part0026

He closed his eyes again. The light on the temple of the data glasses stopped, then started again a few seconds later. Whoever it was, they were calling back.

Graves fumbled for the glasses, blinking as the screen popped up before his eyes. He scanned to accept the message.

A trim young woman wearing an Air Force uniform looked relieved when he answered. “General Graves, please stand by for the president.”

The screen went blank for another second, then Teller’s face popped into view. “General, sorry about the late hour.”

Despite the apology, Teller was still dressed as if he hadn’t been to bed yet. He wore a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, and looked freshly shaved. Any injuries he’d sustained in the UN attack were either healed or hidden by cosmetics. The man had been extraordinarily lucky. The UN secretary-general who’d been sitting next to him was dead.

“What can I do for you, sir?” Graves said. He knew he did not look anywhere near as well turned out and he felt at a disadvantage for it.

“I have a meeting with Anthony Taulke at the UN headquarters at nine sharp tomorrow morning.”

Graves sat up straighter. “He’s okay? I haven’t heard anything.”

“Apparently he’s fine, according to his son. He wants to see where the attack took place for himself. Hear about these Neo nutjobs that tried to take him out.”

“Is that a good idea, Mr. President? The people who did it were all killed in the FBI raid. We don’t really know why they did it or what they were trying to achieve. And why the UN building? The place is still a crime scene.”

Teller sighed. “All good questions, Graves, and you can put them to the man himself when you see him. He asked for you—by name—to be there.”

“Sir, I—”

“Stow it, General. You will be at the UN building tomorrow at nine with Corazon Santos.”

“What does Cora have to do with this, sir?”

Teller frowned for a split second at Graves’s use of the familiar name. “Don’t know. He’s insisted you and she be there to meet him.” The president made no attempt to hide his disdain for the meeting. “He’s the boss, General. Yours and mine—at least that’s how it is now. Are we clear about meeting logistics, General? Any issues I should know about beforehand?”

Graves shook his head. “I’ve given all my updates to H, sir. I’m happy to answer any specific questions you might have—”

“That’ll be all, then, General. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

Graves’s screen went blank again. He snatched the glasses off his face and threw them on the bedside table. He didn’t need this kind of aggravation. He was a fifty-year-old—fifty-one, he remembered—one-star general who was never going to get a second star. He was resented by his peers because he’d been promoted over them and now all but ostracized by the very guy who’d promoted him in the first place.

He clenched his eyes shut. If his career was a dead end, his personal life was a wasteland. He was alone, living in a converted office next to his real office, with no opportunity to meet women, no real friends to speak of, and no family still living.

He faced the facts: he was a committed workaholic in the dead-end job of trying to save the citizens of a planet that didn’t really want to be saved. If there was a definition of insanity online, his picture should be next to it.

Graves looked at his watch and did some quick mental math. If he went back to sleep right now, he could get another two hours. He slammed his head back into his pillow and closed his eyes.

Who was he trying to fool? He was way too worked up now to think of sleeping. With a sigh of exasperation, Graves threw off the covers and used the intercom to call down to the duty sergeant to send up a pot of coffee. He showered quickly and dressed, studying his reflection as he combed his hair.

He wasn’t a bad-looking guy. He supposed he could date if he wanted to, but he just never made it a priority beyond a few casual flings. He paused. There was always Olga Rodchenkov. When she’d come to see him during the California wildfire recovery effort—he made a grimace when he realized he marked all the events in his life by disasters—there’d been a spark there. He’d felt it and was pretty sure she had too.

The smile faded from his face as he recalled what she had been there to see him about and his hand went to the Saint Christopher medal. A cadre of like-minded officers, she’d said. People, citizens of the world, who want to make a difference. She’d tried to recruit him to join some crazy military coup. Granted, after the events of the last few weeks, it sounded less crazy … but still, she was talking about betraying his country. She was talking about treason.

A knock on the door with the promised coffee ended this train of thought. Nope, Olga was off the board, which left the field exactly empty of all possible retirement companionship options. He snorted frustration and then locked that feeling away, just like he did every morning.

Time to go to work.

Graves was known as an early riser, but 3 a.m. was early even by his standards. The sergeant at the main desk had let the duty officer know the CO was up and on the prowl. Graves had to hide a smile as he returned the salute of the freshly turned-out young second lieutenant.

“Anything to report, Lieutenant?” Graves asked.

“All quiet, sir.”

“Very well. Have my car ready to leave for New York at six sharp. I’m going for a walk.”

Even this early in the morning, the heat settled on him like a warm blanket. A pair of security soldiers started to follow him, but Graves waved them off. He liked military bases in the very early morning. Quiet, but ready to burst with energy. In another hour, there would be PT squads getting in their exercise for the day before the sun came up. Then the smells of the chow hall would take over the base. After breakfast, as the sun was breaking over the horizon, the real work day would begin. Land vehicles and aircars crisscrossing the base, transports taking off and landing at the airfield, the sounds of live fire training from the gun range.

But now, it was just a pregnant silence waiting for another day to begin. He approached the perimeter of the refugee camp, surprising the army guards stationed outside. The men snapped to attention and saluted.

“All quiet on the western front, soldier?” he asked a young woman with eyes red from lack of sleep.

She had no idea what he was talking about, so she settled for, “All quiet, sir.”

Graves chuckled to himself as he made his way into the camp. A tall recruit who looked like his waistline was the same diameter as his rifle barrel fell into step beside him. “You can wait here,” Graves said. “I’ll handle this on my own.”

“Standing orders, sir. We use the buddy system in the camp.”

“Standing orders from whom, soldier?”

“The CO, sir.”

“You mean me.”

The young man’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he realized his situation. “Yes, sir.”

Graves leaned toward him and pointed to a pair of teenagers watching them from the shadow of the nearest tent. “They know I’m coming, I think. I’m going to take this one alone, son.”

He walked through the arrow-straight streets of the refugee camp toward the Temple of Cassandra. Around him he heard the sounds of people sleeping. The deeper snores of adults, the quick breaths of children, a baby crying somewhere. A heat exchanger kicked on with a low hum.

As always, the temple was lit from the outside, the mark of Cassandra glowing brightly against the night sky. An acolyte met him at the entrance, a young woman with raven-black hair and fair skin. “The Corazon is waiting for you, General.”

Graves nodded. “I expected nothing less.” His remark earned a quizzical look from the young woman.

Cora was kneeling before the altar of the Child when Graves entered the chamber. She stood immediately and came toward him with her hands outstretched. “William, what a pleasant surprise.”

She wore a simple dark gray dress belted at the waist, which Graves had come to see as her everyday wear. Her silver hair hung loose around her shoulders and her brown skin had the vibrant glowing undertone that he found so appealing. To his surprise, she kissed him on the cheek. The thrill of it stopped his breath for a moment.

“Well, when do we leave?” she asked.

Cora arched an eyebrow at the surprised look on his face. “A man only visits a woman at this hour of the morning for one of two things. I think I know you well enough to guess which one it is.”

Graves blushed. “I thought maybe you had another vision,” he replied.

Cora’s expression grew thoughtful. “I’m afraid my visions have ended, William. I haven’t had one since…” She looked him in the eye. “Since you saved my life at the United Nations.”

Graves pretended to study the altar. “Well, you’re about to revisit the scene of the crime then. Teller wants us in New York this morning. There’s a meeting with Anthony Taulke at the UN.”

Cora frowned.

“I don’t know why or what he wants with us,” Graves said.

“It has begun,” Cora whispered to herself. Graves felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

“What has?” he said.

Cora stared at him for long enough that Graves thought she might not have heard him.

“The heart of man will be changed and the Child be brought into a new world.”

“Another vision?” Graves said, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

“Her words. Cassandra’s words.”

“The words of a computer-generated religion.”

Cora smiled at him gently. “I’m surprised at you, William. You are a man of science, no?”

“Of course.”

“Then you, of all people, should agree that if a computer is given the right data, it will generate the right answer.” She put her hand on Graves’s elbow and steered him toward the door.

“Shall we go?”