Epilogue
ETHAN
ETHAN WELLINGTON STOOD on the steps of the U.S. Capitol Building.
A crowd of several thousands...likely tens of thousands...flooded down the steps and into the parkway below, filling every empty space for as far as his physical eyes could see. He saw them standing on streetlamp bases, on curbs, in the street, on the grass. They filled every spot not taken up by another physical object, or cordoned off by the legion of secret service and military who blanketed over half the city in the wake of the President’s assassination.
The vast majority of those in the crowd were human, of course.
Still, he’d received well-wishes from several of the seers’ delegations prior to his arrival for the ceremony, as well. They apologized for their inability to come in person, but Ethan understood better than anyone why no recognizable seer would be safe on the streets of DC today, or perhaps the streets of any major city in the United States.
Three weeks had passed since his friend Daniel Caine had died.
Since the assassin had been identified as a seer who did contract work with the Chinese, as well as who had been involved in terrorist attacks in Europe and the Middle East, the country had been in an uproar.
Still, fear and hysteria had their uses.
The Chief Justice of the Supreme Court stood opposite him now, wearing full dress robes. She had only been newly appointed to the role, in the wake of the mysterious death of her predecessor, and since she was new also to the Court itself, the appointment had surprised a number of people. It broke protocol for an Associate Justice to rise to the top spot so quickly, but no one seemed willing to question precisely how it had happened, either. Of course, it would have surprised people even more to know that she wasn’t the same person who had been appointed to the Court the year previous.
The few who knew her well now all appeared to be unavailable for comment, however...one more advantage to the image ban in place for all public figures.
A few well-planned eliminations, some reconstructive surgery and a number of more thorough mind wipes and re-patternings, and no one asked any more questions.
Ethan approved the action.
Hell, it had been his idea.
Few in his inner circle even questioned it. Then again, that circle had grown smaller in the past weeks as well, by necessity as much as design.
On one thing they all agreed, civilians and government alike. The country needed to be in firm hands right now.
When the Chief Justice looked up, Ethan smiled, meeting the older woman’s eyes.
Hey doc, he thought at her with his human mind. What’s up?
Xarethe’s expression did not flicker.
“Sir,” she said. “Please raise your right hand.”
Ethan did as he was told. His left hand, which still poked from the end of a dark blue sling, the color of which perfectly matched his suit, he placed on a King James Bible.
The Chief Justice, in her outdated glasses, flashed the slightest bit of warning from her lizard-like eyes. All trace of the German accent evaporated when she said,
“Are you prepared to take the Oath, Mr. Vice President?”
Ethan glanced out over the crowd as they burst into cheers of ecstatic applause. He’d broken a conspiracy in the heart of the White House, even tried to save Caine’s life as he lay dying on the conference room rug. The applause grew more frenetic, more emotional. It was amazing how quickly they forgot.
But humans always loved a good story.
“I am,” he said. “...Ready, that is.”
She smiled, raising her right hand. “Very well, sir. Please repeat after me...”
He only half-listened as he intoned the phrases after she spoke them.
His eyes scanned faces in his nearer audience, where his wife, Helen, stood by a little girl in a purple dress with a stuffed white rabbit clutched to her chest. The rabbit was brand new, its fur gleaming a pristine white. The little girl gazed up at him, oblivious to the screams and cheers of the people flooding the steps below the balcony below her. Her small body remained entirely erect, dwarfed among the crush of staffers, family and Justices on that higher platform, along with the Speaker of the House and members of his Cabinet, cushioned on either end by a generous array of Secret Service agents.
“I cannot believe he wanted to do this outside,” the Secretary of State muttered to Ethan’s right, within the girl’s earshot.
The Secretary of Defense stood beside him, wearing a navy uniform covered in medals. She smiled, flipping back long, dark, mahogany-colored hair.
“It plays well for the press,” she said. “Especially with him injured.”
“Do we know yet, who is responsible?”
Her well-formed lips curled a little. “The same fringe group Caine was working with, we think. Wellington’s already declared war. Of course, it won’t be official until tonight.”
The Secretary of Defense’s eyes flashed a pale yellow as she glanced over the crowd, pausing to wink at the little girl before she smiled at Ethan.
“Caine did us a favor,” she added, giving the other man a disparaging look. “If nothing else, it is clear now, what we must do to survive.”
“Really?” The Secretary of State said. “...And just what is that, Jarvesch?”
“Exterminate the enemy,” she said. “Before they are strong enough to do it to us.”
Beyond them, Ethan Wellington continued to speak into the small but powerful microphone, using the words that would make him the next President of the United States.
“...will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office in which I am about to enter,” he said forcefully.
“So help me, God,” the Justice prompted, her hard eyes smiling faintly.
The crowd erupted behind him in emotional cheering. The feed cameras ran, capturing faces and waving hands, tears wiped from the eyes of watching humans, banners waving back and forth as Ethan gazed out over the Washington Monument.
In the distance, tanks could be seen parked at either end of the mall.
Jets flashed in the sunlight overhead.
He had made it, in spite of everything.
He had reached for it, and he had finally made it.
Ethan smiled, and the cheering grew louder still, more emotional.
“...So help me, God,” he said.
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