Henry Bedford’s eyes were severe and piercing, an embodiment of the force of will that had forged civilization from the post-outbreak ruins of America. This was the four-star general that everyone saw during his fiery speeches each year at Peterson, the rallies where he reminded the Directorate of all they had achieved and all they had yet to achieve. But there was age, too. The familiar sags and jowls of his face, his silver and grey hair, and beyond that, his sunken cheeks and pale skin. The vibrancy in his eyes could not hide the frailty from his time in a coma.

Alex had not visited the operations center at the heart of the Cheyenne Mountain complex since the renovations. The room resembled a giant cube. Rows of workstations occupied the floor space while monitors, keyboards, and technical manuals cluttered the desks. Above it all and hanging from the main wall were four high-definition monitors the size of movie screens. The soldiers and technicians at the computers were Directorate, but just as many NEA personnel stood behind the stations, and all of them were looking at the largest of the four primary screens and the still image of General Henry Bedford.

“Alexandra.” For an instant, Alex thought it was her father speaking from the screen. Then she realized it was General Martin, limping toward her and Webb. General Lunde followed at his side while Harrison stood alone in a corner of the room. Alex spotted Sergeant Raymond Paul sitting nearby at a terminal surrounded by a crowd of Directorate and NEA officers.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” Martin said once he arrived. “I was… very worried.”

Alex heard the break in his voice. She looked at the mask, the bland silver plate that belonged to a masquerade or Halloween party. It was so much a part of Martin she suspected he would feel naked without it. But can you blame him? she thought, recalling the small church in Washington DC, the pews, the sunlight filtering in through the stained glass windows, and Martin’s ruined face. Beyond the mask and the eyelets and the memories of his scarred flesh lay a look of intense relief. She had seen that look twice before. The first time had been from Lunde when she had woken up from her coma in Peterson’s Air Force Base’s medical center. The second, again from Lunde, during the video conversation at Topeka. But had her father ever looked at her that way?

Alex glanced up at the screen. “Is he awake? Is it him?”

“Yes,” Martin and Lunde said at once.

Lunde went on, “We’ve analyzed the transmission. It’s authentic.”

“One hundred percent!” Paul waved at Alex through a gap in the crowd. The soldiers around him turned to look. The NEA officers looked confused, undoubtedly wondering why a young woman in jeans and a sweater had become the focus for two generals, a colonel, and a loud tech sergeant. Then Paul continued, “Good to see you again, Alex!”

The din in the control room faltered and then died. Paul winced and gave Alex an apologetic look. The puzzled expressions from the NEA personnel became expressions of recognition and then fright. Alex wanted to slink back into the hallway, to find her room and crawl into a dark corner. Instead, she found herself moving closer to Martin as if he were a shield that could protect her from all the wide and frightened eyes.

They know. About Kansas City. All of them know. They must know it was me or they wouldn’t look so scared. How many of them lost friends there? Or family?

Webb broke the silence. “All of you have heard about Washington.” His voice carried across the expansive room. “I’ve heard rumors about it myself. It seems word travels fast. Word has it a ‘kinetic saved the city.”

The NEA soldiers looked from Alex to Webb. They began to nod and murmur. One officer said loudly, “I heard it was you, sir.”

“No.” The room again went silent. “It was her. Alexandra Bedford. General Bedford’s daughter.”

The soldiers’ eyes darted back to Alex, then quickly away as she looked at the crowd. Webb went on, “I’m only going to say this once. We’re here to facilitate an end to this war. Our goal is to make sure nothing like Kansas City, Washington, or New York happens again. She isn’t what you need to be worried about.” He looked up at Bedford’s image and then again at the soldiers. “Get back to work.”

The men and women slowly returned to their terminals. Alex caught additional glances from some of them, but soon, the voices and activity resumed.

Webb pointed at Bedford’s face. “Is the transmission still going out?”

Lunde nodded. “It’s being relayed through Hannibal-2 to our units across the country. Eight of our outposts ceased communications with Cheyenne Mountain following the initial transmission. I think we can assume they intend to keep fighting.”

“And what about you, General?” Webb said.

Martin cut in before Lunde could answer, “I have every confidence that General Lunde and General Harrison will work with us to resolve things peacefully.”

“That is our intention,” Lunde said.

Harrison glanced at them from his corner of the room. He looked tired, beaten, and dazed – a prizefighter defeated by an underdog. His arms, normally crossed over his broad chest, hung at his sides. She was surprised to find she felt sorry for him. Then she remembered how he had removed her from the team, sent Shepherd and the other men on a suicide mission to Fort Riley, and tried to lock her away in Cheyenne Mountain. But it wasn’t him. It was Ellzey and the Committee.

Martin’s voice interrupted her thoughts, “I had Colonel Webb bring you here so you could watch your father’s transmission. I’d like you to see it and give me your opinion. I also want you to know I’m doing all I can to keep you safe, but I’m afraid your father’s message is making that very difficult. President Resnick believes your loyalty to your father makes you a threat to us. I’m not sure how long I can protect you.”

They’re all so worried about what I’m going to do, and I can’t even do anything.

“Can I see it?” Alex said. “The transmission.”

“Yes, of course.” Martin gestured up to the tinted glass windows lining the upper half of the back wall. The offices behind those windows overlooked the operations center and offered a perfect vantage of the four main screens. Alex knew her father had often spent long days and nights in those rooms.

They went to an open stairway leading to the upper offices. Martin spoke to Harrison as they passed. “General, we’re going to review the transmission with Alexandra. Perhaps she can provide some insight.” Harrison glanced at Martin, nodded, and then looked away without speaking. Alex tried to read Harrison’s expression but it was just as vacant as Martin’s mask. At the bottom of the stairway, Martin waited for Alex, Webb, and Lunde to pass. Then the four of them climbed to the top and went through the doorway.

Lunde brought them to a conference room featuring a rectangular table and a dozen executive-style leather chairs. Widescreen television displays, some with keyboards beneath and others with phone receivers offset to the left or right, dominated the walls. Alex went to the window and looked out at the operations center. Her gaze returned to her father’s face. After all the time she had spent as his bedside, all the tears, all the short and uncertain prayers, it seemed strange that he was awake and broadcasting a message to the entire Directorate. Part of her was upset that he hadn’t tried to contact her first. But what could he have done? If he could talk to you somehow, he would… wouldn’t he?

“Alexandra.” Martin had come up to her side, the carpeting muffling the heavy step of his braced leg. She turned and found everyone looking at her. Lunde and Webb beside one of the monitors. The spinning emblem of the Directorate had disappeared, leaving the screen black.

“The recording’s ready,” Lunde said.

Alex stood by the window. There was a feeling of uncertainty, foreboding. She was no longer sure she wanted to view the transmission.

“It’s all right,” Martin said as if sensing her apprehension.

Alex went to Lunde and nodded. He pressed a button on the monitor’s keyboard. The conference room’s lights dimmed as the screen’s darkness receded to reveal her father’s face.

“Soldiers of the Directorate, this is General Henry Bedford. We stand on the brink. Last night, our homes, our friends, our families, our brothers in arms came under attack. The New England Alliance launched this assault along with forces under the command of General Park, who betrayed our mission of rebuilding this country and sided instead with the NEA and their goal of dictatorial rule. Because of this unprovoked, despicable act of betrayal, our brave men and women stationed at Peterson Air Force Base, Fort Carson, and even Cheyenne Mountain were overrun as they fought to protect Colorado Springs and its inhabitants from the NEA’s unspeakable acts of violence. We will not forget them. However, we do not have time to mourn. That will come later. Now, today, this hour, we must continue the fight in order to preserve our way of life.

“Many of you have received orders from Cheyenne Mountain to stand down and surrender. Do not follow these orders. Do not stand down. Do not disarm. Disregard all further instructions from Colorado Springs and cease communications with the mountain immediately.

“The New England Alliance would have you believe they have captured or killed our senior leadership. This is not the case. Our Executive Committee, the legitimate government of the United States of America, remains untouched. They are safe and dedicated to your survival and the defeat of our enemies. The New England Alliance would also have you believe they crushed our military and that there is no hope for resistance. This is a lie. In response to General Park’s betrayal and the refusal of the NEA to cease their unprovoked aggression and withdraw from our territory, I ordered a massive aerial attack against their command and control structure. Unlike the New England Alliance, we avoided civilian casualties and struck only military targets. Our attack was a success, and we have inflicted significant damage. However, the Directorate will not prevail unless you – our brave men and women, our soldiers – are willing to fight to expel them from the land we have worked so hard to restore.

“To all Directorate forces, the way ahead is simple. Respond on emergency channels and I will contact you with further orders. This fight will not be easy. It will not be quick. It will not be painless. But we will prevail. We have no other option. If we allow the New England Alliance to control this country, the United States of America will die. The ideas America stood for will be buried and forgotten. There will be only tyranny, oppression, and persecution. It is the Directorate, not the NEA, which represents a future free from darkness.

“This must be a day when we unite in our determination to fight for that future. We have fought and defeated enemies before and we will do so again. We must never forget this day but we shall move forward to preserve freedom and secure a bright, good, and just world for our families, our children, and ourselves.

“This is General Henry Bedford, commander of the Cheyenne Directorate. Thank you, and God be with you.”

The monitor went dark, leaving the room in shadows. Alex went to the nearest chair and sat. She did not look at Martin, Lunde, or Webb. Instead, she stared at her reflection in the surface of the conference table. “It’s the Committee. They forced him to say those things. He wouldn’t have ordered the attack on Washington. He couldn’t have. He wasn’t even awake. They’re forcing him to lie.”

“Do you believe he wants the Directorate to keep fighting?” Martin said gently.

Alex considered the question. She realized it might be possible for the Directorate to win even after the loss of Colorado Springs. There were many outposts west of the Rocky Mountains, all well-stocked with soldiers and weapons. They could win the war with assistance from the USS Ronald Reagan and its drones. It is the Directorate, not the NEA, which represents a future free from darkness. Then she thought about New York. She had dreamed of the city so many times, dreamed of walking through its streets – not the rundown, dilapidated ruins she had seen during the mission, but the teeming, glowing metropolis from pictures and movies: crowds, and cars, and lights and sounds. Life. Now, it was gone thanks to a nuclear missile from the Directorate. Her Directorate.

“No. Not after what we did to New York. He’d never have let it get this far.” She turned to Lunde. “I’m right, aren’t I? Haven’t you already told them the same thing?”

Lunde didn’t reply. She thought back to the airfield and the team’s departure two weeks earlier. That same conflicted expression had been on Lunde’s face when she had asked him about the war: Do you really think this is what Dad would have wanted? He had not replied to her question that time, either.

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“There’s something I have to tell both of you,” she said and then glanced at Webb. “I already told him, but… I can’t use my abilities. I don’t know if they’re gone or what, but they’re not working. Something happened last night. I went out there to try to stop the fighting. I was so close. Then everything just shut down. And…”

Might as well show them. They’ll find out soon enough. She stretched out her arm and rolled back her sweater sleeve. The black artery remained as prominent as before, running from the base of her palm to halfway up her forearm. Lunde and Martin leaned forward to get a better look. After a moment, Lunde took her hand and carefully ran his thumb along the bulging artery at her wrist as if expecting the darkness to smear away. When nothing happened, he let go and stepped back. He went quickly to switch on the room’s lights and then returned and again stared at her arm.

“I don’t understand,” Lunde said. “What is that?”

“Blood,” Alex said.

Martin sat next to her but did not immediately meet her gaze. Lunde continued to stand above her to one side, staring at her arm. Webb stood beside the monitor with his arms crossed. He had not spoken since their arrival in the conference room. Aside from his brief speech in the operations center, he had remained quiet and subdued during the drive from Peterson to Cheyenne Mountain and during the walk through the complex. Part of it had to be the damage from the night before, the swelling of his brain, his pale skin. But there was something else. He was no longer so smug and superior. That change had started on the roof of the White House and during the flight from Washington. It was the moment they had shared, the connection and the memories. They had seen the world through each other’s eyes. What had he seen of her life? Had any of her memories forced him to reevaluate his perspective?

She looked at Martin. His eyes were moist and wavering. His hands rested in his lap with one clenched into a fist. Webb looked at her but did not move from the screen. When Martin finally spoke, his voice was soft and hoarse, “I told you in Washington about the last time your father and I spoke.”

“I remember.”

“I’ve never stopped thinking about what he did to your mother – to Kate. After the outbreaks, I prayed you would be all right. I remember how healthy you were growing up. You caught the flu once. Kate and Henry were so worried because you never got sick, but a few days rest and you were smiling and happy again. So… after everything, Antarctica, the outbreaks… I held onto the hope that you’d be all right and that your father would take care of you and make sure that what happened to your mother… wouldn’t happen to you. But—” Martin’s voice broke off. He was trembling. Tears escaped his eyes and trickled beneath his mask to his chin where they collected and then fell to the table. He raised his good hand to the mask and covered the eyelets. He cried, “God, how did I let him do it? I should have known. How did I let him do this to you and Kate?”

She stood from the chair and put her arms around Martin. He buried his mask against her sweeter. Alex spoke softly to him, “It’s all right. I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong with me. I’m okay.”

Webb appeared at Martin’s opposite side. He and Alex exchanged a long glance. He knows it’s a lie. He saw you in Washington and in that trench last night. He knows you’re not fine. You’re not okay.

“I’m so sorry,” Martin said.

“It’s not your fault.”

A knock sounded from the conference room door, which opened to reveal General Harrison. His gazed expression had given way to a look of urgency and purpose. “Gentlemen, we’ve just…” His voice faltered once he saw Alex and Martin.

Lunde moved from the table to meet Harrison. “What is it, Alan?”

Alex let go of Martin as he turned and stood awkwardly from the seat. He hobbled to the corner of the room and stood facing the wall. Then he removed the mask, wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his coat, and then quickly returned the cover to his face. His eyes were red and swollen when he returned.

“Alan?” Lunde said again.

“Another transmission. This one isn’t an open broadcast. It’s coming here, right to the ops center.”

“Who is it?”

“General Bedford. He wants to speak with me and… General Martin.”

“What about me?” Alex said. “Does he know I’m here? Does he know I’m all right?”

“I have no idea,” Harrison said. “Now, if everyone except for General Martin could clear the room, I’ll—”

“No,” Martin said. “I’d like them to stay.”

Harrison seemed about to argue but then he brushed past Lunde and went to one of the monitors. He picked up the phone from the receiver and said, “Relay the transmission to the conference room. Cut all other feeds.”

Alex waited. Martin came up next to her and said quietly, “Thank you, Alexandra. I’m sorry about… that. It’s been a long couple of days.”

“I know,” she whispered back, unsure of how else to respond. It was still difficult for her to believe her father was in any way responsible for her mother’s death. But if you think about it, doesn’t it make sense? Do you really believe it was just the luck of the draw that you were born a ‘kinetic? Is it just coincidence that you developed those powers and that your father is the leader of the Directorate? Doesn’t it make more sense that he did something? That he’s responsible somehow? And if, so, then isn’t it possible that what Martin told you is true?

The Directorate’s emblem vanished from the screen beside Harrison. Alex held her breath. Bedford’s face resolved on the monitor. He looked the same as from the earlier transmission, with the intense look in his eyes and the unmistakable signs of age and wear on his features.

“General,” Harrison said, “I’m here with—”

“Where’s my daughter?” Bedford’s voice was gruff and agitated.

Alex moved into view of the camera atop the monitor. Harrison retreated with a dejected expression. “I’m here,” Alex said. “Dad, are you all right?”

“Alexandra.” His features softened as he let out a long breath. “Yes, I’m all right. What about you?”

“I’m okay. What’s going on? I saw your transmission. You said you ordered the attack on Washington. I was there. I saw the drones. It couldn’t have been you. You were—”

“You were in the city?” Bedford’s eyes shifted and glared off-screen. “How? Why?”

“I was in Kansas when General Park… went to the NEA. They took me prisoner. General Martin brought me to Washington to see President Resnick. I was in the White House when the drones attacked.”

“I see,” Bedford said.

“But it wasn’t you who ordered the attack, right?”

Bedford said nothing.

“And what about New York?”

“None of that matters, Alexandra. The only thing that matters is that you’re safe.” He paused and then said in a voice suddenly less confident, less certain, “John, are you there?”

“Yes,” Martin said and stepped into view beside Alex.

Neither of them spoke for a long time. Her father’s eyes were searching as if trying to read the expressionless mask of his old friend.

“It’s been a while,” Bedford said finally. “Sixteen years.”

“You’ve changed, Henry.”

Bedford looked taken aback. “We’ve all changed. None of us would have survived this long if we hadn’t.” He paused and then shook his head. When he continued, his voice was cold. “I need you to listen to me closely, John. I want Alexandra. You’re going to make sure she gets to me safely. I think you know where I’m going. You get her to McMurdo Station. The strip at Williams Field will be clear by the time you arrive. If I don’t have word that she’s on her way within three days, I’m going to order another nuclear attack against one of your cities. If that still doesn’t convince your… president, I’ll launch another missile every twenty-four hours until the seven-day deadline. At that point, John, God help you and your alliance.”

Alex could not believe that she was hearing her father correctly. “D-Dad… what are you—”

“Alexandra, I know you have doubts about what we’ve done, but please trust me. There have been very legitimate reasons for everything. You’ll understand soon. I promise I’ll tell you everything.”

“I’m not going to let what happened to Kate happen to Alexandra,” Martin said. “You’ve hurt your daughter enough, Henry. What more do you want?”

“Don’t talk to me about Kate,” Bedford snarled. “If you cared about her, if you had any idea, you would be right here with me. You wouldn’t have tossed everything away when I gave you the chance to make a difference.”

“You killed her and almost every single person on this planet. You damned yourself and you damned me. You won’t take Alexandra with you.”

The sudden anger in Bedford’s eyes made Alex retreat from the screen. His face was flushed red and he was shaking. He was a volcano on the verge of erupting. Then all of it went away. Bedford looked briefly outside the screen’s frame and then back at them. “Alan, Gene, are you here?”

“Yes, sir,” Harrison said as he and Lunde came forward.

“Both of you know we have nuclear assets at our outposts west of the Springs. I expect you to make it clear to the NEA’s leadership that those assets can be deployed independently of Cheyenne Mountain or Peterson’s command and control. I will make sure that every single one of those missiles, bombs, and shells hits the East Coast unless my daughter is brought to me.”

“I understand, sir,” Harrison said. “We’ll do what it takes.”

Lunde stared at the screen but said nothing.

“Good luck, gentlemen,” Bedford said. “And, Alexandra… I— I love you. Stay safe. I’ll see you soon.”

“Dad…” she said but the screen went black.

Webb turned to Harrison and Lunde. “We have to find those weapons. You know where they are. You agreed to turn over your arsenal. I want those locations. Every single outpost and exactly what’s there. If they’ve sided with Bedford, we’ll take them out.”

Harrison shook his head. “They’ll have orders to launch as soon as you hit the first outpost.”

“I don’t care! We’ll hit them all once then! We can’t let him hold this country hostage! You people let him destroy New York! Are you going to let him wipe out the entire East Coast?”

“Aaron, this isn’t our decision to make,” Martin said. “I need to contact President Resnick. He’ll decide what to do.”

“I’ll go to Antarctica,” Alex said. “If you’re worried about me, well… don’t be. He’s my dad. He won’t hurt me. I can take care of myself.”

“I’m afraid it won’t be that simple,” Martin sighed.

Of course, Alex thought, it never is.

---

Alex and Webb left the operations center. The din from inside faded once the doors shut behind them. Martin, Lunde, and Harrison remained in the conference room, convening a meeting to discuss her father’s latest transmission. Alex suspected they would soon call her back to question her about her abilities, her intentions, and her thoughts about her father’s demands. And it would most likely be President Resnick asking those questions. For a moment, she saw the hatred and anger in his eyes as left the White House bunker and boarded the helicopter for Massachusetts. Lock her up! I want her secure! Do what it takes, General!

They paused in the empty hallway as Webb looked around to get his bearings. To someone who had only been inside the complex once before and during a firefight at that, Cheyenne Mountain would feel like a labyrinth. For her, though, it was home, the place where she had grown up – perhaps with a new coat of paint and new smells and sounds thanks to the renovations, but still something as familiar as her own reflection. Except as she glanced at her wrist and the black artery, she realized the complex, just like her reflection – her own body – no longer felt quite the same.

And what about New York?

None of that matters, Alexandra.

Her father’s words were so casual and unconcerned. An entire city, the bright, beautiful prize that had always waited at the end of the long tunnel to bringing the country back from the darkness, was gone. And he had dismissed the incident as if he had merely crushed an insect beneath his boot.

You killed her and almost every single person on this planet. You damned yourself and you damned me. You won’t take Alexandra with you.

The Directorate was supposed to be a force of good. Their mission was to build, not destroy. The military existed to protect them from the lawlessness beyond their borders and from people who wanted to keep the world a dark and dangerous place. That belief had motivated her to work hard to develop her abilities, to join the team, and to do whatever it took to bring back the United States. But with one missile, one explosion brighter and hotter than the sun, it was all gone.

How could Dad say those things? How he could threaten to destroy more cities? Is it just because he has to look strong? Is the Committee forcing him to do it? But then a worse thought came: Is it because that’s how he really feels? Maybe you have been on the wrong side. You’re only just seeing it now when it’s already too late.

Except this isn’t the first time you’ve seen it. The attack on Washington, the team getting sent off on that suicide mission, that work camp in Topeka. And what Martin told you in New York. Maybe even the George Washington Bridge. It’s all been there. You just couldn’t put it all together until now. Could you? If you had tried…?

Alex realized Webb was staring at her. How long had she been standing absently in the middle of the hall? She found it strange to be so close to Webb, side-by-side in the same corridors through which she had pursued him two months earlier. The chase had ended with a bullet in her chest. She had almost died, choking on her own blood before losing consciousness in the cold darkness of the blast tunnel. And the last thing she had held onto was Captain Ryan Shepherd. He and the Echo were the two things that remained untarnished in her mind. Even if everything she knew about the Directorate was a lie, it didn’t change that she had been – was – a part of the team. The men were her friends, and one of them, Shepherd, something more than that.

“Colonel,” Alex said, the first time she had addressed him by his rank. “What’s going to happen to Captain Shepherd and my team?”

“It’s not my decision.”

“What about Nicole?”

“Why did you and Serrano come to Fort Riley alone?”

“To rescue my team.”

“Obviously. I want to know why it was only the two of you. I can see Serrano conducting a mission like that, but not you. The Directorate wouldn’t have sent you without additional support.”

“You think we couldn’t have managed it?”

“You killed thirteen men during your escape. That’s evidence enough that you did manage it. I asked General Park the same question I’m asking you. Apparently, you and Serrano conducted that operation against orders. You broke out of here and stole an Osprey. Is that true?”

Alex nodded.

“So, something significant must have happened to make you do that, to disobey orders and hijack a military aircraft. And that brings up another question: If the Directorate’s top two ‘kinetics were willing to try and rescue your team, why didn’t you have support? Why did you have to go against orders? Why wasn’t General Harrison willing to conduct the mission?”

“I don’t know.” It was a lie. She didn’t want Webb to know that Harrison or the Committee had sent the team out to die. Moreover, she realized, it was because she was ashamed of the Directorate.

“I think you do know. Your leadership was taking care of loose ends. I read your propaganda message for Kansas City. Your name never comes up. No surprise. You give us the blame. But I wonder what would happen if your people knew the truth?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to understand what kind of people run the Directorate. There’s something else, too. I don’t think you realize the extent General Martin has risked himself to keep you alive. President Resnick ordered him to Washington after your… after Kansas City. Resnick wanted you killed if we found you. How do you think it sounded when General Martin insisted we take any measures necessary to bring you in without hurting you? Two thousand of our soldiers gone and he put his career on the line to protect you.”

Alex was silent. You should have listened to him in New York. Martin tried to tell you everything, but you didn’t believe him. You couldn’t believe him.

“Would you like to see them?” Webb said.

“What?”

“Your team. Captain Shepherd.”

“You’ll take me to them?”

“General Martin thinks it would be a good idea if you were at Peterson right now.”

“Isn’t he going to be talking to President Resnick? What if—”

“Do you want to see them or not?” Webb said.

“Of course.”

But there’s something he isn’t telling you, her voice warned.

“You… live here? Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said hesitantly.

“Is there anything you want to have with you before we go?”

“We’ll be coming back, won’t we?”

Webb didn’t reply.