"And then we look at this one?" The imperial marshal pointed to another camera feed. It showed hundreds of civilians walking through the Fortaleza grid terminal. Crowds weaved through each other as everyone headed to their destinations.

Alex recognized two who walked past the view like any other traveling pair. Christof had changed from his military uniform. The woman wore the same ratty clothes, because why bother changing? The police were looking out for her skin.

"And, here. This is where it happens." The marshal switched to a feed showing the security checkpoint. Christof and Zauna got into a security line. Several guards looked right at Christof. A few moved closer, but all lost momentum. By the time the two were through, several guards were clustered close enough to snatch them, but half weren't even watching. Only one seemed to notice; he raised his hand helplessly to catch them, but as though his depth perception were off, he didn't come close. Afterward, he and the guards returned to work.

"And you're saying all those guards had glyph cards?"

"In some form or another. A lot of agencies have been encouraging them, at least until regulation comes down from above."

"And yet none of the guards stopped them..."

The marshal spoke casually. "Looks like a slip up with administration. This was pretty far from our search area. The guards weren't on high alert for the fugitives."

"No. Look, right there. Right. There." Alex zoomed the feed in on a bulletin by the security checkpoint. The resolution was low, but Alex had seen enough of the wanted posters to recognize Christof and Zauna's face. "Those are the alerts."

"Yes." The marshal shook his head as though he couldn't believe it himself. "Terminal security claim they did alert them, but the guards all insist that they were never informed about the manhunt."

"Of course they did," because they all had their god damn memories erased. "What flight did they take?"

"They took the night shuttle to Lisbon Airport. We're not sure where they went from there. We're still trying to get footage sent over. Nobody remembers seeing them." The marshal straightened. "We still got a good shot at catching them. Spain is on high alert now. Actually, the fugitives may have screwed themselves by going there. The grid only extends to Madrid. After that, they're on roads, and our military presence is still strong there. All they've done is hopped to a much smaller haystack."

The marshal continued listing possible ways Christof could try to escape. Car. Plane. Boat. Ferry. Even swimming. He never mentioned that damn orbiter plane that landed in Austria last night. Christof could have gotten there in time. Maybe the marshal had caught the same forgetful flu that was going around, or if he was just trying to mollify Alexander. The man had a shield now, so Alex couldn't rely on his usual method of sensing bullshit.

The marshal continued. "We've got men headed out to Portugal now who should be there in few hours. We'll know for sure how they left. Unless they took a connecting flight immediately, which we're pretty sure they didn't, then—"

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

"Get out," Alex said.

"Ma'am?"

"Just get the fuck out of my office."

The marshal hesitated. It was disgusting how obviously the man wanted so much to stay and make this right. With as much Sympathy as Alex had basted him in, Alex could probably shoot him, and he'd thank Alex for the opportunity to make amends. It took all the fun out of it.

"Go. Now."

"Yes, ma'am." The marshal headed for the door.

Four people remained in Alex's office. Sibyl stood behind him, Wyatt had escorted the marshal here, and one other.

"So," said Wyatt, "looks like that memory chick got to them."

Alex smiled thinly. Wyatt had just come closer to dying than the marshal had.

"You think she's with Victoria now?" Wyatt asked.

"No, Wyatt. I think the memory chick helped lead them to a holiday in the Spanish countryside."

Wyatt frowned. He wouldn't parse the sarcasm on his own.

"Yes," Alex snapped. "She's with Victoria."

He'd hoped that Christof wouldn't stoop to making a deal with that bitch, Katherine. Everything else could have been forgivable. Trying to run away with that glyph breaker girl was typical Christof, always sentimental. Even trying to kill Alex was understandable. God knows how many times they'd all wanted to kill each other over the centuries. Alex would have still executed Christof if he ever caught him, but he wouldn't have enjoyed it much.

"If they're all on that one ship though," Wyatt said, "just means they'll all die at once."

"Wyatt. Shut up."

"Sorry, boss."

Except Wyatt was right. If one ship blew up, all his problems would go away, but it just wouldn't happen. His ministry hemmed and hawed every time he mentioned nuclear weapons. They insisted on looking into non-nuclear ways of destroying the orbiter, except such a way didn't readily exist. Repulse-propelled rockets would suffer the same problem of catching up to an orbiter that the interceptors had, and all the older jet-fuel rockets laying around weren't sophisticated enough to stand any chance bypassing an orbiter's defenses, so they were no good either.

It was enough to drive Alex ballistic. He'd usurped Sakhr only three days ago, and he'd already inherited the man's same hangups.

Alex had to calm down and think. He was in control. He owned this empire. Everyone within a square mile would give their life for him. All other problems were solving themselves. Take the threats of succession from the PRC: the Chinese leaders was visiting tomorrow. Those problems would evaporate as soon as Alex saw them face to face. Those riots in India? It just happened that key players from New Delhi were arriving next week. After Victoria was gone, he'd visit all the unstable countries, one after another. He'd stand on the deck of his citadel and look down on them all with his own eyes. How could anyone riot when they adored their world leader?

Would it be time consuming? Sure. But he would only have to do it once. Soon, crowds would come from around the world to bask in his splendor. They'd bring their children. It'd become self perpetuating after a while. No more wars. No conflicts. No rebellions. There'd only be Alexander.

And it's not like Victoria could easily attack him. Nearly everyone was shielded now. Christof had failed to take Alex's glyph breaker, and now no one could. He kept her close now, all bundled up like a Christmas present. Not only that, but Quentin's little project was coming along down in the lower decks. Things were far from lost. All he needed to do was to destroy Victoria as absolutely as he could. And the army boys promised those missiles would be ready in a few days at most. Orbiters were standing by with all their pilots shielded. There was one more thing he could do though. A small thing, but every edge would count.

"Wyatt," he said.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Who's the guy I talk to in order to make an announcement to the world? Is it one of those ministers?"

"I'm not sure."

"Go find out."