few and knowledge would be tightly controlled since history had proven that freely distributed knowledge among the masses always resulted in competition, conflict and eventual war.

Reflecting again on the man knelling in the rag church he was convinced more than ever that religion was a very dangerous aspect of society—when there was more than one that is. He thought it ridiculous that men killed each other because their version of a pretend being was different from their neighbor. Hengist wasn't completely opposed to religion, he felt it was a great way to control and manipulate people and religion was a big part of his global plan—a religion he authored and administrated.

He had been taught and raised in a Christian community but during the Russian Wars, he determined that it was a senseless soliloquy to debate the existence of God since in the end it didn't really matter. If God was real and was merciful, any wrong committed in life could probably be overcome and if God wasn't merciful then everyone was dammed in the end anyway. He didn't consider himself an atheist, just a passivist; however, he realized the power and even necessity of religion in society.

Using the 17th century Catholic Church as a blueprint, he had crafted a world religion that would effectively control the ignorant and protect the powerful and privileged classes of society just as Rome had done after the Nicene Creed in Western Europe, Northern Africa and the Americas. As Hengist saw it, freedom was an enemy to peace and America was the root and cause of the world's problems in 2040. Freedom allowed free-thinking which lead to difference and strife in society. He was convinced that ignorance was synonymous with peace and history provided plenty of examples to prove he was right.

Hengist and his small army approached the gates of the old Belarus University in the evening light and saw several dozen bodies hanging by the neck swaying in the breeze from the trees. As they drew nearer, Hengist determined that the corpses were local peasants that had probably attempted to steal food and other supplies and were caught and left hanging as a deterrent to other would be thieves.

By the time Hengist reached Belarus, he had worked himself into a frenzy of urgency and he quickly took an inventory of what had not been destroyed by the Minimum and began making preparations for war on England. Since Toprak headquarters were established in the old Belarus University, many of the facilities were not destroyed and all of Toprak's food reserves and other supplies needed to support several hundred thousand troops were intact. He was also pleased to find that several hundred troops who were stationed at the harbor had made their way back to headquarters to join the local guard and were functioning according to strict Toprak command as they waited for their leader to return.

As Hengist sat in his office receiving the report from his Captain, he poured himself a glass of real vodka from the vast Toprak reserves and placed his feet on his desk and closed his eyes as his Captain continued, "...we have increased our numbers by approximately 2,500, as many have flocked to enlist with us—most no doubt simply wanted food and shelter. However, we have maintained the strict standard of our recruiting notwithstanding. As you no doubt saw on your way in, we have had several raids on the warehouses and have dealt with them as they occurred."

Hengist still had his eyes closed and responded in a tired voice, "Very good Captain, continue."

The Captain took out a sheet of paper and read to Hengist the complete inventory of the Toprak reserves and concluded with, "And we have 3,755 horses, 200,000 head of cattle and of course as I mentioned, only 300 acres of our harvest have been destroyed. As far as troops are concerned, we are 7,300 here, less the 40 I sent to collect the European invasion forces thought to be in Greece."

Hengist still had his feet on his desk and his eyes closed as he responded, "Thank you Captain. Ready your men for dispatch in 48 hours and on your way out when you see Caleb, please send him in to see me," and as the Captain's footsteps disappeared down the stone hallway, he quickly slipped into a deep sleep and dreamed of Veronica sailing one of his ships somewhere in the world.

His short dream was interrupted by his assistant Caleb as he entered the room and Hengist sat up a little delirious and directed him to establish a herald with Horsa and within a few minutes he returned with a harbinger and sat him in front of Hengist whereupon he ordered the herald to initiate, "Baslatmak!"

"Brother, you made it home I see!" Horsa's voice came through the harbinger.

"Yes, yes," Hengist replied very fatigued. "Things are better off here than I feared, however we are down to only 18 ships, but that is perhaps eighteen more than the world has."

"Does that 18 include the one you lent to your girlfriend?" replied Horsa obviously a little drunk as he usually was in the evenings.

Hengist sighed remembering his dream a few minutes ago, "No it doesn't—nor does it include the one that went unaccounted for in America," he replied returning the jab.

Hengist related his plans for an immediate invasion of England by sea and instructed to have his troops ready to move within the week. Europe was of no consequence or prize at the moment but England was growing stronger daily and Hengist determined he would rather face a cub rather than the lion. As they planed the details, Hengist insisted that Horsa leave a thousand troops behind in Anka Sehir to secure their new kingdom—a very important stronghold on the strait of Gibraltar. They both determined that an invasion of England would be best won by sailing right up the Thames to London just as Hengist and Horsa did successfully in the fourth century and they laughed at how history seemed to be insisting that it repeat itself.

With eighteen ships and around 70,000 battle-hardened men, it was certain that England would not be prepared for such an assault and the takeover would be swift, just as it was once before, "Except for..." said Horsa.

There was a pause in the herald and Hengist slapped his harbinger to make sure there was not a problem with the transmission and he then heard Horsa continue, "We're forgetting about Lord Guiscard."

Hengist snickered slightly, "We've dealt with Saxons before."

"If you saw what he did in Panama, you'd be more concerned my brother. It appears he is leveraging the Minimum effects as we have—to an alarming degree," replied Horsa sobering up a bit.

Hengist stood up and walked over to his office windows that looked out on the courtyard and watched his men preparing for war and after several minutes he took a deep sigh, "There's always something whenever we deal with Guiscard and Veronica isn't there—what is it with those two?"

Just then, Caleb reentered the room and was about to speak when Hengist held up his hand silencing him as he continued to speak with Horsa, "We will be in the Channel within a fortnight, I want you to direct all the Fenrir we have in England to descend upon London tonight—and send them all pentacodes. Let them deal with that for a couple of weeks so that by the time they see our ships in the Channel it will be the nine-inch nail in all their coffins."

"As you wish my brother—pentacodes it is, and as for Lady Veronica?"

Hengist groaned in frustration at all the complications of a seemingly simple invasion, "Spare her of course, although I believe I could almost kill her myself. She is still a queen that we need to keep alive—at least for a little while longer. If Lord Guiscard survives the Fenrir attacks, are you fairly certain you can locate him when we are in the Channel?"

"Yes—fairly certain," said Horsa somewhat reluctantly, "I will also make sure I know the whereabouts of all the remaining harbingers in London and prepare for a possible ignition."

"Sober up and I'll see you in a week," said Hengist as he concluded the herald and turned to his assistant Caleb, "What is it?"

"My lord—'er your Majesty," replied Caleb correcting himself on Hengist's title change, "I broke into Professor Moran's laboratory as you requested and it appears he never returned from leave two months ago." Caleb paused, reluctant to continue his report.

Hengist returned to his desk chair and then turned to look at Caleb when he perceived he was stalling, "And?"

Caleb walked in front of Hengist's desk and bowed his head in anticipation of a reprimand of some kind, "His office and lab are empty Your Majesty, everything is gone and it appears that it was all burned in the alleyway behind the officer's mess."

Hengist rubbed his painful eyes, needled by stress, "Thank you Caleb that will be all."

Hengist initiated a new herald to Horsa through the harbinger who was still sitting quietly in his office and after a few minutes Horsa could be heard, sounding a little more drunk, "Leave a message!"

"I need you to put a name on one of those infernal Fenrir."

After a short pause Horsa replied a little confused, "Oh—whose?"

"Make sure a Fenrir finds our friend Moran, he burned all his work here before leaving and no doubt has been feeding all his research to _In Spem_."

"As you wish, I will send it now," replied Horsa sounding very tired and irritated that he was being required to be coherent at such a late hour.

Horsa sent a personalized pentacode to a Fenrir that was currently running toward London from a concealed wood outside Rainham and upon receiving it the Fenrir stopped and shook its head grunting. It then snorted twice with its nose to the air and changed its direction running towards Moran's location at the Seven Stars Pub.

* * *

Inside the pub, Moran was sitting in front of the Rain Locker searching for General Clancy. Ever since the General's voice was heard during the last session, he was intrigued that someone who was dead could use the Locker to communicate to the living. Over the past few months, Moran came to the Seven Stars late at night to conduct his research and sharpened his skills with the Rain Locker. He would open the doors for 30 minute intervals and then shut them and journal his experiences, looking for a pathway amidst his painful sessions. The effect on the weather caused the skies to cloud up every night and rain sporadically, which for the English wasn't anything out of the ordinary especially for winter on the island.

It was just over two in the morning and Moran opened the Locker doors one last time and focused his energy on the Skanicum—whatever it was—and after a few minutes a cloud burst broke over the high mountains of Montana. Moran looked into the Locker and could see the General sitting by a small fire and pulling a blanket around him as he looked up at the rain that suddenly began to fall.

For a while, Moran didn't know what to do or even say so he just watched and observed the General, trying to determine if he were a ghost or some kind of reincarnation. He then saw a man approach the fire with a kettle and placed it in the hot coals and took a seat on the ground next to the General. The other man looked like an Indian and Moran remembered seeing him during the session with Lord Guiscard and just as Moran was about to speak, the Indian looked around sensing he was being watched.

Hank looked directly at Moran through the Rain Locker and narrowed his eyes trying to focus in the darkness and once he could make out what was looking at him, he stood up slowly and walked backwards.

Moran was surprised that he could be seen and now that his presence was known he tried to speak but Hank could not hear him. He also noticed that he was seeing Hank as if through the eyes of another person who was obviously very tall and looked down at Hank. The person's movements were somewhat animalistic, continually looking around and smelling the air.

After a few minutes, Hank stepped toward the fire when he could see that he was not in danger of being clubbed again by the Skanicum standing in front of him and for several minutes they said nothing and just looked at each other.

Looking through the Rain Locker, Moran could see that the Skanicum had taken a seat by the fire next to the General and Moran concluded that Hank was completely unaware of the General's presence. After the Senators left the country, Hank had led a band of warriors against the remaining Toprak soldiers who had escaped the harbinger ignition and destroyed them all and then returned to the Clancy ranch. As Moran looked around he could see that the Skanicum was sitting in front of Hank's small hut in the north pasture where Hank spent most of his time and even though it was raining, he didn't seem at all affected by it and continued to sit at the fire.

The General smiled warmly at Hank and pulled his blanket tighter to his body as a cold north wind blew down the mountainside into the pasture as the Skanicum looked at the General and then at Hank.

Without looking up Hank spoke to the Skanicum, "I feel him here, which is why I stay. You see him perhaps?"

Moran tried desperately to communicate with Hank but all attempts failed. He was only able to observe and see things through the eyes of a Skanicum and at last, he sat back in front of the Locker and watched. Hank was isolated and the longer he sat with him, his loneliness reached through the Locker and Moran sighed as Hank's deep sense of loss entered his breast. The bare winter landscape reflected Hank's sadness and the once rich, green pasture was now white with snow, and all vegetation, flat and dead.

It was a scene that made him shiver—not because of the coldness of the weather but because of the emptiness of Hank's heart as he sat in the dark just as it began to snow even harder.

Moran noticed that the communication began to fail, but after all, it was a Rain Locker, not a snow locker and he didn't know what effect the snow had on its abilities. After a few minutes, he shut the doors and put on his coat. Picking up the candle that was burning beside the Locker he walked downstairs and placed it on an empty table and blew it out. In the darkness of the pub, he felt his way toward the front door and reached down expecting to feel the brass door knob but he felt nothing. Reaching further he could not even feel the door and as his eyes grew accustomed to the faint light he saw that the entire door was missing. Through the partially shrouded moonlight, he saw that it had been destroyed and he then stumbled on a piece of it on the floor which made him fall forwards on to his hands and knees.

Getting back to his feet he froze as he heard a familiar low, guttural growl. A growl he knew could only belong to a Fenrir. The growl was approaching him from somewhere in the darkness of the pub and Moran knew it would be senseless to run since a Fenrir could outrun a man. His only hope was to get back up the narrow stairway which was much too small for a Fenrir to pass through. In the brief few seconds he had before running to the stairs, he thought about the General and how he had to tell Lord Guiscard that his friend was still alive or at least still present on some level.

In a surreal flurry of thought and motion, Moran felt himself running toward the stairway in between the tables and chairs of the dark pub and then running headlong into the thick, oily fur of the waiting Fenrir who had anticipated and intercepted his flight. Before he could think he felt its rancid moist breath over his head and the sound of crushing bones as he lost consciousness.

# Chapter 25

When Professor Moran did not return from the Seven Stars Pub, the King, fearing the worst, sent Matthew to go and search for him. The center of London was a very unsafe place due to the civil unrest brought about by the Minimum and it was rumored that a group of citizens had banded together and called themselves the Black Death since they had turned cannibal in order to survive.

Matthew assembled a small army of 50, hand selected from the King's guard and they were allowed to raid the royal museums in the Tower of London and arm themselves with swords, axes, maces, scythes, mauls and halberds. They also clothed themselves with full suits of armor and chain mail since their potential enemies were also armed with medieval weapons and a simple bulletproof vest would be inadequate to protect them.

Walking out of the Tower fully armed, Matthew stopped and looked up at the darkening clouds. He felt strangely satisfied and at the peace he felt under the menacing sky. For perhaps the first time in his life, he felt that what he was doing was replete with purpose and it pulsated through every vein in his body. He remembered when the King's emissaries visited him at the hotel in Oxford and how he longed to be a part of something so dignified, honorable and impregnated with mortal importance.

He removed his helmet and held it under his arm just as a raven landed on his shoulder and crowed out angrily to the cold morning air that sent a shiver through his armor and permeated into his soul with iron resolve. He raised his hundred pound axe to the dark clouds and yelled out as the raven joined in, rallying his men and they stood at attention awaiting his orders.

The raven remained on Matthew's shoulder as he turned and addressed his men, his presence powerfully descending upon them, "His Majesty the King has commanded us to go in search for his dear friend into the center of the city. We will most certainly be attacked and we will out of necessity have to slay our fellow Englishmen who have turned cannibal. Quarter shall be given to all who request it."

Matthew stepped up on a nearby bench and looked at each man before continuing, "Take a good hard look at each man in this company. If you march with us today beyond these walls every man shall be responsible for every other man as himself. Contrary to Cain of old, each of us _is_ our brother's keeper and we all leave, fight, protect and return as brothers. I give this company the name of Ravenguard and I give you my sacred honor that I will fight and protect every man in this company. I am prepared to give my life for the mission and every mission his Majesty requires of us. If any man cannot covenant the same and pledge his sacred honor, he is commanded to withdraw. If you are with us, raise your sword as a sign of your covenant to me as your Captain and to each other as brothers."

Matthew had scarcely finished speaking when the company erupted into a loud shout of, "RAVENGUARD—HAIL CAPTAIN MATTHEW!" as the raven cried out and lightning cracked above their heads.

The men of Ravenguard interpreted the lightning bolt as a sign from God that they had divine favor and every man marched out of the Tower walls behind Matthew toward the center of London boldly and fearlessly.

Late in the day, they arrived at the Seven Stars without incident, in fact they never saw a single soul during their march and as they entered the Pub, Matthew discovered Professor Moran's remains near the narrow staircase. It was immediately obvious that he had been partially eaten and Matthew assumed that it was the work of the Black Death cannibals. He knelt down and wrapped up what was left in a blanket, carefully carried it out of the Pub and placed it in one of several supply wagons that supported the company.

After securing the Pub, Matthew returned to his men who were standing guard in the narrow street. As he was about to order their march back to the Tower of London, he saw a shadow move on the grounds of the Royal Court ruins. Placing his helmet on his head, he ordered his men to be alert just as a mob materialized out of seemingly nowhere and rushed upon him and his men.

The advancing mob acted more like animals than Hmman beings. They were all ill-clad, filthy and possessed as they ran, howling and growling so much that didn't remotely sound Hmman. They reminded Matthew of harbingers and as they drew closer, he was certain that they were. Their eyes were blood red and they were clearly out of their minds with pure evil coursing through their souls. Many of them were completely naked with missing limbs, grotesque lacerations and burns all over their bodies. It was now obvious why they did not see any one on their match into the city; the harbingers known as the Black Death had devoured everyone they met—or so Matt thought. They were at least a thousand strong and Matthew knew the Ravenguard would be outnumbered by more than ten-to-one.

Although Matt was unaware, every Toprak harbinger went into pentacode during the Minimum and there were thousands of them now running wild throughout the world, just like all the harbingers in London. Matthew raised his arm above his head in an attempt to stretch it out, preparing for battle. He felt the dull ache from the scar left on his arm from Abdul, the first harbinger he had killed.

"I am so tired of killing these damned things," he said quietly as the first wave of harbingers reached his Ravenguard and he yelled out to his men, "NO QUARTER!"

The bare and unprotected skin of the harbingers against the cold steel of the Ravenguard was immediately disastrous as they were dismantled in the street, blood flowing and pooling into the cracks of the cobblestones. The harbingers attempted to bite through the heavy steel armor but with no effect, however being demonically crazed they continued to bite and claw, their teeth breaking out of their mouths and their nails tearing from their bloody fingers.

With his sword in one hand and his axe in the other, Matthew walked through the horde of harbingers swinging from right to left like he did in the forest in Montana, except instead of severing trees in half, he cut through dozens of harbingers with a single swing, their mangled bodies flying in all directions.

After several minutes, Matt determined he would be more effective by sheathing his sword and using both hands on his axe. As he walked forward swinging as he went, he noticed a mound of harbingers and then realized that one of his men had been overcome and was screaming under the pile. He approached the pile and began picking up harbingers and throwing them 20 feet into the air until he uncovered the man who was luckily still alive. Most of his armor had been removed and he had several bites on his arms and legs. Matt stood over him dismembering the seemingly endless advance of harbingers as he signaled for the man's body to be dragged to the rearward.

The harbinger slaughter was beyond belief and as the dead lie on the ground, their bodies returned to their normal pre-harbinger state and it was then that the true cost of Hmman life was evident. Matthew had to remind himself that it was Toprak that had killed these people, not Ravenguard.

Six hours had passed since the beginning of the battle and at last, the harbinger press was diminishing and some of the harbingers were retreating into the fading light of the day. Matthew pulled his axe from the back of a rather large harbinger and stood surveying the state of his men and began counting. He feared greatly that he had lost many in such a long and terrible battle but he began to laugh with joy as he reached 47, 48, 49 and 50, counting the man who had fallen but was still alive and sitting up against the wall of the Pub.

It was a miracle that so few could stand against so many, which confirmed even more in everyone's mind that the Ravenguard was endowed with divine favor. Matthew walked over to the man who had fallen and knelt down on one knee inspecting his wounds. The bites on his arms were mostly trivial but he had three very deep bites on his legs and he was already shivering and sweating.

"I know your torment brother, but you will survive this. I know a priest who can heal you," said Matt brushing the man's hair from his face.

Matt ordered the wounded man to be placed in a wagon and he started to order the company to prepare to move out, but before he completed the order he stopped mid-sentence. Something was moving in the darkness of the narrow street beyond the light of the torches. It was much too calculated to be a harbinger. As he strained to see into the black street it also seem to be too large. He drew his sword and with a torch walked into the darkness toward the shape. Matt had heard Veronica describe in detail the Fenrir she had killed but he was completely unprepared for what he saw as the torch slowly illuminated the massive shape of a wolf that was over twice the size of an adult grizzly.

Matt had once hunted grizzly in Montana but that was with a rifle not a sword and compared to the Fenrir that was in front of him, the bear he hunted in Montana were only cubs. The light of the torch shown in its red eyes that were intensely fixed upon him and as it opened its mouth to growl, drool dripped from its five-inch fangs onto the ground.

Matt watched the drool splatter on the ground at his feet and noticed the Fenrir's paws were over 10 inches in diameter with three-inch blood-stained claws. He slowly stepped backwards trying to place a comfortable distance between himself and certain death as he heard some of his men approaching. As he stared the Fenrir in the eyes, he was astounded that Veronica was able to have bested one all on her own. Not only was the size of the beast daunting but it was terrifyingly evil and hell-bent on killing anything that stood before it. Matt was determined to do at least as well as Veronica and he ordered his men to stand down, insisting that the kill was his alone.

His men were already very loyal to him and they stood tall to the vow they had made earlier that day at the Tower as they retorted, "But Sir!"

"STAND DOWN! Take your revenge if I am in its gut!" yelled Matthew taking another step backwards.

Just then, the Fenrir lunged forward with its fangs bared, growling loudly and rattling the windows of the Pub. Matt fell to the ground and lifted the point of his sword as the Fenrir passed over him. It penetrated just below the massive creature's neck and sliced the Fenrir all the way down to its bowls. The beast groaned in pain but quickly turned around and came back for Matt as he was racing to get to his feet. The Fenrir was bleeding profusely but the wound had no effect on its strength and only increased its resolve.

As Matthew got to his feet, the Fenrir was already on him and bit down hard on his arm, bending his metal armor as he yelled out in pain. As he struggled to break free, he thrust his sword into the Fenrir's chest but it seemed to have no effect. With one arm in the Fenrirs mouth Matthew used his other arm to repeatedly stab into the beast, searching for its heart but with every attempt, it only became more agitated. Using all his might, he made another deep thrust up to the hilt of his sword and due to the great pressure on the blade; it broke off in the Fenrir's chest.

Still undaunted, the Fenrir continued to gnaw on Matt's arm as its teeth began to work their way through his armor and Matt groaned in pain. He was now without a weapon and his back was against the wall of the Pub. He could feel his own blood draining from his arm into his glove as he lost all sensation of pain in it. _How in the hell did Veronica manage to kill you?_ Matt thought as he looked down and saw the Fenrirs entrails protruding out of its gut and piling on the cobblestone street along with a river of blood. Matt then remembered that Veronica drove a sword through its mouth and into its brain and he concluded that that might be the only way to kill one since it was obvious that any other wound was not mortal to a Fenrir.

Matt reached down to his boot and retrieved a seven inch blade. He quickly determined that he would never have the momentum or strength to drive the knife through its skull so he held the blade high above his head and yelled out driving it deep into the Fenrir's eyeball. A shower of blood washed over his face and as he closed his eyes he felt the beast's grasp on his arm release and heard it groan as it fell to the ground dead.

Exhausted, Matt fell forward, landing on the Fenrir and he laid there for several minutes until his men came to help him to his feet. Getting up and with several torches now illuminating the scene of the battle, Matt was again taken aback at the size of the animal and the amount of blood and other organs that were lying outside its massive body. No one could believe that any animal could still be alive let alone still fight with its innards spread across the street.

"Now we know that the only way to kill a Fenrir is through the head," said Matt as he walked over and picked up his axe and with one slice, severed its head from its body, "Bag the head and leave the body," he called out as he struggled to remove the armor that had been locked in the Fenrir's mouth.

"Let me help you with that," said one of his men as he pulled out a large knife and began prying the rivets apart, revealing his crushed arm.

The man apologized for the pain he was about to inflict as he squeezed Matt's arm, feeling for broken bones, "Sorry 'bout that mate, but the bones all appear to be connected to the right place—but you'll be black and blue for a fortnight."

The man looked up at the dark sky and into the falling snow and added, "Good thing it's snowing—it will help with the swelling."

"What are you some kind of doctor?" asked Matt as he thanked him.

"Field medic in His Majesty's service—I've set enough broken bones to know a fracture when I see one, 'er feel one," replied the man.

Within 20 minutes, Matthew's Ravenguard was making their way back to the Tower of London and as they approached they could see the light of the torches on the walls of the ancient fort burning as a beacon, waiting for the company to return—a tradition that would be repeated every time the Ravenguard was away. The Tower of London was in the process of being transformed from a museum and tourist attraction into England's military headquarters as it had been for hundreds of years previous.

It was just after midnight and as the large gates were opened to receive the company Matthew immediately called for a coffin to be built so that he could respectfully place the remains of Professor Moran to rest so that the ravens didn't pick on his bones through the night.

The Ravenguard was extremely fatigued not only from their long battle with the harbingers who were stuck in pentacode but none of the guard had been trained to fight in a full suit of armor or hand-to-hand combat—an art that they were quickly learning out of necessity.

Matt was surprised how much had changed at the Tower since their daylong absence. Not only had the buildings within the Tower been completely emptied and refitted with furniture but there were also hundreds of supporting personnel. As the Ravenguard passed through the gates, a triage unit was waiting for them. Immediately they began segmenting the company according to their various wounds and they were quickly dispatched to the hospital wing for nursing and dressing. The only man with any serious wounds was attended to first and within the hour, he was responding well to his treatment and was expected to make a full recovery.

As Matthew made his way toward his quarters in the Waterloo Barracks at the north end of the Tower complex, he noticed a procession of wagons being provisioned with everything imaginable for an extended time in the field. Reaching the barracks, he was met by Gus and when Matthew saw him he was delighted and they embraced.

"I must say you look absolutely terrible, I'm a little afraid to ask what you found out there," exclaimed Gus.

Walking into Matthew's Captain Quarters, he shook his head responding to Gus's question, "You wouldn't believe it."

Matt began removing his armor ans Gus quickly volunteered to help him since it was obvious that putting on and taking off a suit of armor was at least a two man job. With is armor removed, Matthew sat down and started removing his stockings. He was surprised to see that they were blood soaked from the wound on his arm that had drained through his armor and into his boots.

"Are you sure you are well?" asked Gus alarmed at his blood-soaked clothing.

Matt signed, "I believe I am fine, no worse than after a playoff game," he said trying to lighten the mood.

Gus looked at Matt without saying anything more but raised his eyebrows, which was Gus's way of signaling someone to begin a detailed debriefing and Matt shook his head again in disbelief at the day he had had

Matthew decided to start at the beginning and after another sigh started, "We didn't see another soul all the way to the Seven Stars but we did find the Professor, dead of course."

"Do you know how?"

"Not at first but I figured it out later—I'll get to that."

Gus raised his hand signaling Matthew that he had the right of way in the conversation and sat back in his chair and listened.

"We were about to return to the Tower, having accomplished our mission so quickly when we were attacked by at least 1,000 harbingers in pentacode."

"A 1,000—no kidding?!"

"You wouldn't have believed it Gus. You saw Abdul on the Ellipse in Washington—magnify that by a thousand. We marched into hell today and we were met with all the devil's angels who had been commanded to destroy every last one of us. Luckily we were armed and protected and most escaped with minor flesh wounds—only one with anything serious but I hear he is recovering well."

Matt sat back in his chair and extended his legs, "I had no idea there were so many harbingers in the world let alone just London. It was unbelievable Gus—no words can describe what we saw. I never thought I would get accustom to inflicting death but I did today. I personally killed over 200."

Both Matt and Gus sat quietly and after a few minutes Matt asked, "Do you believe in divine intervention Gus?"

Gus had his hands pressed against his lips and he turned to look at Matt with a raised eyebrow, again signaling him to continue.

"Before we left this morning a raven lighted upon my shoulder and remained there until we disembarked and it then accompanied with us the whole day—it's now there on the sill."

Gus turned to look out the window and he could see a raven sitting on the sill outside Matt's window reflected in the light from the room.

"I named my company the Ravenguard almost as a funny gesture since the raven landing on my shoulder was so Hmmorous but when I pronounced the name, the raven cried out and lightning broke over our heads. But what is most bizarre is we returned today with all 50 men, none seriously hurt but the one I mentioned. If you had seen what we faced, it is a," Matt paused trying to find the right word and continued, " _miracle_! A bloody miracle we returned with the same number we left with. Most of my men believe we have divine favor—I suppose that's not a bad thing since I never saw so many fight with so much courage. The harbingers may have fought like a pack of wolves, but we were lions—every last man."

Gus sat up to face Matt as if what he was about to say was of extreme importance, "Back in the Senate I would have said I didn't know if such a thing as the divine existed but I'm quickly becoming a believer. It would appear that you have had three signs from heaven today, the lightning, your amazing victory over so many and your new friend," he said pointing to the raven that was still outside Matt's window. "It's odd that you would mention a pack of wolves..."

"Oh, and we also found a Fenrir," said Matt interrupting.

"Only one?" asked Gus.

Matthew looked at Gus a little confused at his question, "One was certainly plenty," as he raised his arm showing Gus.

"I'm sure it was more than enough but there seems to be no end of dark news these days. The Fenrir have been released in mass upon England and hundreds have died in their jaws already."

Matt was a little too tired to be alarmed and he slowly turned to look at Gus, making sure he understood, "Released?"

"Yes," Gus sighed, "according to Professor Moran, the Fenrir are the complements of Toprak. The name has been borrowed of course from ancient Norse mythology and I'm assuming that the Norse legend only spoke of a single Fenrir, not a host—but somehow Hengist and Horsa have been able to breed them, or create them. How is beyond mine and Moran's comprehension—underscoring again just how much more knowledge they have of this post Minimum world we live in."

Matt sat up only to place his elbows on his knees and his chin on his hands, "So like the Skanicum?"

"Hmm. I had not thought of the Fenrir like that but—yes, I suppose you might be right. Both have always been here, we've just not been able to see them." Gus paused, thinking about what Matt had said in greater detail and then continued, "They no doubt are controlling them like they do the harbingers—and like the harbingers; they need to be put down. I came here to tell you that the King's next assignment for your Ravenguard is to go Fenrir hunting into East Anglia."

Matt stood up, stretched and yawned as he spoke, "Luckily they can be killed and we know how to do it." He then turned and started to make his way out of the room.

"Where are you going?" asked Gus looking at the clock on the wall.

"To tell the armory that the Ravenguard will be marching north tomorrow and to fit every man with bows. I don't want to get close enough to a Fenrir to punch out its eyeball ever again."

# Chapter 26

The cold winter sun struggled to break through the smoke-filled skies of London on an early February morning as Veronica stood with a thick down comforter wrapped around her. Staring out her bedroom window onto the frosted lawns of Kensington Palace she thought about Matthew and wondered where he was and when he would be returning. She took a slow, satisfying sip of her vanilla coffee, warming her hands on the cup as the steam raised high above her head in the cold room.

Three weeks ago, Matthew led the Ravenguard into East Anglia hunting Fenrir since it appeared to be the area most infested in the country. Hundreds had been killed by the sudden infestation and the King sent a proclamation advising everyone to remain indoors after sunset and it quickly was assumed by the masses that anyone out after dark was associated with the Fenrir and should be put to death. Try as he might, the King found it very difficult to convince his people otherwise and it was startling to see how quickly the general population's reasoning skills waned and decayed into assumptive and erroneous conclusions. However it was easy to understand why. The world was a different place for those who had survived the Minimum and things that were once confined to tales of fiction were now part of everyday reality.

The Minimum had left the country in ruins except for the older buildings of course and anything that was made of concrete older than 1950. Thankfully, the King—with Moran's help—had the foresight to begin storing food and medical supplies since he first heard about the potential Minimum and England had ample stores to provide for the five million people who survived. The King had instigated a state administered dole where all recipients were required to perform tasks that contributed to society and the general good of the country. Every hand was busy rebuilding, from making clothing to mining and special efforts were made to ensure that the world knowledge of 2040 was not lost.

Without oil, the few operating automobiles had exhausted their fuel tanks and sat rusting on the side of the road and all transportation was made by walking or by horse. However, since livestock was scarce, most citizens walked everywhere they went which created a great demand for shoes. Before the Minimum, people threw away shoes before they wore them out but now, shoes were one of the most prized and coveted commodities in the country. All the dead were stripped of their shoes before they were buried as well as any other useful articles of clothing. Food and clothing were more valuable than gold in fact the entire monetary system of the English commonwealth was non-existent and everything was paid for in-kind.

Veronica took another sip of the warm and smooth repose she held in her hand just as a knock was heard at her door and Corinna entered, "Good morning my Lady. I'm sorry I did not come up sooner to light your fire, very sorry. The Duke of Devonshire had been making a mess of things in the kitchen as usual."

"Oh, it's quite alright. He is not firing anyone is he?" said Veronica as she slid back on her bed tucking her cold toes under her.

"No my Lady, but he did say he would like to see you just as soon as you were able. Something about the funeral I should think."

Veronica quickly dressed and found the Duke waiting for her in his usual place in the library standing in front of the large fireplace. The room was warm and the hazy sun shone through the two story windows. The skies above London were now always smoke-filled due to the necessity of everyone needing a fire to keep their homes warm as well as to cook and due to England's weather patterns; it had already become necessary to prohibit coal burning due to the toxicity of the air.

"Good morning my Lady, how are you my dear?" said the Duke.

Veronica embraced the Duke and as usual, kissed his cheek, "Very well—very well, thank you. Have you any news of Matthew?"

The Duke pulled a tall-backed chair in front of the fireplace and took a seat, "Rode all the way from Shepherd's Bush this morning and I think my feet have frozen to my boots."

He paused pulling off his boots and placed his feet closer to the flames, "No I'm afraid I do not have news of Sir Matthew. Oh, it must be below zero out there! Never have I seen it so cold."

Without solar flares, global temperatures had plummeted more than 30 degrees of normal and the Norwegian Sea was beginning to freeze over. Snow had occasionally been on the ground in London since December and daytime temperatures seldom climbed above 20 degrees.

Corinna entered the room and brought a breakfast tray of hard-boiled eggs, baked tomatoes, toast and tea and left it on the large table that was centered in the room, "Thank you," said Veronica as Corinna bowed slightly and shut the door behind her.

The Duke buttered himself a slice of toast with orange marmalade and quickly ate it all before resuming his business, "The professor's body is to be laid to rest in Dover of all places, which means we have all been asked to travel with his Majesty today and the services will be conducted at the Knights Templar Church tomorrow."

Veronica narrowed her eyes as she tried to remember why that church sounded familiar and then she remembered, "But that's only a ruin. There aren't even any walls just a foundation as I recall."

The Duke raised his eyebrows and shrugged, "Alas, what are we to do with dead man's wishes. Apparently it was his desire according to the King, something about good energy or something or other nonsense. Such as it is, his Majesty has requested that we leave before noon in his company—and he sends his regret over the shortness of the notice."

When Veronica didn't respond, the Duke looked up and saw her gazing out the library window, far away in her thoughts. Assuming she was worried about Matthew he tried to ease her mind and ease her mood, "I'm sure he is just fine my Lady."

Veronica took a few seconds to respond as she slowly shifted her thoughts from where they were to what the Duke had just said and responded chuckling slightly, "Oh, I'm certain he is fine as well. When it comes to Matthew, fighting is one of the few activities I don't worry too much about, at least not any more anyway. I just miss him so. However that was not what has taken control of my thoughts this morning."

"Oh?" replied the Duke as he held up a wet stocking to the fire.

"You were college educated I imagine and everyone in your house?"

The Duke raised an eyebrow wondering where she was now going with such a question, "Yes—and most everyone I associate with is also higher educated. Why do you ask?"

Veronica walked from the window and stood with her back to the fire enjoying its radiating comfort that brought life and pleasure to every muscle that was made tense from the cold, "There are few things in the world that I prize more than what I have learned and what I might still learn. Yesterday I heard about that poor young man from Somerset that was killed for being out at night. People actually believe that if you are out at night you are somehow connected to the Fenrir? It is preposterous! It has only been a few months since the Minimum and already it appears that the population is deteriorating into nonsense and myth. I worry greatly how we will ever be able to maintain world knowledge in such a world as this."

Veronica took a deep sigh and slumped into a chair next to the Duke as he pulled on his beard contemplating Veronica's words and slowly began to nod, "It is a problem of disastrous proportions. I think the biggest problem is people are seeing things nowadays that were once confined to fables and fairytales—and, let's face it, the world no longer responds in the ways it once did. It is very curious how quickly they resort to myth and what we used to call ignorance—but is it really ignorance any longer?"

Veronica shook her head confused, "I don't know—but what I do know is that the knowledge that was once in Professor Moran's mind is lost to us forever. Besides what he knew about the natural sciences, he is the only one who could operate the Rain Locker. It is very concerning, very."

The Duke sat quietly as they both stared into the mesmerizing flames of the fire and after a few minutes he replied, "It is indeed."

After a few more minutes of silence Veronica stood up and started to make her way to the library door, "Well, I had best tell Corinna to ready my carriage and find me something warm to wear so that I am not a frozen corpse when I reach Dover."

Putting on his boots, the Duke grunted as he leaned over, "I have already stirred the pot and sent the hands to the stables to make ready your escort. They were not very happy with me when I told them they were to see you to Kent on this the coldest day in four centuries. Corinna has placed stones in the oven to place in your carriage and there will be several stops along the way for new warm stones."

At half-past eleven, the King arrived with his royal escorts along with Gus, Ted, Shay and Jess who climbed into Veronica's carriage and they made their way to the south of England and to the white cliffs of Dover rising high above the English Channel. The trip would have only taken an hour and a half by car or train but by carriage it was a long 12 hours and at midnight, they were greeted by a very gracious staff at Dover Castle. Rooms had been prepared for all the royal guests and after a light meal; Veronica climbed the long staircase up to her room and found it warm and surprisingly comfortable for an old medieval castle. A fire was burning and as she entered, a room attendant removed a hot bed-warmer from her bed and turned down the bed cover, "Do you require assistance my Lady preparing for bed?"

"No, thank you," replied Veronica as she collapsed on the warm bed and then reconsidered, "Perhaps, maybe just help me with these boots. There are just so many laces and I am nearly ready to pass out from exhaustion. Who knew traveling by carriage was so tiresome."

Before her boots were off, Veronica was asleep and her room attendant placed her boots against the wall and pulled the bed covers over her and re-stoked the fire before leaving.

The morning was overcast and much too cold to snow as the funeral procession made their way toward the Knights Templar Church. Moran's remains had been placed in a polished coffin fitted with brass handles and it was carried by the King, Gus, Ted and Shay as Jess lead the procession onto the plot of ground that was once a church. The 10 inches of Dover snow had been shoveled away revealing a small stub foundation of a once very small medieval church.

A grave had been dug in the narrow nave, where Moran's body was to be laid to rest and Jess conducted the grave service at the request of the King and Veronica. Before the usual rites were pronounced and prayers offered, anyone in attendance was allowed to speak freely of Moran's memory. The King spoke emotionally for several minutes of Moran's brilliance and spiritual gifts and how it was Moran's discovery of the Minimum that led him to prepare his country over 10 years ago. His well-being and everyone in England owed a great deal to Professor Moran and he pronounced that from this day forward, his name would be remembered as St. Moran.

The King paused, and looked up towards heaven and then bowed his head, "Dear God, receive this man's soul but please preserve his knowledge with us. We still desperately need him."

Jess concluded the service beautifully and as he finished his prayer, the clouds parted slightly shining down a single ray of light on the ruins of the church as everyone passed the coffin and placed a small handful of dirt on the lid. As Gus passed the coffin, he felt a great surge of energy, enough to cause him to look around and see if he alone were feeling it. No one appeared to be experiencing what he was and as he placed his hand on the coffin, he was thrown backwards onto his back just as lightning struck and thunder closed the ray of sunlight that had bathed the ruins of the small church.

The Knights Templar Church was the location where King John surrendered the country of England to God and agreed to become a papal vassal in 1213. Even though the decision was very unpopular with the barons of the country, the location had since been known as a place of great surrender. For centuries afterwards, the church was the location of many important royal agreements, prominent marriages and treaties. As Gus laid on his back looking up at the sky, his ears were roaring like a great rushing of wind and he sensed a flood of memories come to the fore of his consciousness, except they weren't his memories. Using the energy of the church, Moran was able to surrender his knowledge to Gus, which explained his desire for being buried at the Templar Church.

Gus was extremely confused as he mentally sorted through the events of the past few minutes and the memories of someone else's life distilling and infusing with his own. Placing his hand to his head as he felt a terrible headache coming on, even so he assured everyone he was fine and that he just needed a rest and perhaps some refreshment.

Shay and Ted helped Gus get to his feet and after a few minutes he could stand on his own and the funeral party made their way back to the castle and the coffin was lowered into the ground. Life after the Minimum was of a necessity much slower paced since everything took longer to accomplish. Traveling was a major hindrance as was preparing food and other previously simple things that were taken for granted like washing machines and electric lights.

At the castle, the funeral party was greeted and offered a warm meal as they casually mingled in the great room around a roaring fire. The King thanked Jess for his services and his thoughtful remarks as he shook his hand which then turned into a one armed embrace. Jess was about to apologize and explain that he was not actually an ordained priest when the King stopped him and shared how Lord Guiscard had told him all about his early desires to be a Priest and how God himself had since called him to the ministry.

"We are most fortunate to have you with us Father," said the King as everyone circling around the fire nodded and raised their goblets in agreement.

Shay walked closer to the fire and placed his goblet on the mantle and then turned to warm his backside and exclaimed, "Oh do I ever miss central heating!" and after a short pause he added, "Among other things."

"You know what I think I miss most of all is a hot bath that was once so easily drawn. I am truly amazed at the things we took for granted. What a life we all lead," sighed the King.

Gus laughed slightly as he considered the modern comforts he missed most, "I actually miss the Senate. Never thought I would say that but life was so bloody narrow."

Veronica, who was sitting in a nearby over-stuffed chair with her legs tucked underneath her dress, smiled and shook her head remembering the simple days of being Senator Guiscard's administrative assistant. Gus saw her response and smiled back at her, "And what is it you miss the most my dear?"

Veronica paused and had to only think for a second, "Oh that's easy—tampons and toothpaste."

Everyone laughed, enjoying the simple pleasures of being in the company of friends and acknowledging how fortunate they were to not only be alive but also well. The initial shock of the Minimum was now a few months old and as shocking as the changes had been, life was also surprisingly easier in many ways. It was much slower-paced which had the effect of causing everyone to be more invested in each other's life and focused on what mattered most.

After a few minutes, the conversation changed direction and focused on the schedule of returning to London when the Captain of the castle guard entered the room and bowed his head in the presence of the King until he was acknowledged. The Captain suggested that he have a private conversation with the King whereupon the King declared that everyone present in the room was a trusted friend and he ordered the Captain to continue.

"Your Majesty, a fleet of ships has been seen in the channel and they appear to be in earnest, on a northerly course."

The King became very sober and gray and after checking the responses on everyone's face in the room, in an effort to make sure he had heard correctly, he turned to the Captain, "How many and whose are they?"

"Number unknown your majesty, nationality and intent also unknown."

The King shook his head, "The intent is rather obvious and I would guess it is not a nation but two men—Hengist and Horsa."

Veronica asked the Captain if the ships were white and when the Captain confirmed, Veronica turned to the King and nodded, "They do sound like Toprak ships."

Everyone walked up to the castle wall overlooking the Channel and just as the Captain had said, there was a small fleet of ships beating their way northward against a moderate breeze. Although the fleet was small by modern standards, it was now perhaps the largest fleet on the planet and more than capable of beating down any county's seaboard defenses.

For a few minutes no one spoke as they all stood in the cold damp air staring at the ominous ships drawing ever closer. England had once been the master of all the oceans commanding the largest and most disciplined navy in the world and even though several battleships had survived the Minimum, there was no energy to power them and they were all sitting rusting in the Thames estuary.

The King was noticeably frustrated and began pacing, "We can't bloody well just watch them come, but we are defenseless until they make a landing."

"At least we know where they will land. They plan to repeat history," said Gus as he leaned on the castle wall staring at the small armada, "they will sail up the Thames and land at East Tilbury just like they did in the fifth century."

Veronica and the King looked at Gus surprised at his knowledge of the Winchester Chronicle unaware that he had read it, "So when did you catch up on your historical reading of a book that has been out of circulation for 600 years?" said Veronica as she pulled her heavy Fenrir-collared cloak up against her neck.

Gus paused and then turned to the King and Veronica puzzled, "I'm—not sure... what am I talking about, I know I have not read it anywhere, but I also can't explain how I know it. Hengist and Horsa, Saxon brothers who sacked England almost single handedly from the Romans." He paused again and then continued, "And they brought with them the Princess Ronnie—heir to the throne and Hengist married her by force, legitimizing his claim."

Gus leaned back on the wall, pleased with his unearned knowledge and then added as his mind wandered through decades of borrowed memories, "What the hell is a Rain Locker?"

The King walked over to Gus and studied him for a few seconds as if we were looking for someone behind Gus's eyes, "How did you come to learn that Lady Veronica was of pure Anglo-Saxon blood?"

Without hesitating Gus replied, "I froze the blood sample from the carpet scrap and then analyzed the crystal formation as I always do."

After Gus spoke he quickly shut his mouth as if he were trying to stop anything else from coming out and then looked back at the King. The King narrowed his eyes and then smiled, "You are in there my dear old friend. How you accomplished it I'll never know but you are truly in there and I must say you have chosen an excellent host for your memories—a most excellent host."

Memories were flooding Gus's mind exponentially by the second and a glazed overwhelmed look came across his face as he weathered the mental storm. After a few minutes, he looked up at the King and said shaking his head, "I am so very sorry your Majesty. I never knew that you also lost your dear wife to the consumption."

"No one knows that except me and Professor Moran—and now everyone here, but you also now know why it was kept from the public."

Gus interrupted, completing the King's sentence, "Because it was her dying wish not to incite public alarm since TB was supposed to be a treatable disease."

The King nodded and said nothing more as the painful memory now flooded his mind as well.

Ted turned from watching the ships and leaned against the wall with his elbows, "Veronica, do you still have a crew for the _Ronnie_?"

"I imagine so—are you suggesting we pit one ship against perhaps dozens? I'm flattered but I am no Lord Nelson I'm afraid," said Veronica as she turned to watch the ships.

"We might have an advantage that will give you more than just the weather gauge," said Ted pointing to Gus, "Right?"

Gus looked at Ted in surprise, "Whatever are you talking about?" then Gus reconsidered for a moment as more of Moran's memories flooded his mind and he changed his response, "Oh—oh yes I do—we do!"

Ted smiled as he continued, "When we first went below deck on the _Euterpe_ and found Nicole, she fired a flint lock at Matthew which only knocked him to the floor but didn't do any real harm."

Veronica looked at Ted in surprise, "I didn't know about that—like I needed harder evidence not to trust her."

Veronica and Nicole seemed to get along well enough but there was something about her that Veronica didn't trust and since this was the first time anyone had heard her express any ill will toward Nicole they just all looked at her in surprise as Ted continued.

"I found it very curious how she was able to get a shot off when all other gun powder was impotent. I learned that she had found an old ball and powder in the museum. At the time I didn't have any ability to test it so I scooped up the little powder that was left and gave it to Professor Moran shortly after we arrived. He was getting close to understanding why it would ignite when he was killed. How close are we Professor?" said Ted to Gus.

Gus thought for a moment, "From what I can recall, it has much to do with the mixture of the oxidizer to the amount of ozone in the air. It might be possible to get a correct mixture but it could take..."

The King cut Gus short, "A few hours is all we have I'm afraid. We have no time to loose; we all must get back to London tonight."

Veronica turned from watching the ships in the Channel and offered one other solution to the crisis, "Perhaps we should recreate a little history of our own and provide an English welcome to Hengist and Horsa, the same welcome Queen Elizabeth gave the Spanish Armada."

No one responded at first, everyone a little confused at her comment but then Ted who had a major in Medieval history replied flippantly, "So you're going to make it rain for two weeks?"

Veronica smiled as she looked at the King and said, "As a matter of fact, I am. Well, at least Gus is."

Gus was now more confused than ever as he tried to sort out his memories from Moran's, trying to determine if Veronica was referring to himself or the Professor. Veronica had already started to make her way down to the castle keep as he called after her, "Do you mean the Professor or me?"

"Didn't you say you wanted to know what a Rain Locker was?" replied Veronica as they all came off the castle wall and began making preparations for an immediate departure back to London.

# Chapter 27

By the time the Ravenguard reached Thetford, they were feeling much more confident in their skills as archers and had also identified the sweet spot to aim for when killing a Fenrir—right into its open mouth. With any other animal this might prove to be problematic but with the Fenrir it was relatively easy since they always came running with their mouths gaping open. However, it was a little daunting to stand poised and steadily taking aim with a 1,200 pound wolf running toward you with fangs and ear-splitting howls.

Like most other towns the Ravenguard entered, the streets of Thetford were deserted and what few buildings remained, they all appeared to be empty, not a soul to be seen. They were usually met and gratefully welcomed by at least a few people in every town but as they made their way across the ashes that were once Thetford, the only living thing they encountered were rats.

Matthew's first conclusion was that harbingers may have descended on the town and he sounded the alarm to be on the look-out just as something in the shadows moved. He drew his axe and approached the darkness of a partially destroyed building and called for a torch to be brought. As he waited for the torch, he could hear something breathing in the room with him and he turned his head several times trying to determine the direction of the noise.

When the torch arrived, he could see a little child shivering and curled up against the wall and as Matt approached it tried to get away but there was nowhere to go since it was already pressed hard against the bricks.

"Hey buddy, it's okay we're the good guys," said Matt endearingly trying to comfort the child who was obviously beyond afraid and tortured by what he had seen. Matt walked closer and was about to kneel down and extended his hand ready to touch the child when it turned to face him, eyes glowing red and bleeding from the mouth as it growled.

Matthew jumped back in alarm, not expecting to find a harbinger—of sorts. It was acting like a harbinger but it had traces of Hmmanness and was afraid—a quality harbingers did not possess. Their fearlessness is what made harbingers so completely deadly. Matthew continued to talk to the child in non-threatening and comforting tones as he drew close once more except this time with a torch in his hand. The light seemed to have just enough calming effect on the child that Matt was able to touch it.

Looking into the child's eyes, he could see that he was about six years old and it was then he noticed that he had a harbinger bite on his right arm, "Oh! I know what you're going through buddy; I've had a bite like that before. Here, let me help you."

Matthew began to pick up the child when it seemed to go into pentacode and began thrashing violently, trying to bite him. Since the child was so young, Matthew didn't have any trouble containing him and he held him tightly so that it couldn't bite him or itself. After a few minutes the child relaxed but was still panting heavily like a dog and Matthew walked out to a supply wagon and placed the boy inside. As he stroked his head, the boy's eyes rolled forward from looking at the back of his head and seeing Matt, he began to cry.

"It's OK—you're safe now. I'll take care of you buddy. I'm the Captain of the Ravenguard," said Matt talking softly and compassionately as he fought back his own emotions at seeing the small boy so afraid. He could only guess what he had experienced. The little boy took a measure of comfort in Matt's words and his touch as Matt wondered how a harbinger could pass in and out of pentacode—something he had never seen before. Usually when a harbinger went into pentacode it was lethal for the harbinger eventually since they never relented until someone killed it.

It was then Matthew considered the bite on the boys arm and he bent down closer to inspect it making sure it was in fact a harbinger bite and after a few minutes he concluded that it certainly was. _But why would a harbinger attack another harbinger_ he thought, just as the boy raised up and tried to bite Matthew's ear, as he went into pentacode again.

Matthew jumped back and then threw the boy back down into the wagon and held him until he settled down again. Like before, the boy's breathing was heavy and Matt tried to calm him further by talking softly as a drip of blood fell from his ear on to the boy's chest.

Matt wiped his ear on his shoulder and called for some rope to be brought so that he could confine the boy until they determined if he could be helped or cured. He knew that Jess was able to help him and it was then he realized what was happening. The wound on the boy's arm had already started to scab over and Matt concluded that the bite had to be at least two days old. Matt previously assumed that a harbinger bite was fatal but he was now sure he was wrong and concluded that a harbinger bite turned you into a harbinger eventually, or at least it did now. That certainly explained why there were so many harbingers in the center of London and why there were no other people, "They had all been turned into harbingers!" said Matt out loud.

As Matt lovingly tied up the small boy and wrapped him in several blankets he ordered for some food to be brought and continued to stroke his head. Every few minutes the boy would convulse and growl and then return to himself again. After the sixth or seventh harbinger interval, Matt had a chilling thought; _the man in his company who was attacked during the harbinger battle in London had been left at the Tower to recuperate. There was a very good chance he was now a full-blown harbinger!_

Matthew immediately ordered twenty men to return to the Tower and assist the scant forces they left there, but he then remembered he left Gus there and he struggled whether to stay and complete the King's mission or return with all his men to the Tower.

"It's only one harbinger Sir," offered one of his men trying to be helpful.

"I suppose you are right, and Lord Guiscard has dealt with them before. Besides, it's been over a week and I'm sure they have already figured out he's a harbinger," replied Matt resigned to the fact that no matter what had happened at the tower, it had already happened. Living in a world of continual communication before the Minimum, made life very stressful now and everyone everywhere had to learn how to wait.

Darkness had now descended which mean it was time again to go hunting, but in reality it was nothing short of war once the Fenrir came out. Matthew ordered for the fires to be lit which were large iron baskets standing six feet high and at least that wide in diameter, piled with wood, enough to burn all night long and as he walked to the fore of the Ravenguard he stood with his men waiting in the flickering light—waiting for the now very familiar sound of the Fenrir approaching.

The forward company was the first defense which usually shot the Fenrir, and either wounded or killed them and the middle company would ensure the kill and behead them, a lesson they learned early on that Fenrir could revive sometimes even when thought to be dead. The rear guard would then skin them and salt the meat and give it to the townspeople. Fenrir meat was not the best tasting but for a public hungry for fresh protein it was very welcome. So plentiful were the Fenrir that almost everyone in a town could expect around 200 pounds of meat each. In any other age, the government would probably have deemed the meat was unfit for Hmman consumption but gone were the days of Federal this-and-that agencies which were mostly designed to protect the financial interests of the wealthy rather than protect the interests and honest well-being of its citizens.

Matt put on his helmet and right on cue, they could hear the faint howling and hateful growls of the Fenrir approaching them like moths to a flame or more appropriately, sharks to seals. But as they drew closer, Matt thought he detected something different—a different sound, and as it grew louder he was sure something was wrong.

The Ravenguard was standing on the borders of the Thetford Forest in a small clearing, staring into the dark unknown and waiting for whatever it was, to come to them. Unsettled looks flew from soldier to soldier as every man looked to the other for reassurance hoping to fill his own cup of courage from the empty eyes of the other.

"STEADY ON! " yelled Matthew in an attempt to strengthen the company, while at the same time strengthening his own resolve. Whatever was approaching, it was like nothing they had faced since leaving London and Matthew turned to survey the landscape just in case they needed to retreat. In the distance, he could finally see movement and he pulled out his looking glass that he took from the _Euterpe_ and __ peered into the forest where the distant trees were being illuminated by the fires.

In between the dark voids that separated the trees Matthew didn't see Fenrir approaching but harbingers. Just as he was about to put away his glass and alert his men he saw Fenrir as well.

"Harbingers _and_ Fenrir, fall back, FALL BACK! " yelled Matt.

There were thousands of each and while Matt was confident they could take on another harbinger army, he wasn't sure his company could withstand an army of both harbingers and Fenrir.

Everyone retreated to a steel building that looked like it had once been a manufacturing facility before the Minimum. It was the only nearby structure within running distance that afforded any protection. The concrete floor of the building was missing but the foundation appeared to still be supporting the walls—mostly, and as they retreated, Matthew carried the boy who was tied up in the back of the wagon.

Once everyone was inside, they secured the doors as best they could but within minutes, the first wave of harbingers had reached them and they made their way into the building like flies through a torn screen, finding entrance through the smallest of holes and the slightest fissures in the walls. Like before in London, the Ravenguard began slicing up the harbinger army with brutal slaughter since most of them were naked and only had their teeth for weapons. The building effectively acted as a sieve, limiting the number of harbingers that could approach them at once. The battle was actually made easier and even systematic as they only came at them in tens and twenties.

While the harbingers were able to gain easy access, the openings in the building were much too small for the Fenrir and they were easily dispatched by shooting them in the mouth as they tried to press through the small openings. Every now and then, a Fenrir would try to ram the outside walls, making large dents but thankfully, none were able to penetrate—except for one that was able to get under a wall.

Since the attack of the harbingers was effectively metered by the building, the Ravenguard rotated between three stations; slaughtering, piling the bodies and resting. Seeing the sheer number of harbingers Matt was convinced that every person in the city had become a harbinger and the young boy in his custody was perhaps the only survivor.

The battle waged on for most of the night until around four in the morning when the harbinger numbers started to noticeably decrease. Matt walked out into the morning twilight assessing the situation. The Fenrir had retreated since they were nocturnal beings and only an occasional a harbinger would approach from the morning shadows, which Matthew was able to destroy with a single swing of his axe. Matthew estimated that they had killed over 3,000 harbingers and he guessed that there were at least a few hundred Fenrir. It was certain that if not for the building they would have all perished in the combined attack.

While he and his men were all right, only suffering from minor wounds, Matt worried about any of the surviving residents in the area and he organized a guard to search the city during the daylight and offer any they found an escort back to London. But after only four hours the guard returned stating that they found no survivors and had killed a few dozen more harbingers.

The Thetford Forest was the largest in the entire East, which probably made sense that it was a Fenrir hotbed and Matthew correctly assumed that it would take an army much larger than the Ravenguard to dispose of them. Until such time a suitable army could be organized, Matthew had his men create warning signs out of whatever debris they could find, using harbinger blood to write with since it was both in great supply and was the only thing resembling paint. The signs were placed around the southern-most end of the forest and all around the city of Thetford to alert travelers to the dangers of both harbinger and Fenrir.

Matthew then ordered the Ravenguard to move out and they left the area north of Thetford unexplored and unsafe as they made their way back to London, killing the odd Fenrir they met up with along the way. When they returned to the Tower of London, Matthew was relieved to see that the Tower appeared to be functioning as usual and that there was no sign of a harbinger attack from within and when he enquired about the wounded soldier; he was told that he was in a crazed state and was currently in a prison cell in order to protect himself and others. Matthew then remembered that every harbinger Gus had been near quickly returned to themselves for a short time. It happened to both Abdul and to the harbinger in the DC alley and Matt took a mental note that the next time he was called upon to fight harbingers he was most certainly bringing Gus.

* * *

After a few hours rest and a very quick refreshing, Matthew climbed upon his horse and rode to Buckingham Palace to debrief the King's council and then on to Kensington to see Veronica. Upon hearing Matthew's report, the Council immediately sent couriers throughout the country warning them to stay out of East Anglia north of Thetford and it wasn't long before the area was quickly renamed the Forbidden Forest.

As Matthew made his way toward Kensington Palace, he was surprised to see the new make-shift roads through the mountains of black ash and snow that were actually more like deer trails but it did make travel a little easier rather than having to pick one's way through all the rubble. Coming to Hype Park Corner, Matthew turned his horse into Hyde Park and rode a mile and a half through the over-grown lawns and memorials. The Park was largely untouched by the Minimum since it contained relatively few buildings and due to its size it was a welcomed relief from the destruction of the surrounding city.

Coming to the Round Pond in Kensington Gardens, Matthew stopped to let his horse drink from the surprisingly clear water and untied the hands of the boy he had brought with him from Thetford. His feet were still bound just in case he had another pentacode attack but since he'd not had an episode for several hours; Matthew was feeling sorry for him having to be tied up for so long.

"Sorry buddy, but you do know why I need to keep you tied up don't you?"

The little boy nodded and bowed his head as if he was deeply shamed.

"Hey. This isn't your fault. I know someone who can help you, don't you worry..." Matt paused realizing he didn't know his name, "What is your name anyway?"

The boy looked up at him and as he tried to speak he saw tears coming to his eyes and Matthew held him to his chest, "It's okay buddy—it's okay.."

Just then, the boy went into pentacode again and Matt held him tightly until it passed and while his little body slowly relaxed, Matthew continued to hold him and quite instinctively began to rock back and forth in an effort to comfort him even more.

"Morgan," said the boy quietly talking into Matt's chest.

Matthew laughed and held him even tighter and then released him and held out his hand, "Morgan, nice to meet you. My name is Sir Matthew."

Morgan shook his hand and smiled slightly, "Where are we going?"

"To Kensington Palace to find Father Erdem—the man who can make you better and then to see someone very special," replied Matt as a large smile came to his face as he thought about Veronica.

Morgan's legs were still tied and as he struggled to stand Matt knelt down and cut the ropes, "Promise you won't try to kill me," he said jokingly.

Sadness came over Morgan's face again as he looked at the ground and nodded, "Yes Sir."

Matthew then felt horrible at his rude attempt at a joke, "Hey, I'm sorry. I know you can't help it. I got bit once when I lived in America. We're going to get you all better. You just watch."

Matthew rolled up his sleeve and showed Morgan his scar as a smile came to the boy's face and he looked up at Matthew with renewed courage.

They both walked the rest of the way across the over-grown gardens and to the gates of the Palace where they were greeted by four guards.

"Sir Matthew here to call upon Lady Veronica," announced Matthew thinking that if he used official titles it would help cut through the red tape.

"Is the Lady expecting you?" asked one of the guards who appeared to be in charge of the front gate.

"Well, no actually she is not," replied Matthew, "but I assure you she will be delighted to see me."

The man in charge whispered in another guard's ear and he immediately left walking toward the Palace, no doubt to announce Matt's presence but in five minutes time, he was seen walking back to the gate with a woman trailing behind him.

As they drew nearer, Matthew could hear the woman getting after the guard and in no uncertain terms was informing him that Matthew was a friend of Lady Veronica. Approaching the gate, the guard turned to the woman, "Do you recognize this man?"

"I should say I do. I am surprised you do not. This is Sir Matthew Hector, Captain of His Majesty's Ravenguard."

Matthew was puzzled at first since he knew for a fact that he had never meet the woman on the other side of the gate and he smiled at her in a confused but grateful way. The guards all looked at each other and then the man in charge nodded and they opened the gates to let Matt and Morgan inside.

The woman led them down the road leading to the Palace and once they were out of earshot of the guards the woman finally turned to Matt and extended her hand, "Corinna, her Lady's maid and also at your service. Lady Veronica is away at the moment but she specifically asked that I watch for you."

How did you know it was me since we've never met and I'm certain Veronica does not have a picture of me in her purse?"

Corinna smiled, "We have spoken about you so frequently that I knew you the moment I saw you. Although I was a little taken aback when I saw you had a son."

"Oh, this isn't my son. Well, not biological anyway," he smiled at Morgan reassuringly and continued, "I found him in Thetford last week all alone. He is not well and I have also come seeking Father Erdem."

As they reached the Palace, Corinna called for a stable boy to come and take Matt's horse and they stepped inside out of the cold.

"I'm very sorry but Father Erdem is not here either, they have all gone south to Dover to lay to rest Professor Moran's remains I'm afraid—but we expect them back within the week," said Corinna as she took Matt and Morgan's blankets they were using to keep warm, "You both of course are most welcomed guests in her Lady's house.

Just then, Morgan went into pentacode again and Matthew reached over to hold him, "He does this every so often. I assure you I can restrain him sufficiently."

Corinna was alarmed at such violent behavior in an otherwise very quiet child and Matthew determined that he at least owed Corinna an explanation, "He has received a harbinger bite—but I assure you he will be just fine once we see Father Erdem."

Corinna nodded slowly and then as if she remembered what Matthew meant to her Lady, she smiled and directed them into the library where as usual a large fire was burning, "Warm yourselves in here and I will have your rooms prepared."

Matthew smiled at Corinna's kindness and thanked her as Morgan was beginning to settle down again and before Corinna left the room he added, "Just one room please," as he nodded down at Morgan.

Corinna smiled, "Of course."

Matthew sat Morgan in a chair by the fire and then took one himself and extended his legs toward the fire and looked up. Above the mantle was the Fenrir head he had killed in London by stabbing it in the eye. He had sent it to Veronica as a joke and a jab witnessing to her that he too could kill a Fenrir single handedly. He hardly expected that she would have it stuffed and hung on a wall in the Palace. The taxidermist didn't replace the destroyed eye but had it sewed shut, giving the Fenrir the Hmmorous appearance that it was winking.

Matthew laughed as Morgan looked up and gasped in fear. Matthew quickly reached over and held Morgan's hand, "It's okay. I killed it. I've killed hundreds of them. They will never hurt you again Morgan. I promise."

Morgan smiled in relief, growing fonder of Matthew and asked, "Are you a knight?"

Matt laughed out loud thinking how ridiculous a question that was but his laughter faded as he remembered his secret knighting back in September and the fact that he had just returned from his second quest for the King so he turned and looked Morgan in the eye and said, "Yes, I am."

# Chapter 28

It was just passed eight in the morning when Veronica's carriage arrived at Kensington Palace and she was awakened by the sound of music. She sat up in her carriage and looked out the window and saw a few street musicians playing and dancers outside the Palace gates with a crude sign that read, "Players play for food."

She sat back in her seat as the gates closed behind the carriage, _how odd_ , she thought. _A year ago actors and musicians were seen as demigods, the very pinnacle of society and now they are truly an afterthought if not a nuisance_. She marveled at how quickly society was reverting back to a medieval age complete with players and gypsies. After the carriage came to a stop, Veronica saw Corinna and the house staff standing at attention in front of the Palace entrance waiting to attend her and her guests.

As the carriage door was opened, Veronica saw Matthew walking out of the Palace doors and she ran to him and kissed him, enjoying a long embrace, "How long have you been back—I see you are not hurt in anyway."

"Yes, I am very well—though weary of hunting. We only just arrived yesterday—had a devil of a time convincing your staff that I was your friend. Thankfully, your maid Corinna was able convince them, otherwise I think I would have still been standing at the gate dancing with the gypsies—or frozen to it."

Veronica turned and smiled at Corinna and she responded with a respectful bow, "Corinna is a treasure, I have no doubt she has insisted on your every comfort."

"Indeed she has, we have been well cared for," replied Matt nodding to Corinna in a thankful manner.

Veronica was a very attentive listener and she noticed that Matt had used the word _we_ for the second time and she now assumed it was deliberate, "We?" she asked.

Matthew smiled and motioned Veronica to enter the Palace doors ahead of him, "I have someone I want you to meet."

After Veronica entered, Matthew held the door for Gus, Ted, Shay and Jess and they greeted him casually being that they were all very tired and cold, having traveled so far in such bitter weather. Once everyone was inside Veronica apologized to her house staff for the unannounced guests and requested that Gus, Ted and Shay be made comfortable in the Nottingham Cottage—a modest detached apartment on the Kensington grounds.

"Father Jess will only be with us a short time as he is waiting for an appointment from the King, but please make him comfortable in the south wing," said Veronica placing her hand on Jess's back endearingly, "and perhaps make ready his room first, he is completely exhausted."

Jess smiled, thanking Veronica but before he was about to follow Corinna upstairs, Matthew stopped him, grabbing his arm "Jess, can I have a minute?"

Matthew directed Jess and Veronica into the library where Morgan was sitting in front of the fire and upon seeing him Veronica gasped, "Why is this child tied up?" as she rushed over to aid him.

Matthew stepped in front of her, stopping her from reaching the child, "It's not what you think. Morgan knows why he needs to be tied up, don't you buddy?"

Morgan nodded his head sadly as Jess walked forward knowing immediately why he was tied up, "My dear child. It is a miracle you are alive my son."

Veronica turned to Matt and then back to Jess waiting for an explanation, "What's wrong with him Father?"

Jess stroked Morgan's head and pointed to the wound on his arm subtly, not wanting to frighten the boy any more than he already was. Veronica was still a little confused as to why a laceration on an arm would require being bound hand and foot.

"Morgan, this is Lady Veronica—and this is Father Jess, the man told you about, the one who fixed my harbinger bite," said Matt as Veronica finally understood and then knelt down by Morgan placing her hand on the ropes that bound his hands together.

Matthew then walked over and untied Morgan and held him on his lap, "I only bind him when I cannot be in the same room."

"Why does he need to be bound at all?" asked Veronica.

Matthew explained how he found Morgan and how he was convulsing about every half hour when they first arrived but that now they were becoming less predictable. "I don't know if this is the effect of the Minimum but when a Hmman is bitten by a harbinger these days, they eventually turn into one themselves. It appears that the change is very gradual however," said Matthew while Jess was inspecting Morgan's arm.

Jess looked up at Matt trying to be hopeful but the truth was he had no idea how to proceed. The differences between Matt's bite and this one were stark. Matt appeared to be dying from his bite back in DC and the concoction he made was intended to purify the bite not exercise the demon within. Morgan's bite was completely scabbed over and looked to be healing. What this child needed was an exorcism, something he had neither the experience nor authority to do.

Before Jess could speak Matthew stopped him, "Jess," and then placed his hand on Jess's shoulder. "I wasn't completely unconscious when you prayed at my side in Abdul's apartment. I don't know what effect that green mixture had on my healing, but I do know the thing that pulled me out of the jaws of hell was your blessing. I'm confident that is all Morgan needs today."

Jess sighed deeply and placed his hands in his lap as if he were saying a silent prayer and then slowly looked up and placed his hands on Morgan's body that was starting to tremble with fear. As Jess began to pray, Morgan started to go into pentacode as if the devil inside him knew what was about to happen.

Matthew held Morgan tightly and he eventually had to hold Morgan's forehead to his chest since he was gnashing ferociously at the air and thrashing his head in all directions in an attempt to find something to bite. Veronica gasped and started to cry at seeing such an innocent child so tormented.

After Morgan went into pentacode, the words to Jess's prayer became louder and more forceful with heavenly authority until Jess finally uttered, "DEPART!" and the fire in the fireplace completely blew out and then restarted and Morgan went completely limp in Matthew's arms and looked as if her were dead. Matthew looked at Jess and then at Veronica fearing the worst until they could hear a faint cry and Matthew sat Morgan up on his lap and began to dry his tears.

"Morgan—are you okay buddy?" asked Matt pulling back the boy's long hair out of his eyes.

Morgan nodded and then looked around the room as if he had just awakened from a long nap. Matthew held him in a tight embrace and continued to reassure him that everything was going to be alright as Veronica and Jess also confirmed that he was safe and that they would take care of him.

"You can live here with me, you need not worry about a thing sweetheart," said Veronica offering to take Morgan in her arms.

Morgan held tightly to Matthew, the only security he had known for the past three days and Matthew motioned to Veronica that maybe now wasn't the best time to get acquainted. Veronica nodded and then knelt down and held Morgan's hand as Jess got up and walked over to the windows and looked out on the winter landscape and sighed. No one spoke and in the silence of the room, Matthew and Veronica both heard Jess whisper, "Thank you God—do with me as thou wilt and I will serve thee forever more."

After 15 minutes, Morgan slowly looked up from the folds of Matthew's shirt and smiled at Veronica and then reached out to her. Veronica lovingly reached out her arms and slid Morgan over on her lap as he gave her a very tight and long squeeze. For a few minutes longer, Veronica held Morgan until she remembered the Toprak fleet in the channel and she groaned within herself growing very angry. After seeing Morgan so tormented at the hands of Toprak she vowed to destroy Hengist and Horsa as well as anything that stood between her and them.

Corinna entered the room and found it as quiet and sober as a church, which took her by surprise. After a few confused seconds, she looked at Veronica and asked, "Is everything quite all right my Lady?"

Veronica smiled, "Yes, yes. We are just enjoying a grateful moment before we have to go attend to the war waging in the channel."

Morgan looked up at Veronica when he heard Corinna address her as Lady and asked, "Are you a princess?"

Veronica laughed, "No, I'm afraid not but we can pretend if you like."

Corinna also laughed at Morgan's simple innocence and then added, "If the Duke of Devonshire had anything to do with it you would be my Lady. After all, the King does not have any living relatives."

"I was not aware of that Corinna, how perfectly sad that is—how terrible for his Majesty," replied Veronica. She then sighed as duty was loudly calling her, "Corinna my dear, can you please have my carriage brought around along with a small escort."

"Where will you be off to my Lady?" asked Corinna wondering if she needed baggage.

"Sir Matthew and I will be traveling to the Seven Stars—we will be back before nightfall—with any luck," replied Veronica.

"We're going where?" asked Matthew.

"I'll explain on the way, we really don't have a moment to loose and I'm afraid we have tarried too long as it is, although—we certainly needed to tarry," said Veronica, kissing Morgan on the forehead.

Corinna was surprised that Veronica would boldly go so deep into the city where things were still so unsettled and she worried for her safety, "I insist then that an armed escort attend you."

Veronica looked at Matthew somewhat shocked not knowing that things were still so unsettled. Matthew nodded agreeing with Corinna, "It is still quite dangerous in that area my Lady. The Ravenguard fought a very large harbinger army there a month ago. We would probably be wise to travel by a less extravagant method, and perhaps just on horseback so we don't draw attention to ourselves."

Corinna looked to Veronica waiting for her decision and after a few seconds, Veronica agreed with Matthew and ordered that only horses be brought but without an armed escort as that alone would draw attention, "We will need horses then for myself, Sir Matthew, and Lord Guiscard."

Matthew agreed but nervously said, "I hope I'm enough—if we run into any trouble that is. I think we should have a few guards go with us."

Veronica thought for a moment remembering the Toprak fleet that was no doubt deep into the channel by now and approaching Dover, "What we are about to do is of such grave importance. We can't risk being delayed. I am almost considering that I go alone if I could, but I need Gus."

"Completely out of the question!" said Matthew shaking his head.

Veronica got up and sat Morgan on a chair in front of the fire and reassured him that Corinna would take very good care of him until they returned. Morgan nodded and then looked at Matthew and held out his hands so that they could be tied.

"No, no—you don't need that anymore buddy. You're all better now. Father Jess fixed you just like I said he would," said Matt rubbing the top of Morgan's head.

Jess walked over and knelt down by Morgan's chair, looked him in the eyes and spoke to him directly but reverently, "Remember this Morgan as long as you live. Father Jess did not do this—God did. I am just a lowly man."

Morgan looked at Jess soberly and then nodded, "I promise."

Within an hour of arriving at Kensington, Veronica, Matthew and Gus left for the Seven Stars in the heart of London traveling by horse back. The day was gray and cold with a stiff wind blowing from the Thames, dropping temperatures near zero in the heat of the day as it began to snow. When they reached the Seven Stars Pub, they found it empty as usual but walking through the door, Gus paused as Moran's final memories passed before his mind's eye.

"You okay Gus?" asked Matthew stopping to grab his arm in case he collapsed.

"Yes I am well—just painful memories here—terrible," said Gus shaking his head in disbelief, "Poor fellow."

After making their way up the narrow winding stairs, Veronica showed the Rain Locker to Gus and Matthew and explained this was how she was able to communicate with them when they were in Montana, "It takes special skills to operate it that only professor Moran knew, which is why you needed to be here Gus."

Gus walked over to the Locker and rubbed his hand along the carvings, contemplating and sorting through memories that were not his own. Veronica and Matthew sat quietly watching Gus and after a few moments, Matthew turned to Veronica and whispered, "Why is it called a Rain Locker?"

Just then, Gus unlocked the doors and pulled on the handles of the Locker open with a loud squeak. "You'll see," said Veronica as the skies outside the pub grew darker and within a few minutes rain could be heard coming from inside the Locker.

Matthew stood up and walked over to the open doors and then laughed, "It's raining inside!" He then paused and turned to Veronica, "As incredible as this is, this is going to help us how?"

Veronica listened for the rain to start falling outside but it never started, "Gus, are you sure you are doing it right?"

Gus was overwhelmed since he was only acting on what memories came to his mind without completely understating them, "I think so, or rather I—I don't really know."

Veronica walked over to the window and pulled the lace curtains to one side and looked out on the cobblestone street below and then laughed, "Its working! It's just too cold to rain—it's snowing."

Gus and Matthew walked over to the window and looked out, "So the Rain Locker is causing this both inside and outside?" said Matt.

"Yes it is and so long as the doors are opened, it will continue to rain—'er snow rather," said Veronica walking back to the Locker, "This is exactly what Cecil did when the Spanish Armada threatened England. The Locker was left open for days on end and the history books recorded the worst storm on record. I wonder how the history books will record an equally bad storm in such a terrible winter as this."

"So, the Rain Locker makes it rain, but how did it allow you to communicate with us nearly a world away?" asked Matthew.

Veronica explained that so long as there was a storm at the location where the person you wished to speak with, it allowed you to do so, "How I'm not sure, but Moran does."

Both Veronica and Matthew turned to look at Gus as he looked back at them with a blank stare, "I'm pretty sure I just have to focus on the person and," just then from within the locker they could hear Ted's voice as he was talking out loud, working on a redox equation on a chalk board and the sound of the chalk scratching and squeaking. Within a few seconds, they could faintly see the chalkboard in the Nottingham Cottage and Ted standing in front of it within the Locker.

"Hello there Ted," said Gus startling him causing him to drop the stick of chalk in his hand.

"Gus?" replied Ted.

"Theodore, it's Gus, Veronica and Matt, we made it safely to the Pub and as you can see, we got the Locker going. Hopefully this snow storm will last at least until we have the formula figured out."

"That is the damnedest thing!" Ted said whispering to himself and shaking his head.

Seeing that things were under control and going according to plan at the Seven Stars, Veronica and Matthew left Gus in the pub and they made sure the door was securely locked behind them, leaving Gus and Ted alone to rediscover the formula for gunpowder, while outside an unparalleled storm was brewing.

Gus watched Ted scribble on his chalkboard and then after a few minutes take a step back, return to the board and erased what he had written and then started over. After watching him do this a half dozen times Gus interrupted him, "Theodore, I think you are forgetting an important ingredient."

Ted sat the chalk in the tray and turned to face Gus through the Locker, "Oh?! Please enlighten me," replied Ted frustrated from the huge amount of pressure that had been placed upon them to reinvent gunpowder in such a short amount of time. In the last 24 hours they hadn't made any real progress.

"You're forgetting that the world does not respond as it once did. A redox equation is rather useless since the rules of chemistry have changed—at least changed enough to nullify that formula. Theodore, you are a brilliant thinker, but I'm afraid we are trying to turn a Phillips screw with a slot driver."

Gus got up from his chair in front of the Locker and began pacing the floor, thinking. The wind had begun to blow and looking out the pub windows he was surprised to see that there was already an accumulation of two inches of snow, swirling around in a blizzard in the street below. Within the Locker, Ted was sitting with his feet resting on the chalkboard tray trying to determine how he could adjust his formula to better reflect the conditions of the day.

In an effort to help Ted with his reasoning, Gus began thinking out loud, "We know that the Minimum caused a massive amount of ozone to rest on the earth's surface. Ozone of course is an oxidizer; too much oxidizer of course is as bad as none at all. The oxidizer in black powder or gunpowder rather—is of course Potassium Nitrate, which you have there in front of you. So..."

Ted cut Gus's reasoning soliloquy short, "I think you've run aground on something there—black powder. Black powder and traditional gun powder are not synonymous. Black powder was invented in the early 20th century also known as smokeless powder, which is what I have been experimenting with. Black powder was an attempt to create a more powerful explosion. But why—why change something that had worked so effectively for hundreds of years? I think it was because traditional gunpowder had lost its effectiveness due to increased solar flare activity."

Ted walked over to a small table that contained numerous boxes, jars and mixing containers and picked up a bottle of Potassium Nitrate, "Gus, where did they get Potassium Nitrate in Queen Elizabeth's day?"

Gus thought for a moment walking back toward the Locker, "Saltpeter."

"Which is what?" said Ted setting the bottle on the chalkboard tray.

Gus thought for a moment, "I believe it is bat guano—bat poop. However, any sea bird dung would yield sufficient amounts of Potassium I should think, so long as it was dry and crystalized."

Ted and Gus began talking at once, saying the same thing but using different words as they arrived at the same conclusion and at the same time both said, "We need some bat poop."

"Exactly!" said Ted, "Chances are crystalized saltpeter would naturally already have the required amount of oxidizer to create a low temperature ignition, which is the piece we have been missing." He picked up the manufactured bottle of Potassium Nitrate and held it up to Gus, "Here is our slotted screwdriver!"

"Only one issue remains," said Gus, "Where are we ever going to find a sufficient amount of saltpeter in the middle of winter and with me creating the worst storm in 400 years?"

Ted agreed and told Gus he would rally support for a bat dung quest there at Kensington and waved good-bye as he left the room to go find the Duke and whatever help he could conjure.

* * *

Soon after Matthew and Veronica had returned from the Seven Stars, the King's courier arrived with an urgent message directing Matt to take his Ravenguard and another thousand men who had volunteered directly to Dover in anticipation of a Toprak landing.

Matthew kissed Veronica good bye and told Morgan to take good care of Lady Veronica while he was gone as he stepped in his stirrup and raced toward the Tower. By the time he arrived, the Ravenguard was already assembled along with another thousand volunteers, waiting for their commander. Matthew lead the King's army across the Thames on Tower Bridge which had survived the Minimum tolerably well since it was built in the 19th century.

The intensity of the Rain Locker storm made travel nearly impossible as snow accumulations were reaching over three feet and the forbidding temperatures froze and cracked any exposed skin. As the army approached Gillingham, only a short 36 miles southeast of London, Matthew ordered for camp to be made and the supply wagons to be brought forward and for everyone to change into a dry set of clothing so that hypothermia would not kill off his army before meeting the enemy.

As the supply wagons came forward, Jess approached Matthew as he watched his ragtag army shuffle around in the snow in almost complete confusion, trying to organize. He determined that he had to bring more structure to the King's forces and he greatly feared that if they were this scattered attempting something as simple as setting up camp, what would happen when they faced a disciplined and deadly Toprak force?

Jess followed Matthew as he climbed upon a large rock protruding out of the snow and watched his men as the wet snow relentlessly pelted on his back. He pulled the hood of his thick Fenrir coat up over his head and pulled it in tight around his neck to stop the snow from entering and his body heat from escaping. His coat was made from the heaviest pelts he found while hunting Fenrir and the dry weight of his coat was over 100 pounds but was fantastically warm and waterproof. The Fenrir fur was over eight inches long and very oiled, which repelled the water beautifully. It wasn't the prettiest fur coat but it was perhaps the very warmest.

As he looked down on his men, many of them were ill-prepared for a march, let alone a march in arctic conditions. Matthew turned to Jess after a few minutes of silence and asked, "However can I manage so many?"

Jess turned and looked at Matthew and then smiled, "You may not be leading this group of men to the Promised Land but you do have a similar problem as Moses did."

"Oh—and what did he do?" asked Matthew laughing slightly that Jess could find a biblical application to seemingly everything.

Jess looked out on Matt's army and identified several men who seemed to have a natural ability to lead, "See those men there that are assuming a command over the others?"

"Yes, I had noticed that. They are all men from the Ravenguard."

"Those men have a natural ability to lead, call them forward and name them your Captains. Moses appointed captains of tens, hundreds and thousands, each in turn reporting up the command chain to him. Seemed to work well enough for all the Children of Israel and also proved to be a very successful organization of the Israelite army that crushed and subdued the entire Middle East for centuries."

Taking Jess's priestly advice, Matthew organized his army roughly into ten groups of one hundred and appointed each of the men Jess identified to be a Captain of Hundreds. Each Captain was then instructed to divide his respective group into smaller groups of tens and appointed ten captains and name them Captains of Tens, each reporting upwards in the command chain to Matthew.

Within a few hours, Matthew and Jess watch a disorganized group of men unite under a very structured hierarchy and as the sun began to set they could even see makeshift banners being raised above several encampments proudly identifying their division of hundred.

"Thank you Jess—for your help and for agreeing to come along with me on this march through hell," said Matthew as they ducked under a canopy and sat down on wet blankets to eat warmed aposeptic beef.

Seeing Matthew as anything but confident was very rare and as Jess picked up a piece of beef and bit off a mouthful, he smiled and nodded several times, "You are very welcomed my brother. I would honorably die alongside you—but you need not worry. You will lead heroically as you always do."

Matthew shook his head, "I don't know Jess. This isn't the triviality of the Senate and it isn't a Sunday football game or a knife fight in the General's meadow. We are about to meet steel to steel with a very large army trained in medieval warfare."

Jess laughed within himself, "Look at you brother, you are a warrior, no one to be messed with—and you are the best we have. I have to believe God will make up the rest. We are doing all we can do."

Just then a rider came into the camp and approached Matthew's canopy, "Sir, I bring news from the Channel!" and after catching his breath he continued, "The Toprak fleet has been greatly broken up by the storm just as we had hoped. The waves hitting the shore at Dover are over twenty-one feet and the fleet has moved northward and was last seen twenty miles west of Margate."

Margate marked the eastern-most point of land before entering into the Thames estuary which meant that however many ships were still afloat, they were on their final approach to enter the Thames proper and then to the Tilbury landing site. Matthew called for all his Captains to report to his canopy as he ordered the messenger to continue.

"How many ships remain?" asked Matthew as he got to his feet.

"Visibility is zero in the Channel Sir however, I used to work on the Dover-Calais Ferry and I've never seen the Channel so ugly. I don't know how any ship, no matter the size, could weather it. When the fleet was last seen near Margate there were five of them Sir."

As the Captains assembled he asked, "How far is it to Margate?"

One of his Captains quickly volunteered, "About 70 kilometers Sir."

"How far in miles?" said Matthew turning to Jess, frustrated that Europe used the metric scale.

"About 40," replied Jess.

Matthew thought for a few minutes. In such stiff winds, the ships were probably making very good time, even with a small set of sails which out of necessity they would have to have. The problem now was that they were on the wrong side of the Thames—assuming that Toprak was actually going to land at East Tilbury, which in Matthew's mind was somewhat far-fetched and a reckless assumption.

"Where is the next most-likely landing past Margate?" said Matthew to his Captains.

They all looked at one another trying to come to a consensus and trying to determine which ports had not been completely destroyed and after a few minutes they all concurred that Sheerness was the most reasonable place for a landing which was about 15 miles from East Tilbury on the opposite side of the Thames.

Matthew immediately ordered for the camp to be broke and for everyone to be ready to move out within the hour. Marching on Sheerness was perhaps going to be to no avail but it was all he could do since marching back to Tower Bridge in London for a crossing would take a full day or more and Toprak would certainly land before midday tomorrow at the latest.

The weather was still very bitter but seemed to be lightening some; however Matthew and Jess assumed it was their imagination rooted in wishful thinking. Leaving the half-made encampment, Jess looked back and noticed numerous mounds in the snow that looked like graves. After pointing them out to Matthew he called his Captains forward and learned that 11 had died since leaving London and 106 had died of exposure since they made camp three hours ago.

Sheerness was a flat piece of land that raised less than one hundred feet above sea level but as they drew near the coast, they concluded that they were not just imagining the lifting of the storm. It had stopped snowing for the past hour and they could see small patches of blue sky above their heads occasionally but the wind was still stabbing through every fold of clothing.

The seas however, were still very rough and waves were crashing on shore as high as the old Broad Street which was approximately five thousand feet from the beach. The Minimum had destroyed most of what was once the proud city of Sheerness and after the terrible storm; most of the ash and debris had been washed away, leaving only a few skeletal buildings rising through the deep snow.

As they drew nearer to the coast they could make out a Toprak ship that had run aground and was heeling over on its side in the rough surf. There would have certainly be survivors since it was less than a mile off shore but Matthew wondered if anyone could survive such rough and freezing seas. Just then, one of his Captains rode up and reported that men had been spotted on shore with more swimming toward land.

Before departing, the King and Veronica had given a very detailed debriefing of Toprak to Matthew and Veronica had mentioned that Toprak ships could carry up to twenty-five hundred troops for short distances. If Veronica was right, Matthew determined that he could be out-numbered by more than two-to-one—and that would be two-to-one against a seasoned and well-trained army. His army was made up of businessmen and farmers who could scarcely hold a real sword in their hands to say nothing of wielding it skillfully. The Minimum had destroyed all the modern concrete in London but left all the steel and consequently there were mountains of it. The King ordered that it be quickly melted down and made into weapons, which it was. If Matthew had any advantage it was the fact that they were drier and warmer than the enemy on the beach and they had ample weapons.

As they drew nearer, Matthew could see hundreds and perhaps thousands men in the process of dying on the beach or still swimming toward it. Most of them appeared to be suffering from the effects of extreme exposure and were shaking on the snowy beach while others were attempting to walk, trying to keep their blood flowing and their eyes open.

With the intervals of sunshine becoming longer and warmer—although warmer was only a difference of 10 degrees—it was perhaps only a matter of time before the Toprak soldiers recovered, at least some of them and then they would be more lethal. It seemed terribly un-sportsman-like to fall upon them in their current condition but as Matthew sifted out the situation in his mind he determined that this was not a matter of running up the score in a football game. This was war and the men on the beach would certainly kill them all if they were able.

Matthew turned to Jess who knew what he was wrestling with and without Matthew saying a word; Jess shook his head in sadness and gut-wrenching pity and then nodded in agreement. Matthew then turned to his Captains and gave them the nod as he watched them ride and run down to the beach and began to fall upon the unsuspecting and mostly defenseless Toprak soldiers.

Many of the volunteer men bend over and threw-up their own guts at the site of seeing so much Hmman carnage and he remembered his first hand-to-hand battle experience in the north pasture of General Clancy's ranch. To his small army's credit and resolve to preserve freedom, after throwing up they would return to the battlefield and continue the work of death. When all the soldiers on the beach were dead, they waited for the few straggling soldiers to reach the shore as they rolled over on to their backs and accepted their fate as dead men.

After only an hour, most of his army was now sitting on the beach watching the crimson tide in disbelief as it slowly washed away gallons of blood along with the draining corpses. It was a scene like nothing Matthew or Jess had ever witnessed and the contrast of the pure white snow defiled by the blood of war was sobering. The air was silent, only the sound of the waves crashing on a thousand bodies was heard and as Matthew turned to look at Jess he was pronouncing last rites and just finishing the sign of the cross, blessing the battlefield and all the dead.

Once the news that the Toprak fleet had been mostly broken up in the Channel and that less than a half dozen were making their way toward London, the King ordered that the Rain Locker be closed so that the two ships England did have, would be able to sail out to meet them and hopefully delay their progress until Matthew's army could return to London.

# Chapter 29

In the early afternoon, Veronica's _Ronnie_ and Nicole's _Euterpe_ made their way out of the protected waters of the London Docklands and into the Thames, sailing east to meet the four remaining Toprak ships. The King had assigned Nicole to be the chief officer of the _Euterpe_ instead of its captain __ and her displeasure was very evident. She felt that the _Euterpe_ was hers and that no one was better qualified to sail her and while that may have been true, the King thought the assignment of a former Royal Navy Captain was wiser since he could direct the battle and Nicole could manage the ship.

Veronica had almost all of her former crew on board along with Shay, but they were to follow orders from the Royal Naval Captain until the engagement started and then since they had no way to communicate during the battle, Veronica was to keep a safe distance from any ship and only board if the _Euterpe_ was nearby for support.

No one in 2041 had any real sea battle experience since modern warfare at sea was more about stealth and weapon accuracy than weather gauge and positioning for a hand-to-hand engagement. The truth of the matter was that the best the King's ships could hope for was to create a delay of at least twenty-four hours so that a sufficient army could be placed at Hengist and Horsa's landing site. Therefore, the King's orders were to only engage if absolutely necessary and board only if all was lost.

The King and the Duke of Devonshire pleaded for Veronica not to go but all attempts to stop her were futile. She was very confident in both her men and her ship and she also knew that if it came down to it, Hengist would not allow her to be killed which gave her a great advantage. Having already died once was also a great advantage since it was something she did not fear. She also knew that her Toprak crew was the best trained England had and they would not sail with anyone else.

The wind was blowing moderately from the northwest, which if it continued from that direction, would give them the advantage of the engagement and as the two ships sailed into the entrance of the Thames, they saw the four Toprak ships in the process of spreading more sail so that they could tack faster as they worked into the wind towards London. However, when the King's sails were at last spotted, all the Toprak ships maneuvered into a line which gave them the best chances of defense, just as was done in the sea battles of 400 years previous.

The Captain in charge of the engagement order Veronica to remain close until they got within a half mile of the Toprak line, then they were to turn northward creating enough distance in an attempt to draw at least one of the enemy between them. Regardless of what happened, Veronica was given strict instructions to not allow a Toprak ship to get before her and the wind since that would give them the advantage.

When a ship passed before another in the wind, it created a wind shadow, which completely robbed the downwind ship of momentum and effectively made them sit like a duck in the water—a dead duck and the windward ship could take complete advantage of the engagement. England's Lord Nelson was perhaps history's most renowned expert at assessing an engagement and predicting the wind, allowing him to rake a ship from stem to stern repeatedly. He was often accused of not being a great seaman since he often ignored traditional naval tactics and usually just went straight at the enemy.

Veronica was of course well-read when it came to Lord Nelson and as she watched the battle ensue from the quarter deck she said to herself quoting Nelson, "Never mind the maneuvers, just go straight at'em!" as she waited for the Captain of the _Euterpe_ to signal.

Communication between ships was always difficult before modern technology and many sea battles were lost due to poor or non-existent communication during battles. Veronica was keeping a very close eye on the _Euterpe_ not wanting to miss the signal but as the _Ronnie_ came within a half mile of the Toprak line, no sign came. The _Euterpe_ was only about three ship lengths ahead of her and she could see Nicole at the helm on the quarterdeck and she held her hands to her mouth and yelled, "Signal to break?"

Nicole looked back at Veronica and then forward again as if she was confused and a few minutes later she finally came about northward under a quarter mile from the Toprak line. Veronica quickly followed the new direction but they were so close now to the line and essentially over committed so that Toprak made a quick adjustment to their line directing the furthest south ship to break formation and follow after Veronica as the northern-most ship sailed forward to intercept the _Euterpe_.

As Veronica assessed the situation, she determined that what was happening was perhaps the very worst that _could_ happen. Toprak was closing off their forward progress and was about to flank their rear. The Thames estuary at this point was only about five miles wide, making maneuvering very tight and leaving no room for error, especially after the error they had already committed.

Veronica was very frustrated, "What is happening on board the _Euterpe_?!" she said before refocusing on the immediate and mortal crisis at hand.

The _Euterpe_ , upon seeing a Toprak ship move into its path, turned abruptly westward into the wind which made them loose their momentum and they came to a complete stop less than 300 yards in front of the _Ronnie_. Veronica only had two options; one, she could crash into the _Euterpe_ or two, try to come about placing her right into the jaws of the Toprak line. Both were equally undesirable but if she turned into the teeth of Toprak's line, the _Euterpe_ would at least be unharmed and hopefully come to assist her.

Veronica yelled to her Sailing Master, "Hard to Starboard—hand-over-hand hard!"

Without questioning, the Master spun the helm to Starboard and the _Ronnie_ groaned under the pressure as all hands slid on the wet deck to the Starboard rail. While the deck was in confused disarray, Veronica held onto the Mizzenmast as she yelled to the men in the crosstrees to trim the sails in order to be prepared for a change in wind as they jibed in front of the Toprak line placing them on a broadside course with the furthest south Toprak ship that had come up to flank the rearward of the King's two ship fleet.

Too much momentum was lost due to the abrupt change in direction and the _Ronnie_ slowly coasted alongside the _Baslatmak._ Veronica walked over to the port rail and looked across the quickly narrowing gap between the two ships and could see Horsa standing opposite her on the _Baslatmak's_ quarter deck.

Horsa was looking her in the eye but didn't move or say a word as his ship slowly drifted toward hers, waiting for the right moment to throw grappling hooks and board her. Veronica stood defiantly also saying nothing as she heard Shay quietly call to her from the companionway and without turning to face him she just slowly shook her head keeping her eyes fixed on Horsa.

The seconds ticked by like hours as the two ships drew closer and closer together until at last Horsa gave the signal for his men to board the _Ronnie_ and the deck of the _Baslatmak_ erupted into wild cheers. At the same time, Veronica nodded to Shay who was still peering up at her from the companionway and just as Horsa's men were swinging their grappling hooks and about to release them into the air, the port side of the _Ronnie_ exploded from bow to stern as each 1,500 pound carronade hurled a 32 pound iron ball at the steel hull of the _Baslatmak_ with deadly force and at a forty-foot, point-blank range.

Veronica wasn't sure how effective a 19th century cannon would be against the solid steel hulls of Toprak ships which is why she waited until the very last minute to get as close as she could. However, as she watched the unbelievable force of all 50 cannons hit the side of the _Baslatmak_ , penetrate and then explode out the other side, she watched Horsa's countenance change from supreme confidence to absolute horror. To the 21st century mind, medieval cannons were little more than loud toys, but when hearing their thunderous roar and seeing the destruction they inflicted upon the _Baslatmak_ , their renewed respect and deadly might were powerfully re-instilled in everyone's mind.

So close were the two ships that the _Baslatmak_ crew began jumping overboard and swimming toward the _Ronnie_ , many with their knives and swords in their teeth. For most, the water was much too cold and the men's swimming movements were paralyzed as they sank below the surface within seconds. There were a few however who made it to the _Ronnie_ but were quickly cut down as they reached the rail by the waiting _Ronnie_ crew.

The _Baslatmak_ was so full of holes that it sank quickly below the icy waves after a single broadside of the deadly _Ronnie_. It appeared that all hands were lost but through the thick smoke it was impossible to tell if any were able to get to another ship as they were all so close together.

Veronica ordered the guns to be quickly reloaded as she also ordered the ship to come about as she gained a little momentum and skirted behind the Toprak line. Sailing behind the line placed her in a vulnerable position since now she was sailing into Toprak's wind shadow but her confidence was strong and as the enemy's ships appeared to be in full haste to abandon the engagement all together and head out to open sea, Veronica said to herself, "This one's for you Lord Nelson," as she threw the maneuvers to the wind and went straight at them.

When Shay yelled that the guns were reloaded and ready, Veronica ordered that they aim as low to the water line as possible and then sailed in close behind the remaining three ships and raked every stern, causing one to sink straight away as the crew frantically rushed to board the other nearby Toprak ship.

Of the three remaining ships, Veronica could see that two were taking on water badly. It appeared to not have any steerage and was drifting right toward the _Euterpe_ , "What are you waiting for?!" yelled Veronica at the _Euterpe_ , as she watched it sitting doing nothing and not entering the engagement.

All hands on the _Ronnie_ watched the _Euterpe_ in silence waiting any moment for her guns to fire on the crippled Toprak ship as it drifted ever closer to them. Then when the two ships were less than five feet apart, the _Euterpe_ finally fired but after only three or four guns were heard, a very large explosion discharged from within the ship somewhere and after that, no more guns fired. The ailing Toprak ship was now almost under water with 12 inches of water washing over its deck. The surviving crew all boarded the _Euterpe_ and within a few minutes the Toprak's ship masts were disappearing below the waves.

The _Ronnie_ was now much too far away to lend any assistance to the _Euterpe_ and the last remaining Toprak ship had sailed southward, running from the engagement, no doubt trying to reach land. Veronica had no choice but to wish the _Eurterpe's_ the best of luck and stop Toprak from landing on English soil where they would be much harder to stop.

The _Ronnie_ was still upwind and Veronica ordered for all sail as they cruised toward Toprak, gaining on them every minute. As they grew closer, Veronica noticed that the Toprak ship did not have steerage and they were adrift in the rough seas. The stern rake of the fleet was deadly accurate, knocking out the rudders of the ships rendering them helpless in the water—sitting ducks.

Veronica instructed her Master to sail past the Toprak ship and then come about and wait for it, allowing for a full broadside. As they passed, she could faintly see someone who looked like Hengist but she couldn't be sure and as her ship came about, the Toprak ship slowly drifted by. When the distance between them was just over 200 yards, the _Ronnie's_ Starboard side began to thunder. Something near the bow of the Toprak ship exploded as it quickly began to sink and within 15 minutes. After the smoke had cleared, the ship was gone. There was only one thing left to do, and that was to go back and see if the _Euterpe_ was still one of the King's ships or if it now belonged to Toprak.

By the time the _Ronnie_ returned back to where they left the _Euterpe_ , beating into the wind, the sun had already set and an orange and red glow filled the western sky making it very difficult to see anything on the water, let alone a black-hulled ship. Luckily, in the last light of the day, a call was made from the crosstrees, "Ship ahoy, two points to Starboard!"

As Veronica cautiously approached the _Euterpe_ , she dropped her top sails and allowed the wind to spill from all the others, causing the _Ronnie_ to coast slowly into the dark unknown and closer to discovering the ownership of the _Euterpe_.

As they drew within 100 yards, no lights could be seen on or below decks and by the way the _Euterpe_ was positioned in the rising tide, Veronica concluded that it was adrift and unable to sail most-likely due to the large explosion they witnessed earlier in the evening.

Before they came within 50 yards, Veronica made sure all the port guns were made ready and as they approached 20 yards, the _Ronnie_ dropped anchor to stop from being carried in with the tide and the Chief Officer of the _Ronnie_ called out, "Ahoy _Euterpe_!"

The _Euterpe_ was silent but after a few moments, a flame could be seen coming up on deck and approach the rail closest to the _Ronnie_. Veronica couldn't make out a face but as she strained in the poor light she heard Nicole call out, "I guess I was wrong. You can be bothered to assist us."

Veronica decided to ignore Nicole's sarcasm and enquired after the well-being of the crew and the Captain. Nicole answered very coolly saying that the Captain had been killed as well as most of the hands but there were approximately 100 survivors and as Nicole backed away from the rail they could see many other people on deck with her huddled together in an attempt to stay warm.

"Can you sail?" callout Veronica, where upon Nicole replied in the negative, saying that they were taking on water slowly and that most of their forward rigging was destroyed and requested that the _Ronnie_ come closer so that they could board.

Veronica agreed and in the darkness, the two ships were brought within boarding distance as the first of the _Euterpe_ survivors swung across the 10 foot distance between the two ships. As they continued to cross, many thank-you's and god bless you's were heard as the _Eurterpe's_ expressed their gratitude for being rescued. Then in the cold, blue moonlight, one of the _Ronnie_ crew members recognized an old Toprak soldier he knew back in Morocco and yelled out, "BIZ YOK!"

The deck erupted into violence as the sound of steel hitting steel and yells and moans filled the night air as Veronica immediately shouted to Shay below decks, "FIRE!"

The _Ronnie_ shook violently as all 50 guns on her Starboard side discharged at once causing the ship to rock back on her side as the _Euterpe_ burst into flames and practically disintegrated under such massive point-blank fire power. Men from both ships were flung into the water as both sides continued to fight steel to steel.

There were perhaps only 50 Toprak soldiers that had come aboard, the rest, if there were any more, were most certainly destroyed on the _Euterpe_ as a very large fire ball burst into the sky that could be seen as far away as Dartford and heard in the streets of London.

The shrapnel that countered back from the _Euterpe_ explosion entered into the _Ronnie's_ hull and she began to take on water. Thinking quickly, Veronica turned to her Sailing Master and ordered him to pull away from the wreckage but as she looked at the helm, she saw him lying in a pool of blood. As the fighting on deck continued between the two Toprak forces—those who were loyal to Veronica and those who were still fighting for Hengist and Horsa, Veronica yelled to all available men to raise anchor as she took the helm and slowly began to pull away from the _Euterpe_.

After several minutes, they were far enough away that they only needed to worry about the remaining Toprak's on board and as the bloody battle continued, Veronica struggled to see where they were and estimated that they must be near the first major bend of the Thames when all of a sudden, she felt a cold steel blade against her neck.

She didn't move and didn't speak for several seconds until the Toprak soldier behind her began to laugh, "Should I enjoy you and then kill you, or kill you first and then enjoy your corpse?"

"Either way, Hengist will have your head on a plate!" said Veronica trying to stop herself from trembling.

The Toprak soldier knew Veronica was right but that didn't stop him from harassing her and fondling her as he reached around with his other hand laughing at her trembling body. The soldier's breath was very strong with Vodka and she waited for the right moment before making her move. The moment she was waiting for was the relaxing of the soldier's blade against her neck and as she took a deep breath, the soldier moved his blade ever so slightly, signaling that he was distracted by her body.

Veronica collapsed her legs and slipped out of his hands and after hitting the deck, she rolled away from the soldier several feet, far enough to draw her sword. The soldier came after her and in an attempt to stop her from getting up or rolling further away he jumped on her as Veronica's blade drove into his chest breaking a rib and thrusting all the way through and out his back.

The Toprak soldier collapsed on top of Veronica and she coughed several times because of the man's weight just as she saw Shay standing above her pulling the soldier off her small body. Veronica gasped for breath as she thanked Shay, "I think I might have suffocated had you not come along."

As she stood up Veronica watched the soldier's nerves twitching as his large body shook on the deck and Veronica plunged her sword through his chest one more time, "Who's trembling now!" she said sheathing her sword quietly added, "biz yok."

Shay stood with an open mouth, amazed as he considered Veronica's courage and grace; contrasting what he had just witnessed with when he first met her as Gus's pretty new assistant back at the Senate. Turning around, Veronica smiled and stepped over the dead Toprak soldier and turned to see how things were going on the lower deck. The noise of the battle was gone and in the blue light of the winter moon, she could see her own men dragging the dead to the rail and heard an occasional splash as her disciplined, Toprak-trained crew was still following orders to the exact letter and clearing the deck.

Now that Veronica was able to focus on the ship's progress up the Thames, she thought she could make out the low outline of land to Starboard and guessed it was East Tilbury but as the _Ronnie_ continued to take on water it sat lower and lower in the water until it ran aground near the ruins of the town of Grays. Since there wasn't any danger of the ship sinking any deeper, Veronica slumped down against the Mizzen and pulled her Fenrir-coat to her face and sighed.

With the rush and noise of the day's battle slowly dissipating in her mind and ears, she realized how absolutely cold and exhausted she was. She tried moving her toes and realized they were completely numb and she wasn't even sure they were responding to her forced efforts. She felt something hard on the side of her face and as she went to feel it with her cold hand; she determined that it was frozen blood that had drained down from some unnoticed wound in her hair. The longer she sat in the silence of the quarter deck the more she began to notice countless unaccounted for pains as the weight of the terrible battle sunk into her protected, but very delicate heart.

She considered all that had happened over the past eight months of her life and she surrendered to the harsh reality that the world was now a very dangerous and ugly place where death was a welcomed release for many in the world. And when she considered how many hundreds and perhaps thousands she had caused to be killed today, her good heart swelled with pain as a tear escaped out of the corner of her eye and then froze in the fold of her skin next to her nose.

Shay walked over and sat down next to her as she leaned her head on his shoulder and he pulled a blanket over their heads in an attempt to keep whatever warmth they both generated from escaping into the biting night air.

For a long time they both sat in the silence of the night, both recounting in their minds the horror of the day. Veronica's thoughts continually replayed the events of the battle as they rewound and then unfolded again and again, each time adding a new detail that she previously had forgotten. She then remembered the strange actions of the _Euterpe_ and wondered why it didn't engage in the battle and how it just drifted to the side of the channel. In her mind, she saw it sitting helplessly as Toprak approached ever closer all the while, the _Euterpe_ was quiet—right up until it exploded as she cried out loud remembering who was on the ship, "Nicole!"

# Chapter 30

Veronica was awakened by the sound of Shay's voice, talking to someone over the rail and as she pulled the blanket off her head, she saw that it was Matthew and the Ravenguard standing on the frozen shore. The _Ronni_ e had run aground just a few hundred yards from the bank of the Thames and the crew had already started tethering the wounded to the waiting wagons. Veronica stretched and walked over to the rail and smiled at Matthew in the cool morning sun. The Rain Locker storm had completely burned off but the winter sun gave little warmth or comfort in the aftermath of the battle.

Veronica walked the length of the ship to the stern rail looking around for the _Euterpe_ , hoping that it too was nearby or at least a small sign of the wreckage but it was nowhere to be seen. Last night it seemed that they had only sailed a few minutes after destroying the captured _Euterpe_ but in the heat of the battle, time and space had a way if distorting things and Veronica concluded it must have been much further away than she thought.

As Veronica watched the dead and wounded carried off the ship she asked Shay if he knew the death toll, "Forty-four dead from the guns recoiling and about a dozen more from the deck battle and it is rumored that twenty or more are missing. We many never have an exact count, but—all things considered, I think the _Ronni_ e faired rather well."

Veronica turned to Shay with a confused look, "Guns recoiling?"

Shay shook his head remembering the horror of the first broadside they shot at the _Baslatmak_ , "The guns jump backwards when they are fired—terribly. We had no idea they would do that and almost every man that was standing near the guns was crushed by their weight. The port side gun deck was a mess of blood after that first broadside and seeing the carnage, I quickly commanded that all starboard guns be lashed in place. Luckily, we were able to do that before we fired again."

Shay sighed deeply, "Even still, several men were killed after that. Who would have thought our own guns would be so deadly to us. I was also amazed at how hot they became after several shots—hot enough to give a second-degree burn if you placed your hand on it—as many men did."

Veronica was noticeably upset by the news as she bit her lower lip and turned away and watched her men being carried overboard. Seeing Matthew command his men and organizing the rescue effort helped shift her thoughts and she even managed to smile as she saw Jess climbing out of the back of a wagon holding the cross around his neck in his hand, no doubt granting last rites to the dead.

Jess looked up at Veronica and smiled and then looked at her ship and nodded in approval as if to say he was pleased and most grateful for her heroics last night. Rumors had already started to spread about how Veronica single-handedly destroyed all of Toprak and try as she might; it seemed futile to refute her very loyal and supportive crew.

Veronica climbed over the side of the _Ronni_ e to a waiting pinnace and as she reached the shore, Matthew picked her up in his arms and carried her to her waiting carriage. Her crew erupted into cheers praising her for her courage and leadership which evolved into a simultaneous, "Harrah! Harrah! Harrah!"

Veronica's mind flashed back to Tangiers when she was carried to and from her pinnace at the hands of men she despised and looking up at Matthew, she kissed him which garnered another round of cheers. Matthew set her down gently in her carriage and kissed her back, telling her that the King requested that he ride with his men as far as Southend to look for any Toprak survivors. He informed her that he would be back in London within a few days where they could for once; spend days in each other's company and long nights in front of a warm fire. Veronica smiled and placed her hand on Matthew's cheek and felt his five-day beard growth as only one side of his chapped lips curled up into a half smile.

When Veronica arrived at Kensington, she was greeted with a hero's welcome by her house staff, Gus, Ted, the Duke and even the King. Once inside she insisted that she set the record straight that she did not defeat Toprak alone, "Without Lord Guiscard and Ted's discovery, it would have most certainly gone in the favor of Hengist and Horsa. The real heroes here are Lord Guiscard and Ted."

The room erupted into congratulations and contradictions of who were the true heroes until the King settled the issue by stating that the only thing that mattered is that Toprak was defeated, "And as for that, the praise and the glory of the victory goes to the English people and our American friends."

Every one clapped in agreement as Veronica excused herself and climbed the stairway to her room where Corinna was drawing her a hot bath, "A hot bath—however did you manage it?!" exclaimed Veronica in excitement.

Corinna explained that the building maintenance staff restructured the plumbing so that the old electric water heaters were now placed over a fire on the service level and then pumped up stairs from the well under the palace—by hand of course.

"That seems like a dreadful amount of work but I must say it surpasses all my wildest wishes and dreams at this moment. Thank you," said Veronica as Corinna was about to shut the door and Veronica added, "Corinna, how is dear Morgan?"

"He is fine my Lady—ate a large supper and fell asleep in the library. He is now in his room," replied Corinna as she shut the door, leaving her alone to soak in the warm and soothing waters of her tub.

Alone for the first time in what seemed like weeks, her free thoughts focused on the loss of her crewmen, the battle, the cold world outside the palace and the millions of unfortunate souls struggling to survive like Morgan and she wondered how many others there were like him. English citizens were very lucky that their King was so well prepared and she shuddered to think how the rest of the world was getting along.

She laid her head back and winced in pain as the feeling in her toes slowly returned with the sensation of a thousand needles. She closed her eyes and before she knew it, she was waking up in a cold tub several hours later.

After getting dressed, she returned back downstairs to the quiet library and slumped into her favorite chair in front of a very warm fire. On the small table next to her chair was the Winchester Chronicle and she tHmmbed through the pages a little nervous, looking to see if there was any history about Hengist and Horsa that she missed. It was certain that they did not land at East Tilbury yesterday and she was certain that their bodies were lying at the bottom of the ocean—but, she also knew that defeating Toprak was not an easy thing and she was rather surprised that they did not have gunpowder themselves since they seemed to be always one step ahead of the rest of the world.

Just then the door opened and Ted stuck his head inside, "May I intrude?"

Veronica whirled around to face the door, "Oh Ted, you are never an intrusion, of course, come in—come in," said Veronica apologizing for her apparel which consisted of over-sized Oxford sweats.

"Thank you again for your unbelievable work on figuring out the right mixture, and in the nick of time too. We would have all died out there if it weren't for you. Toprak read our every move and positioned perfectly to board us both at the same time, despite how careful we were trying to be."

Ted smiled and nodded and then said, "Gus is the real hero, I was going about it using 21st century science but Gus was able to simply guess the mixture. He is a true alchemist I think. When I asked how he came up with the formula, he said it just felt right."

Veronica smiled and waited for Ted to speak since it was obvious that he had something heavy on his mind.

Ted began slowly and very soberly, gaining a little more momentum as he spoke, "I'm sure you are aware by now that Nicole did not return—and while I know, understand and accept that war has its unbiased and cruel price, I would still like to know what happened."

Veronica paused, not knowing how to say what she knew about Nicole and after a few moments and a deep breath she related to Ted the events of the _Euterpe_ during the battle of the Thames, as it was now being called.

"I am truly sorry Ted, bitterly sorry. I wish things could have been different." She paused and then added, "The most terrible thing is if I had to do them over again, I would have to make the same choice—I'm so sorry."

Out of respect for Ted, Veronica left out the part where Nicole was flippant just before the Toprak soldiers came aboard almost as if she were aware and part of the plan. She also left out the part about how the _Euterpe_ did not give the proper tacking orders and that it took several minutes for any response and how they did not engage in the battle. There were many unanswered questions in Veronica's mind when it came to Nicole but she knew that Ted was in love with her and she decided that there was no harm in protecting a loving memory for a friend.

Ted sat quietly for several minutes, mentally digesting what Veronica had told her and then looked up, trying to change the subject, "Oh, did you hear about Jess? The King has appointed him Archbishop of Canterbury."

"Wow, that is rather incredible!" said Veronica, relieved to move off of the subject of Nicole, "When did this happen?"

Ted had to think a minute as the last week seemed to blur into a single day, "Yesterday after he returned from the south with Matt. The previous Bishop was a victim of the Minimum." Ted paused and then began to laugh, "He isn't taking the appointment very well as you can imagine."

Ted and Veronica both laughed together before Ted continued, "He is also struggling with becoming a Protestant, but I was in the cottage when Gus was talking to him and in the way that only Gus can, he told him that denominations and dogma were meaningless; the only thing that matters is that you love God, love truth and serve both fearfully."

Veronica nodded, "That sounds like Gus, and that sounds like just what Jess needed to hear."

Ted got up and began making his way to the library door when Veronica stopped him, "Speaking of Gus, do you know where he is?"

"Right after you went upstairs this morning he said he was going back to the Seven Stars, something about looking up an old friend in Montana. I've not seen him since," said Ted and then sensing sadness in Veronica's voice asked, "Everything all right?"

Veronica turned back and looked out the tall library windows, nodded and then shrugged, "I guess so."

Ted paused for a few moments studying her, trying to ascertain her true disposition but then just gave her a weak smile and left the room. Alone again in silence, her thoughts returned to the depressed state of the world, the untold death toll, and the sheer brutality of life now after the Minimum. As she struggled to rise above it, she couldn't help from thinking about Nicole. She lamented that she was not a better judge of character since it was becoming more and more obvious to her that Nicole was a willing participant and not a victim yesterday—but then when she considered that Nicole was dead, she sighed and said out loud, "Not that it matters now anyway."

"What doesn't matter my dear?" said Gus entering the library and startling Veronica.

Veronica jumped up from her chair and met Gus halfway across the room and embraced him for a long time saying nothing. Gus had always been a father figure to her and like an adult child, with all her strength spent and her defenses down; she began to cry as the setting sun changed the white snow outside her window to orange.

Gus stroked her long brown hair and returned her embrace as she trembled in his arms. For a long time, neither of them spoke, the words not forth-coming nor were they important. Everything that needed to be said was spoken through a loving embrace. Gus could feel Veronica's sadness penetrate into his own heart like water absorbing into a dry towel and he groaned within himself and wished he could take away her sorrows. "We're going to be alright dear. Everything's going to be all right," said Gus at last.

Veronica broke her embrace and wiped her tears on her sleeve sniffing, "I'm sorry Gus. I've been a little overwhelmed lately it seems."

Gus laughed, "I can't imagine why?"

They both sat down as Gus continued, "You are perhaps the strongest woman I have ever known but also the most tender—a remarkable combination. Under your iron and often-times, red-hot will, is a soft hand. You are a remarkable woman. I knew that when I hired you, but just how right I was about you I never knew until I watched you take control of the King's fleet and defeat Toprak."

Veronica smiled but after a few moments her sorrow returned, "How do you reconcile it all Gus? How do you deal with the fact that I was just your assistant eight months ago and now—and now..." Veronica stopped talking in order that she might control her tears that were beginning to build up again.

"How do you overcome the world?" said a voice coming from the doorway of the library.

Jess had entered the room at the same time as Gus but was unnoticed by Veronica due to her complete attention and emotional dependency on Gus. Jess came over near Veronica and knelt down on the floor next to her chair and took her hand in his, "My Lady, you are so very young and it is so unfortunate to have been thrust onto such an ugly world stage as this, but though you might not think, you have given so many others strength. We all have our limits, and it appears that maybe you have finally reached yours."

Jess was a biblical scholar and could seemingly quote the entire book of scripture from memory and he began reciting from St John 16:33, " _These things I have spoken unto you, that in ME, ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world_. The world has always been an ugly place, unfortunately for us, it is now hideous—but, you can overcome it—and rise above it. Peace is not of the body my Lady, but of the spirit. Our Lord was at peace enough to forgive his crucifiers while he was suffering. It didn't matter what they did to his body, his soul was already at peace."

Veronica sat quietly, being a little irritated and resistant mostly because she had never really been a religious person, at least not on any deep or meaningful level. Jess's words sounded awkward to her and uncomfortable but at the same time, inviting somehow and she forced herself to listen with an open heart.

Gus got up and pulled his chair closer and invited Jess to sit. Getting up off the floor, Jess let go of Veronica's hand as she wiped her few remaining tears and sighed, "I have a hard time with Jesus examples," she said and then quickly so that she did not offend Jess she added, "I don't mean to offend Jess—please forgive me."

Jess smiled, "I understand. Jesus is a very hard comparison, after all, he was half God—but luckily, I know of another example. I would have never considered non-canonical examples of piety a year ago but since the Minimum I have really come to understand that religious boundaries are a tool of the devil. We're all in this together and when we die, we will not be organized into sects. We will all just be sons and daughters of God arrayed according to our thoughts and deeds."

Jess leaned over, placing his elbows on his knees, "In 1844, a mob in the state of Illinois killed a religious leader—brutally shot him a few dozen times and continued to shoot him long after he was dead to complete the insult for his followers. While the world has since debated the things he taught, two things leave me in reverent awe about this man. First, he voluntarily rode to Illinois on his own horse to stand trial for charges he knew were bogus. He had taught his congregation that they should uphold the laws of the land and since he was no hypocrite, he went. The second and most amazing to me is what he said before he rode off to his death. He said, _I go like a lamb to the slaughter, but I am as calm as a summer's morning_. He wasn't calm because of ignorance. Any fool can be calm when they don't know the calamities that are at his door, but it is a true saint and a wonder of a man who can be at peace whilst he rides off into the jaws of hell."

Veronica shook her head, "I am _not_ that kind of person."

Jess smiled again and took her hands in his, "None of us are Veronica. That's why we have been commanded to pray."

Jess's words sunk deep into Veronica's heart and after a few minutes she began to nod as she said a silent and very quick prayer in her mind that consisted of only, _Please help me God, give me strength_. She immediately began to feel peace come over her that surprised her so much, a small tear of joy rolled down her cheek as she then began to laugh, "I don't know why I'm crying or laughing at the same time—I'm in pieces I'm afraid."

Jess put his hand to her cheek and wiped her tear, "No, you are becoming more whole by the minute."

Veronica placed her hand on top of his and pressed it against her cheek as more tears of joy began to flow, "Thank you."

Gus was also touched and wiped a tear from his eye, "We truly live in a remarkable day and there is nothing quite as miraculous as a heart that is consoled by an invisible hand."

Jess turned to Gus and smiled, "Speaking of miracles..."

Remembering Jess's appointment to the Bishopric Veronica jumped in her chair, "Oh Jess, congratulations! Ted just told me about your appointment! The King could not have made a better choice, on my word—and to be the Archbishop!"

The position of Archbishop of Canterbury was almost the same as being appointed to be the pope and Jess was still trying to wrap his head around it, "Thank-you—I am quite overwhelmed to be honest—while my appointment is something of a miracle in my mind that is not what I was referring to."

"Oh?!" said Veronica looking up at Gus who was having trouble holding back a smile.

Gus's strenuous efforts to keep from grinning seemed to only make his smile bigger and before he began to speak, a strangled laugh escaped his lips, "I don't know how to even preface this—I..." Gus laughed again and then gave up on any kind of introduction, "Geoffrey, come on in here!"

Veronica turned to see who Gus was talking to, not making the connection that the General's first name was Geoffrey, General Clancy walked into the room completely mortal and alive. Veronica was speechless and she looked at the General, back at Gus and then at Jess.

"I didn't do this," said Jess, "This was all Gus."

For Veronica, no words were forthcoming and after all, what do you say in response to seeing a dead man standing in your library.

Gus laughed with pure joy, "Veronica, this is one of my dearest friends in the world, General Geoffrey Clancy. Geoffrey, may I introduce to you my dear friend who I also like to think of as my adopted daughter Lady Veronica Paige."

"How do you do Veronica—my Lady," said Geoffrey standing somewhat at attention and bowing his head respectfully.

Just then, Corinna entered the room announcing that dinner was now being served in the main dining room and when she saw that Veronica had guests, she quickly ordered the house staff to set additional place settings. Meals at the palace these days were perhaps simple when compared to the lavish formal dinners a year ago, but considering the state of the world and the vast supplies of aposeptic meats in England, the meal was more than adequate.

Jess was sitting across the table from the General and watched him take his first bite of meat, "Well, that answers that question."

The General looked up, "And what question is that?"

"You're not a spirit," replied Jess smiling and shaking his head playfully, "When our Lord was resurrected it finally took him eating a piece of broiled fish to convince his disciples that he was not a ghost. You've passed the resurrection test."

Everyone at the table laughed as the General replied, "So ghosts don't eat huh?"

Everyone laughed again as the atmosphere in the palace was now very lighthearted and joyful. As the meal progressed, Veronica, who was sitting at the head of the table, turned to Gus, "I must know how you did this, and I'm guessing the Rain Locker had much to do with it."

The light conversation grew quiet as all eyes turned to Gus. Gus paused for a moment and then turned to the General, "I suppose the story of this miracle starts with you."

"I suppose it does," replied the General wiping his mouth on his sleeve and swallowing before continuing, "Actually, the story really begins with the Skanicum 400 years ago."

"The what?" asked Veronica as she sat down her fork and gave her full attention to the General.

The General quickly took another bite of beef and swallowed, "The Skanicum was once a mythical creature in North America dating back to about the 15th century, perhaps longer. According to Indian legend, they were terrifying and would carry off little children at night, which they did but only after they were already dead—and they did the same with me. After the last period of solar minimum, Hmmans could no longer see the Skanicum but they were still there none the less."

Veronica was resting her chin on her hand, listening intently, "Like the Fenrir in this country."

The General was unaware of the Fenrir and he looked at Gus confused. Gus nodded, "Yes that is correct. The Fenrir are a half wolf, half bear monster of enormous size like a rhino, however they are an evil lot, devouring anything that stands before it and their appetite for Hmman flesh is insatiable."

The General cocked his head, "No kidding—does anyone hunt these beasts?"

Veronica smiled as she thought about Matthew, "Only some. I killed one once but it was far from pleasant. Matthew thoroughly enjoys it however; you two will have to go Fenrir hunting when he returns."

The General smiled and laughed as he considered hunting again, one of his greatest joys in life, "Indeed!"

Quickly eating the last piece of meat on his plate, the General apologized before he resumed, "Please forgive me but I am completely famished." Wiping his mouth again he continued, "To make a long story more interesting, the Skanicum collected my body that night in the rain when you were speaking with us through the Rain Locker and ate it as they do."

"They did!" said Veronica in horror as the General placed another large serving of beef on his plate and began cutting it up.

"It isn't all that terrible now is it," replied the General smiling as he held up a big piece of beef on his fork, "We eat dead things, in fact it would be barbaric to eat it when it was alive, now wouldn't it?"

Putting the large piece of beef in his mouth the General continued, speaking around the meat as he chewed, "The only difference between them and us is that when the Skanicum eat flesh, it makes it eligible for a mortal renaissance. You see, the Skanicum are not natural carnivores."

"Fascinating!" interrupted Jess, "But, after the battle in your pasture, the Skanicum ate all the dead did they not Gus?"

Gus nodded and then motioned for the General to continue.

"If Hank were with us he could relate this story better than I but he was taught by his grandfather that after he killed something, he should pray to the animal that was lying dead and thank it for its sacrifice since in this world, life only comes through the death of others and that eating the dead animal was the only way to insure its own renaissance—which is why I reached out to Professor Moran at the time of the Rain Locker session to tell Gus not to bury my body. Buried things rot and decay, do they not?"

Jess was nodding, trying to understand the complexity of the Skanicum, "But I thought that the Skanicum hated man—at least according to Hank."

Finishing his last piece of beef the General continued, "Indeed they do. However, that is the result of having been greatly misunderstood over the centuries. You see, around the time of the landing of the Pilgrims in America, the Skanicum were seen by man and like everything else man does not understand he tries to destroy it. The Skanicum on the other hand, were just like any other animal in the forest, through their natural instincts they were a valuable piece of the biosphere—but you can imagine what happened when they were discovered eating Hmman bodies."

"They became the very devil himself," said Veronica.

The General turned and nodded, "Indeed. I learned a great deal during my time with the Skanicum as a spirit. Hmmanity a few months ago thought they were a very brilliant bunch, but they were only brilliant in their own works and the world they had created—but when it came to the world God created, well—we were all as dumb as a sack or rocks."

Jess was beaming with approval at the General's words and started nodding his head repeatedly, "Amen General, Amen, Amen, Amen! We are such a sad and pessimistic lot us Hmmans. God our creator and our father has given us everything we need on this planet to live happy, healthy and peaceably, but since the dawn of time, we have thought that happiness can only come through the work of our own hands. Don't get me wrong, God blessed us with talent and skill but we cheat our souls when after we create, something, we worship it as our God."

"And speaking of talents, our friend Gus is a true wonder," said the General pointed to him suggesting that it was now his story to complete.

"What I am about to say will no doubt be denied by most of the world but the recent Minimum is a blessing to mankind as all will understand in the years to come. If you consider all of our lives over the past few months, each has experienced a type of awakening of sorts that has made us better. Granted, some of what we have all become is just the simple result of having been placed in terrible circumstances and each of us rising to meet the challenge. Take me for example, Veronica, you know of my strange tea fetish—always trying to mix the perfect brew."

Veronica laughed, "Indeed I do! I'll not forget the time you filled the office with the smell of burnt tea that made the maintenance staff believe we had legalized marijuana in the building. They were sadly disappointed when they learned it was just tea leaves."

Everyone laughed hardily as Gus collected his thoughts and continued in a slightly sober tone, "We are all more awake than we were a year ago since all of our penal glands no longer produce excessive amounts of melatonin and with that awakening, we are more able. Ancient alchemists achieved miraculous things that we have written off today as foolish-folly. I would have never been able to find the right mixture of saltpeter to create gunpowder before the Minimum, but now because of the Minimum, my alchemic abilities are greatly enhanced and using what scant knowledge I had of the ingredients I just mixed what I felt was correct."

Gus became even more sober as he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, "Professor Moran was a true genius and the gift he has given me is beyond my ability to express gratitude. However, his memories are now infused so completely with my own I can scarcely determine where his end and mine begin—but, when you introduced me to the Rain Locker, I noticed in Moran's memories him seeing the General's ghost, which is why I had to return today and finish what he started. The rest is rather simple to understand. I was able to bring Geoffrey back through the Rain Locker since ghostly matter can travel through space and time and since his body was not buried in a rotting grave, but still living within the Skanicum; I was able to do with him as I did with you my dear—which was reunite body with spirit. _How_ I was able, I scarcely think I will ever understand but under the right circumstance, it is just now something that I can do."

Veronica was staring blankly across the large dining room, her thoughts returning to the look on Nicole's face as the _Euterpe_ exploded until she noticed that everyone at the table was looking at her. She shook her head in an attempt to shrug off the memory and apologized for her absent pause, "Forgive me. It's Nicole. It's too bad we don't know where her body is. While I still do not trust her, I would give almost anything to bring her back for Ted. He came to see me this evening and he is completely tormented—all the worse that I was the one who fired on her ship."

The General smiled proudly at Veronica, "Gus is rather proud of your efforts. On the way here this evening he went on and on about you. However, I know the sorrow you carry and the impossible decision you had to make in nanoseconds." The General reached across the table and placed his hand on Veronica's, "You did the right thing but I know that doesn't diminish your sorrow—damned and impossibly unfair war is."

Veronica nodded with a small smile on her face, grateful for the General's words and then decided she had to tell someone what really happened, "Thank you Geoffrey but, I know Gus didn't tell you the complete story, because he doesn't know it—no one does."

Everyone looked at Veronica in great anticipation of what she was about to say but the General was the only one who spoke, "No battle happens in the same way the history books record it."

The room was quiet for several long minutes before Veronica continued, "The _Euterpe_ was supposed to engage first and then signal the _Ronnie_ but as we drew near the Toprak fleet, no signal came. At first I assumed there was some kind of confusion on board, but as the battle progressed it was rather obvious that the _Euterpe_ was intentionally not engaging. Then, after I returned to assist the _Euterpe_ once the last Toprak ship was sinking into the channel, I saw Nicole on deck with a torch and she was quite flippant with me in a taunting sort of way, as if she were trying to get me to engage."

Veronica paused knowing that her next words would change things in everyone's mind, "Which is why it was so easy to fire upon her ship once I discovered that the survivors coming from her ship were Toprak soldiers and not the King's crew."

Everyone at the table was speechless. It was difficult for Gus and Ted to see Nicole as anything but kind and on their side. Veronica shook her head, disgusted with herself, "I have dreamed and replayed that moment in my mind a thousand times since yesterday wondering if I had heard correctly and if perhaps I imagined what she said and did."

"You must not do that to yourself. I've been where you are more than once, your mind was clearest when you were in the heat of the battle I assure you. It is only afterwards that we consider what may or may not have been. Those questions in your mind are nothing more than the evidences of a good heart; wishing things could have been different—but they weren't," said the General in a firm voice.

Veronica thanked the General for his reassuring words and then said, "I just wish I were a better judge of character, then I could convince myself more easily that she was a victim and not a participant."

Gus smiled, once again enjoying the unearned knowledge he received from Moran, "True character is rather easy. That's not to say everyone remains true to their character but it is as evident as their name."

Jess narrowed his eyes as he looked at Gus trying to understand what he meant, "How do you mean?"

"Well, take your name—do you know what it means?"

Jess shook his head, "I just thought it was a name but now that you suggest it, names should have meaning. I mean, anciently, names were changed to reflect a new calling or a change of heart. In fact, that's what baptism is all about, changing your name by adding Christ's name to your own in an attempt to make us holy."

Gus smiled, "Jess actually means gift from God. I can't think of a more fitting title to call you."

Veronica laughed, "Really? You're just making this up."

"I swear to you I am not, this is Moran's knowledge and part of his life's research" replied Gus, "In fact now that I think about it, Theodore, Matthew and Shay all mean gift from God—and looking back on the past few years of our acquaintance and now our deep friendship, I couldn't agree more."

Jess smiled warmly at Gus as he continued, "However, your surname Erdem means virtue. You are most true to your birth name dear Jess."

The General was intrigued but skeptical, "But does it hold true for everyone?"

Gus thought, searching through Moran's years of research, "Well, let's see. Clancy means, red warrior. _That_ is certainly and most emphatically true—and Geoffrey means peace."

Gus paused reflecting on the General's colorful and renowned military career, "The red warrior that fights for peace. That is you down to your toenails my friend. As for you Lady Veronica, your name is from ancient Greece and..." Gus began to laugh amazing himself with how accurate birth names were, "actually means she who brings victory!"

Everyone at the table applauded and cheered which made Corinna come back in the room to see what was happening, "The name Veronica means she who brings victory!" yelled out Jess, "Tell Corinna what her name means Gus."

Gus thought for a moment, "Maid, it is of Celtic origin. What is your surname my dear?"

"Durst," replied Corinna feeling a little self-conscious.

Hmm, now that is interesting," said Gus. "Durst means riot."

"What does Paige mean—my surname?" asked Veronica but then shook her head at the silliness of her question as she realized that a Paige anciently was a servant. She laughed at her own question as did everyone else, "Never mind."

"Names are rather revealing especially as I review Moran's research. While at Toprak he was not only researching bloodlines but was also secretly organizing persons according to their name meanings. I believe he was trying to predict behavior based upon the current world stage. For example, Hengist means Stallion and Horsa, of course means horse. Two men with the same mission one being the leader the other the servant, much like our horses carry us home."

"Or one being an arrogant bastard and the other being the brute force," said Veronica offering another interpretation.

Gus smiled and nodded agreeing with her additional insight, "Abdul, who was the first harbinger we discovered actually means servant of the powerful, and Warin, the man who abducted Veronica in London means guard, and he was the captain of the Toprak guard. I'm finding it difficult to find a single example where a person's name does not reflect who they are, no matter how they try to obscure it."

Veronica hesitantly began to ask Gus what Nicole's name meant, almost afraid of the answer. Gus thought for a moment and then replied, "Hmm—people's victory or victorious people."

"There are two ways you could look at that," said the General, "her demise could be seen as a willful sacrifice for the people or she was acting on behalf of the people."

"We now just need to know who her people are, us or Toprak," sighed Veronica in frustration as Nicole's particular name meaning didn't resolve any issue in her mind about her. Everyone knew so little about her and as they all discussed her actions and general disposition it was difficult to ascertain which side of the line she was on.

After a few minutes longer, Gus appeared to want to change the subject and began talking about the cooler temperatures since the Minimum until the General stopped him, "You must tell us what your name means Gus."

Gus immediately became uncomfortable and said nothing at first but as all eyes were on him, waiting for an answer he informed them he could not and would not divulge, "It is a delicate matter I'm afraid and a matter of treason. When I said I couldn't find anyone who did not live up to their name, I meant to add myself as the one exception."

There was a long pause and after several awkward seconds, Veronica tried to get the conversation back on the rails by asking Gus, "What does Matthew's surname mean?"

Gus smiled at Veronica, as usual she came to his support as any good assistant would, "Let's see, Hector means to hold fast."

Veronica began to laugh followed by the rest of the table as they considered Matthew's brash and unconquerable spirit as Veronica replied, "Of course!"

* * *

In the dark of the cold night, Matthew was taking shelter with his men in an old frame warehouse on the banks of the Thames just passed the East Tilbury bend. Having been traveling in the cold for the past month, Matthew hated to say it but he was getting used to it and during the day time, he almost didn't notice the extreme temperatures.

As Matthew and his men settled into a set watch of sleeping, two miles to the south, a small dinghy was slowly making its way toward shore in the moonlight. Within a few minutes, the dinghy slid up on the snowy bank of the Thames and sat there as if it were an empty boat, left over and adrift from the battle until a hand painfully reached the top of the gunwale and pulled the body it was attached to over the top of the boat and onto the frozen ground. Another hand could then be seen coming over the opposite gunwale and soon there were two bodies lying on the shore of the nearly frozen Thames.

The two bodies lay for a long while, not moving or making a sound until the rising tide began to flood in upon them and they staggered to their feet and reached inside the dinghy and pulled out a woman. Each man held her by an arm and dragged her into the bogs of Tilbury and out of sight of anyone who might be looking for survivors.

# The End

# Book Club Discussion

  1. Solar Minimum is a book about change. What personality changes in Gus, Veronica, Matt, Ted, Shay and Jess did you notice between the first few chapters and the last?
  2. Did you notice any changes in personality with Hengist and Horsa, why or why not?
  3. The nature verses nurture debate in modern psychology argues that Hmman behavior is either rooted in genetics or the environment. Both of these themes are addressed in the book but which theme accurately frames the premise behind the Anglo-Saxons, nature or nurture? Does this theme hold true for all Anglo-Saxons in the book, why or why not?
  4. NASA Scientists have been observing solar minimum conditions since 2008 and are predicting an impending deep solar minimum period, stating that "the sun has been quieter than it has been in the last 100 years." If we match the Maunder Minimum of 1640, we are only 5 years into a 70 year solar drought. When did England (the King) first learn of the impending minimum? When did the United States? When did Gus? What signs do you see in today's world that match the attitudes of the unprepared United Sates?
  5. If only lower temperatures materialize in our world as a result of the current solar minimum, how can you prepare?
  6. The penal gland is still a great mystery to modern science but there is some evidence that the ancients understood it perhaps more than we do today. We do know that it is responsible for the production of melatonin (the internal drug that causes sleep) and that a decrease in solar activity causes it to produce less. What effect did this have in the book? What effect do you think this will have on individuals during our solar minimum and on society in general?
  7. What argument did Jess and Gus provide as to why few people today could relate with the scriptural stories and references in the Bible? Do you agree, why or why not?
  8. The mixture of arsenic and ozone in the book are responsible for all modern concrete in the world to explode. Do you think this is believable, why or why not?
  9. The descending ozone is responsible for poor crop yields 10 years into the solar minimum, which is a scientific fact, but why else would crops do poorly during a minimum period?
  10. Throughout the book Jess continually evolves from being a U.S. Senator to a priest. Did you find the transition believable? Do you agree with Jess's conclusion that dogma and denominations cause strife in the world? Is Jess's transformation sacrilegious? 
  11. In Chapter 30, Jess shares with Veronica a story about a martyred American religious leader, which is actually a true story. Do you know to whom he is referring?
  12. The book draws on several historical themes, the most pronounced in book one is the landing of Hengist and Horsa in England during the fifth century. What other true historical themes did you recognize? Were you able to discern where the author departed from the historical record?
  13. Little is known about Nicole in book one. What impact did she have on the Battle of the Thames? Whose side is she on? Based upon her name meaning can you guess her destiny?
  14. It could be argued that Veronica and Matt's relationship is one that is not meant to be. What conflicts and road blocks did you notice in book one? Do you think they are insurmountable?
  15. What minor incident happens to Matt in book one that could foretell disaster for In Spem de Mundo?
  16. The destiny of Gus and Veronica are alluded to in book one, what do you think they are?
  17. Before the Renaissance period, Western Europe was in agreement that the earth was the center of the universe and that all other heavenly bodies orbited around it, making the earth the center of God's creation. Mankind has a long history of being very myopic, thinking that we effect more or perhaps are more important that we actually are in a cosmic universe. How do you see global warming in light of this mindset? Is man truly responsible for global warming or is the earth on its own cycle?
  18. Gus's wife as well as the Queen both died of TB due to the over-use of antibiotics. How real is this problem becoming in today's world?
  19. In 2040, Toprak was well instilled within college campuses in the United States. Did you find this believable? Are there currently secret organizations operating on college campuses today?
  20. How are today's niceties of political correctness hurting the world? What are the alternatives (if any)?

# About the Author

Greg T Meyers (1964) was born in the United States and holds degrees in Marketing and Psychology but after living in London, England he became fascinated with the European medieval period and spent the last 30 years of his life studying it.

Oddly enough, Greg rarely read fiction until he stumbled upon _The Post Captain_ by Patrick O'Brien while in Panama. Being so drawn in, he read the entire 20 book series in short order and it was then he started entertaining the idea of writing a work of historical fiction himself.

When asked what got him started writing _Solar Minimum_ he said he was one day considering that everyone living today had ancestors that lived through the medieval period and that it is all a very real part of our individual past. It was then he started fantasizing what would happen if our trouble-ridden world were to plunge back into that period. "While life would certainly be harder, I think we would all be better for it spiritually," he responded.

Greg began writing _Solar Minimum_ in February of 2013 and finished all 500 odd pages in a short seven months. _Solar Minimum_ is currently proposed to be a three book series with book two due in 2014.

Greg currently lives in the Rocky Mountains with his wife Shelley.

Connect with Greg:

www.solarminimumbook.com  
Twitter: solarminbook

# Character Glossary

**Abdul Faris** – (Arabic) Knight, servant of the dark one. The harbinger assigned to the U.S. Senate.

**Afet** – (Turkish) Catastrophically beautiful. Horsa's love interest who was killed during the Russian wars.

**Aldegund** – (German) War. An employee of Toprak Esir Inc. who was killed to ensure Toprak's plans for Algeria.

**Caleb** – (English) Dog. Employee of Toprak Esir Inc. and Hengist's assistant.

**Cetanwakuwa** – (Native American) Attacking hawk. General Clancy's longtime friend.

**Corinna Durst** – (English, German) Maiden, servant, riot. Veronica's personal maid at Kensington Palace.

**Enakai** – (Hawaiian) Raging sea. Shay''s new assistant who turns out to be a harbinger.

**Geoffrey Clancy** – (English, French) Peace,red warrior. Gus's lifelong friend and four-star General in the U.S. Army.

**Hengist** – (German) Stallion. The leader and CEO of Toprak Esir Inc. and the actual name of the Anglo-Saxon general who invaded England and defeated the last of the Roman rulers in the fifth century.

**Horsa** – (German) Horse. Toprak's major general and the actual name of Hengist's brother and who helped sack England in the fifth century.

**Jedrek** – (Polish) Strong and valiant man. The Captain of the Ronnie after Warin is killed.

**Jess Erdem** – (English) Gift from God, virtue. A member of Gus's senate committee.

**Leroy Guiscard** – (English, French) The king, wise and brave. The most senior senator in 2040.

**Matthew Hector** – (English) Gift from God, hold fast A member of Gus's senate committee.

**Marshall** – (English) Servant. Maintenance worker at the U.S. Capital.

**Moran** – (Hebrew) Teacher. The King's lifelong friend and the first to discover the impending Minimum.

**Morgan** – (Irish) Fighter of the sea. The child Matthew finds in the ruins of Thetford and who saves from turning into a harbinger.

**Nicole** – (Greek) People's victory. The name is also strongly associated with the patron saint for sailors, St. Nicolas.

**Shay Naoki** – (Irish, Japanese) Gift from God, honest and straight. A member of Gus's senate committee.

**Theodore Schyuler** – (English) Gift from God, scholar. A member of Gus's senate committee.

**Veronica Paige** – (English, Italian) She who brings victory also the name of the legendary saint who wiped Jesus's face and found his imprint upon it. Gus's personal assistant at the U.S. Senate.

**Warin** – (German) Guard. Captain of the guard at Toprak Esir Inc.

**Winston** – (English) Stone. Professor at Oxford University who Gus turns to for answers about the Minimum.
