Chapter 7

EARLIER THAT DAY

--ROGER--

"Right this way sir."

Roger walked into a dim, rectangular conference room, lit by a screen on the far end of the wall, and a white light beam above the long table in the middle of the room. The walls were a dark green, which seemed gray in the lighting. Black, untextured carpet contrasted the echoey, reflective tile from just outside the door. Politicians filed in, guided by Secret Service agents. Roger's stomach was in his throat, and by the looks of it, he wasn't alone in that. The politicians wore pale faces, some with droplets of sweat peppering their foreheads. He clutched his folder to his side, his clammy hands starting to dampen the paper. Roger scanned the room, and most avoided making eye contact with each other. Rayshe wasn't there yet.

"Please take a seat sir," Roger was startled by a voice behind him. A man in a black suit with an earpiece placed a hand on his shoulder, his other gesturing towards the nearest seat. "The President will be here shortly." He nervously grabbed the back of the chair, pulling it back. Roger took one last look around the room before sitting down, setting his portfolio on the table before him. He began awkwardly looking around. By now, everyone was seated. An uncomfortable silence held the space.

"Psst."

The man next to him whispered. Roger barely turned towards him, looking at him from the corner of his eyes.

"What's in your folder?" he asked him. Roger looked at him with a confused expression, neglecting to answer.

"Are you providing anything to the brief?" the man asked. Roger held his look at him. "I have nothing in mine. Empty," he said as he effortlessly lifted his folder by the corner, demonstrating its weightlessness.

"I wasn't instructed on what to provide," the man continued. Roger furrowed his eyebrows, unsure of what to say to him. "What are you? Department of Defense? Secretary?"

Roger swallowed the lump that had been stuck in his throat for the last half hour. "CIA. Director of, actually."

"My apologies, I should've known that," he said insincerely. He leaned closer to him, getting up to his ear to whisper even quieter. "Mind if I join in on your brief? Just help me out here once. I promise I'll pay. Just name a number."

Roger looked at him surprised. The man, as if unaware of what he said, gave him a confused look in response. Before he could answer, the door to the conference room suddenly swung open. Standing firmly in the frame was Rayshe. His black hair was lathered with product and slicked back. The dim light shadowed his narrow face; his prominent bone structure shadowed his skin. He took a quick look around the room and put his hands together tightly.

"Well good afternoon, everyone," Rayshe said. His chipper demeanor contrasted the mood of the conference. His introduction was met with silence.

"Good afternoon..." he said again louder. The audience then reciprocated his greeting subduedly.

"That's better," he said as he began towards the front of the room next to the screen, which was currently a blank, blue background with the U.S.S. crest in the middle. Rayshe stood in front of the screen and faced the conference of nervous cohorts. His hands were still clasped together, holding them just below his chest.

"Before we begin," Rayshe said, "I'd like to thank all of you for being here today. I know the circumstances of my coming of office are less than ideal, but I am very excited for what we can accomplish together." Rayshe had an obnoxious grin on his face. The conference subtly glanced at one another, neglecting to respond.

"I'm no stranger to how this goes," Rayshe continued. "I sit here, you tell me... whatever it is you need to tell me, add my little two cents then we call it a day." The room remained silent. "But I've decided to operate this a little differently." Roger looked down at his portfolio; he had spent all of the last two days preparing it for this meeting.

Rayshe stepped towards the table, leaning over it, placing both his hands flat against the glass surface.

"Let's just stop pretending we don't see the elephant in the room. Regis had orchestrated a court with Boreas. They arrive in two weeks." He paused, fiercely staring at each member to convey the importance of the situation. His eyes locked Roger's, sending a chill down his spine. "This could not be more critical of an event for this country, and this meeting will only concentrate on our course of action with this." Rayshe said firmly. "If this displeases anyone... See yourself out," he said while gesturing towards the door. Nobody moved.

"Good," he said, standing up straight. "Regis did good in bringing the people of Boreas here. He was a good man, may God rest his soul," Rayshe spoke. "His intentions were right... but his methods were misplaced." Anxiousness gripped the air; some began to realize what Rayshe was working towards.

"We're dying people. Dying, with nobody to blame but ourselves," Rayshe said as he began to pace the front of the room. He stopped in front of a wall, gently placing his hand flat against it, as if he was feeling its emotions. "She doesn't have much left in her. She didn't even before that war. Now we've poisoned her to hell and back." He said while staring at the wall. His hand gently slid off and returned to his side as he faced the politicians once again.

"How many of you want to save the world?" Rayshe said, raising an eyebrow while scanning the pale faces before him. They nervously glanced around, unsure of what to do.

"That wasn't rhetorical. Let me see some hands," he said, raising his hand in demonstration. The rest timidly followed, none raising their hand any higher than their head.

"Everyone. Good." Rayshe lowered his hand, putting both in his pockets and resuming his pacing.

"A lion backed into a corner will do anything to survive," he began. "We are that lion. We." He said while pointing to his chest. "We must do anything and everything we can to survive. For the sake of all our sons and daughters, so that they may have a good life to look forward to. Earth can't provide that good life anymore." Rayshe maintained his pace while the rest looked on.

"Boreas. Beautiful. Beautiful world. They have all the food you would ever need for hundreds of years. All the technology you would ever need. They could make the human lifespan 150 years long. Hell, they could even start to heal our planet. Bring us back to the good ole' days." Rayshe went on. "But they won't. This... is where Regis was wrong. They won't, and they never will." Rayshe stopped his pace, looking up to address the meeting. "Does anybody know why?" The same awkward glances that had been shared ten times over happened once again as no one could work up the courage to speak.

"Because they are selfish. They are selfish, and none better than us. If we want to save our planet, we must be unselfish. That starts with making the hard choices. The lion wouldn't think twice about making the hard choices if it meant saving his tribe. Remember, we are that lion. No... I am that lion." He said while forming a fist. "And I am going to make that hard choice to save my tribe. But I am going to need your help, everyone's help. The whole country, the world." Rayshe regained his pace.

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"It's time we looked back to our forefathers and studied how they created this great nation. From sea to shining sea... manifest destiny. Our destiny is being delivered to us on a silver platter. The silver platter being a portal that is soon to open on our front lawn." Roger's foot bounced rapidly. Rayshe couldn't be crazy enough to invade another planet he thought to himself.

"When that day comes in two weeks, we need to be ready." Rayshe stated firmly, staring at the ground with his fist clenched. "We must-"

"You want to invade another world?" a man spoke out. Rayshe looked up, aggravated. Roger's eyes shot open, shocked from not the bravery, but the stupidly of the man who would dare speak against Rayshe.

"Who said that?" Rayshe asked. Roger prayed the man would reveal himself, to spare the rest of them from the anguish of Rayshe's investigation.

"I did." To Roger's wishes, the man announced himself, raising a hand to supplement it.

"It's not an invasion, my friend. It's survival." Rayshe answered surprisingly calmly.

"We can't destroy another world. That's crazy," the man continued his rebuttal. "We have the data that says we can recover. We don't need to kill God knows how many innocent people. We can't do this. I won't stand by it." Rayshe stared blankly at the man, his unbothered demeanor was almost frightening.

"So you'd rather we die. Is that what you're saying?" he asked.

"Absolutely not, but if it means massacring another race, stealing their food, resources, their way of life... I just can't stand for that."

Rayshe nodded slowly, then began towards where the man was seated. He approached him and gently put his hand on his shoulder. "What's your name son?"

"Z-Zimmer," the man stuttered, his wind of confidence started to falter.

"Zimmer... What is that? A last name, first name?"

"Uh... first. First name."

"First name," Rayshe said with a somewhat disappointed tone. "Zimmer." He said while holding a strong gaze.

"That is a terrible fucking name." The man looked at him, extremely confused.

"Get out." Zimmer blinked rapidly while Rayshe stared bullets at him.

"Zimmer. Get out." Rayshe repeated. Zimmer slowly got up from his chair. The silence in the room was deafening as he looked at everyone else in embarrassment. His head hung low as we exited the door that was held open for him by a secret service agent, that swiftly closed behind him. The attention turned back to Rayshe, who stood still.

"Would anyone else like to join Zimmer in getting the fuck out of my meeting?" Everyone remained planted. Rayshe turned back towards the front of the room to resume his pacing.

"Let me be clear. This is not an invasion. This is not a desire for bloodlust. If there was another way to save our home, I would do it. Everything I do, I do for us. Our people. And our planet. Nations were conquered and destroyed for less. Civilizations were sacked and destroyed for fun. Empires rolled over and pillaged for the thirst for power. There is no greater cause than to save ourselves. Survival of the fittest has been and still is the way of life. Everyone's just become blinded to the harsh reality that is the universe because they've become so fucking weak and lazy letting other people do the dirty work so their hands stay clean. We didn't become the greatest country in the world because it just happened to be that way. There is no invisible hand that drew the lines and gave us our land. There is no invisible hand that stops our enemies from taking it. There is no invisible hand that provides us the shelter and sustenance for survival. Boreas is just as likely to come through their portal and destroy us without batting an eye. What we are doing here is not the work of evil but the burden of the strong." Rayshe finished. He stopped and surveyed the space, gritting his teeth.

"Am I clear?" he asked.

"Absolutely sir. As a matter of fact. I fully agree." The man that sat next to Roger spoke up suddenly.

"Look here," Rayshe said while holding out an open palm towards him. "We finally have someone who understands." The man next to Roger grinned hard. "I like you sir. I'll find you when this is over, we'll talk." The man leaned back in his chair, satisfied with himself, leaving Roger to contemplate if he should play along with the charade for his own good.

"Now that we are on the same page, what we need to do is prepare our offensive for Boreas's arrival in two weeks," Rayshe said. He then turned to Roger and made eye contact. Fear shot through his body as Rayshe had full attention on him.

"Roger," he said to him. "As our studious director of intelligence, could you please inform our conference about the key? You prepared to talk about it, right?" All eyes turned to Roger as his hands shook below the table. He did prepare, and it was all in his portfolio. He internally gathered himself as he lifted his hands off his lap and opened the folder. His hands felt cold and struggled to accurately sort the papers.

"The key..." Roger cleared his throat. "The key is believed to be an artifact that unlocks a power..." His voice was shaking and his mouth was bone dry.

Rayshe motioned his hand in the circle to signal Roger to continue. "Let's be a little more descriptive here."

Roger recentered himself as he went on. "The key is a combination of three separate pieces. They are hidden in multiple parts of the world, and it is believed that when all three are located and combined, it will reveal the location to an unrelenting power that has been stowed away."

"That's right. The key to our survival is the key. With that, we will be able to fight the (name)s and secure our future." Rayshe added. "I have taken the liberty of searching for one on my own. Which I found." As he said this, he pressed the screen behind him and displayed a picture of the key piece. It was a golden, jagged obtuse triangle piece with streaks of speckled silver through it. It illuminated with a sort of essence that was even difficult to look at through a picture.

"I found this on the side of a mountain in Nepal." Rayshe said as he looked at it in fascination. "Each piece should look like this one. And together," he tapped the screen again, switching the picture to a prototype rendering of what the completed key should look like. Each piece combined at the long side of their triangle, forming an arrowhead appearance. "They should look like this."

Roger stared at the display of the key. His mind raced off into the endless possibilities that were only two short weeks away. A war of massive proportions, even bigger than the one that just gripped the world. He saw destruction, the death of another race. Or perhaps the death of his own. He shuttered at the idea of a man as powerful as Rayshe wielding whatever the key may lead to. He would be unstoppable. It was this that made him somewhat happy that he didn't have a family. No-one to worry about, no-one to have to suffer a painful death. Regardless of Rayshe with the unrelenting force, he still wouldn't be able to fight Boreas on his own. This would be a worldwide offensive, and no one would be spared from their "duties".

"I am not sure where the other pieces may be, but I am sure I can find out using the one we already have." He tapped the screen once again, this time showing a massive building. It looked like a factory, built onto the side of a mountain. The white, snow-covered rock was accented with the steel machination. A massive wall surrounded the compound, with smokestacks standing on the top of the building like chimneys, billowing black air into the sky. A train track was carved into the façade of the mountain, which led into the walls.

"This here is the research facility I built at the pieces' location. The key piece on its own is so great that it powers the building on its own. I had this built under the disguise as a weather monitoring point. I had to, unfortunately. Regis wouldn't have let me chase my ambition," Rayshe said sinisterly. "Now imagine what all three pieces could lead us to..." he trailed off, as if distracted in his admiration for his work. He turned around to face the room once again.

"The reason why I tell you this is because this is now our absolute priority. All efforts and resources are going into finding the other two pieces. I want all of you to pull all the strings you have and all the contacts you can find. We are conducting a manhunt. You have two weeks."

Rayshe folded his hands together behind his back as he glanced around. The politicians mumbled to themselves as processed their new mission.

"Any questions?" Rayshe asked. He looked around as none took him up on his offer.

"Alright then," Rayshe said as he made one singular clap of his hands. "Get working."

The members of the meeting seized the opportunity, rising from their chairs and swiftly exiting.

"Stay for a moment, Roger," Rayshe said just as Roger made it to the door. He stepped back from the door frame, gripping his folder tightly with both his hands as the room emptied. Rayshe slowly approached, staying quiet while he let the others leave. Once the last politician made his exit, Rayshe closed the gap, standing in front of Roger.

"Do me a favor, would you?" he started. "When you get home tonight, scrounge up whatever kind of data you got. Files, portfolios, all of it."

"All of it?" Roger asked shakily.

"All of it. Everything," Rayshe clarified as he put a hand on Roger's shoulder. "Empty out your safes, I'm going to have some people come over and..." he paused as he titled his head, trying to find the right word. "Take care of it," he said finally with a smirk.

Roger shook his head quickly. "Ok. I can do that."

"Good. I appreciate that," Rayshe responded. He lifted his hand off his shoulder and gestured towards the door. Roger turned and restarted his trip out. He made eye contact with the agent that stood by the exit. He subtly nodded his head in acknowledgement.

"Have a good night, Mr. Fuld."