The White Death (32 page)

“You’re saying she planned the virus,” said Grace. “Freda, that’s one enormous accusation.”

“Can you check to see if this ship is blocking any communications on Earth?”

“What?” said Grace. “Don’t be ridiculous, Freda. What would be the reason? If anything, Loretta has distanced herself from this. Where have you been?”

“Just check?” insisted Freda.

Freda watched Grace humor her on this one.

The captain tapped a few buttons, and a sensor grid appeared, with her starship at the center. When she requested a communications overlay, the grid turned purple, but no other change occurred.

“See. Nothing.”

“The Council uses private channels to communicate with the home worlds, correct?” said Freda.

“Yes?”

“Could you check them?”

“That’s Council prerogative, Freda.”

“Please.”

Grace tapped a few more buttons, and the grid turned white. Dozens of blue lines emanated from the starship and off into deep space, but one was directed at Earth.

“Well?” said Freda. “Where is that communication stream going?”

“I’m trying to track it now.” Grace stood in front of Freda now, eager to see who was contacting Earth without her consent.

“A moving air object?” said Freda, walking away from the computer to stand at the window. She already knew.

“Yes,” confirmed Grace. “How did you…? It’s directing a jamming signal to the moving object.”

“Where is Loretta?”

“Council chambers,” said Grace.

“Grace, how many times have we fought together?”

“Too many.” She walked up to Freda.

“And you trusted me each and every time?” asked Freda. She was about to take the biggest gamble of her life, and if she failed, nothing would be the same again.

“Of course,” replied Grace.

“I need you to trust my judgment again, Grace, one last time.”

“Tell me what you need me to do.”

They had served together on hundreds of assignments in the past, before Freda decided to enter into the murky waters of politics. The faces of her entire team at Section 51 went through her mind, one after the other.

Freda turned to look at her, the fate of humanity very much in their hands now.

Chapter 61

Things were heating up in the Oval Office, as staffers rushed around in preparation for contact with Japanese refugees.

“If just one Japanese citizen lands on our shore and is an infected carrier, then it’s game over,” said Thomas.

“What are the projections for infection if the West Coast does fall?” Kramer asked.

“Total infection of the United States within seventy-two hours. That’s us being ultra conservative,” said Gail. She was handed another folder by an assistant.

“Sir, San Francisco and Los Angeles are in full evacuation mode,” said Gail, reading the report. “The governor has lost all control.”

“If a carrier reaches our soil, we’ll have infection in less than seventy-two hours,” said Kilmoran. “I’m sure of it.”

“Agreed,” said Thomas. “Section 51 believes the virus is continually mutating, becoming more contagious each passing hour.”

A beep took Gail’s attention away. “General Richards on line one,” said Gail.

They’d been waiting on him for a final update on Japan.

“General,” said Thomas, refusing tea, “I’m putting you on loudspeaker to the room.”

“Mr. President, we have fierce fighting all along the Japanese coast,” said Richards with his usual gruffness. “Our naval and air assets are fully deployed and engaging the enemy.”

“Our submarines?” said Thomas.

“Engaging any smaller ships that get through the blockade.”

“What about the Japanese aircraft we detected already in the air?” said Thomas.

“Destroyed, Mr. President. We’re at full battle stations. It’s a bloodbath. We’re taking a real hammering. We can’t hope to get them all. It’s a national evacuation, and there’s only one continent they can head to.”

“How long have we got?” asked Kilmoran.

“Those that breach containment could reach our shores within seven hours,” said Richards. “But we must act now.”

The Oval Office went quiet.

“Recommendation, General?” asked Thomas.

“The Joint Chiefs are in agreement, sir. Only a full nuclear strike on Japan and her outlying islands will remove the threat.”

“What are your orders, sir?” asked Jacqui. Not a sound could be heard, and people conspicuously edged toward his desk.

He closed his eyes, knowing what had to be done.

“Under the advice of my Council and with the power vested in me by the Constitution, I am authorizing a full nuclear strike on the nation of Japan. Gail, please note the time and date in the official logs.”

“It is so noted, sir.”

“There is one saving grace,” said Kilmoran. “We’ll be sparing the Japanese people from a horrible existence.”

“That’s easy to say when you’re not infected,” said Kramer.

Thomas didn’t have time for arguments anymore. “Gail, I need the football.”

“Yes, Mr. President.” Gail went to get the nuclear football—a briefcase containing the computer system to control America’s mighty nuclear arsenal. Outside, the storm that had been approaching the capital over the past week opened up from the heavens with force, pelting down a mixture of rain and thick snowflakes. Thomas couldn’t help but feel God himself was watching now. He often thought, before entering politics, how great politicians of the past—Roosevelt, Churchill—made such epic and earth-shattering decisions involving the fate of millions. When you sat behind the president’s desk, your job overshadowed everything else.

“Mr. President,” said Colonel Adrian Branch, square-jawed with a military-styled haircut. He bowed his head slightly, before approaching the desk. The football was always in close proximity to the president. Where he traveled, it traveled, along with the colonel.

“Colonel, please unlock the briefcase.”

“You are aware the situation room is fully operational?” said Branch. The football was usually only for situations when the president was away from a command center, like Air Force One.

“I know that but I want to do it here,” ordered Thomas, standing up. “Now, unlock the case.”

“Yes, sir.” Branch set the heavy leather briefcase down and unlocked it. A computer screen rose up, automatically sending a signal to the Pentagon.

“This is surreal,” said Kilmoran.

“Target selection, sir?” said Branch.

To Thomas, Branch sounded like he could have been asking for his food order, such was his calmness.

“Japan,” said Thomas. “All of it.”

“Understood,” said Branch, keying in the information while everyone looked on.

“Level of destruction?”

“Total,” said Thomas.

Branch looked up in surprise.

“This is to confirm, Mr. President, you wish total destruction of the Japanese nation.”

“Confirmed,” he replied. The power that one position could hold frightened Thomas. Here he was, simply deciding a nation should no longer exist. “If there was any other way…”

Gail tried to encourage him. “You have an entire continent to protect, Mr. President. If America falls, then so does the human race, and every single thing we have done this week will have been for nothing.”

Chapter 62

Freda stood outside the Council chambers on Deck 13. The ship was buzzing with crew members speeding through corridors, trying to keep on top of the Earth situation. Only Deck 13—the Council Deck—seemed normal. This area always represented a quiet order, even in the most critical of circumstances. She stared at Earth, refusing to blink, not wanting to waste a single second. A people that she was assigned to guide and protect faced extinction. Wanting to freeze time for just a moment, Freda wished to capture the struggles taking place across the planet. If only the rest of the Alliance could see what was happening here. If the public knew what was really going on, she’d have a mandate so large the Alliance would protect humanity. A dark feeling of shame and repulsion was strong in her now. She came from an Alliance that possessed technological wonders and considered itself morally unquestionable.

“Morally bankrupt,” she muttered to the now-empty corridor. Tapping her brooch, she was aware her own freedom was also in question now. Everything hinged on her.

“Grace, almost ready?”

“Another minute.”

“Every second we waste,” she reminded the captain, closing the audio channel. Contemplating what the next few moments would bring, the possibility of life-long imprisonment—or worse—was real. Even the Grand Alliance had a dark side to it, not publicized but very much active. Coming from intelligence services, she knew just how ruthless the upper levels of government could be. Only public opinion and the goodwill of the Alliance could help Earth now. If she played it right, there might be a chance.

“Can I get you anything, ma’am?” said a passing female ensign.

Freda was lost in thought, not registering the young woman.

“Ma’am?”

“No, thank you.”

If the president launched those nuclear missiles, then everything was lost. She couldn’t let it get to that stage. She had one chance to save humanity, and it was now.

“Grace to Freda. Everything is ready to go.”

“Thank you, Grace. As a human would say, wish me luck.”

“I just hope you’re right, Freda. The moment you step through those doors, there is no going back for either of us.”

Freda had Grace hack into key networks used across the Alliance. She had one shot at this. Only one. She’d also locked every Council member up in their private quarters. The charges against her, if she was wrong or couldn’t prove her case, would be never-ending.

“I’ll see you soon.”

Freda rubbed her damp hands together. Loretta was a daunting figure to challenge, fiercely intelligent and politically connected to the highest offices. If it didn’t go according to plan, then she would ensure Freda spent the rest of her days in a virtual prison. Straightening her suit jacket and pushing her glasses up, she took one final moment to steady herself. Grabbing both handles, she flung the heavy doors open. A metal clang echoed through the Council chamber, and Freda marched in. It was time.

Chapter 63

“Confirmed,” said Richards.

  “Survivors?”

  Richards didn’t need to tell him the answer. Thomas already knew it.

  “An entire aircraft carrier,” said Jacqui. She sat down, shocked.

  America had never lost one of its towering nuclear-powered aircraft carriers before.

  “Five thousand people,” said Thomas. He himself was sitting behind his desk, praying Japan would be hit before that one person left the island and infected the American continent. A high-tech radar screen had been wheeled in, showing the battle raging across the Pacific Ocean as Japanese planes and boats darted across it. The time had long past when it took hours to traverse the deep ocean. Advanced propulsion meant such distances were easily travelled now.

  “There’s so many of them,” said Jacqui.

  Thomas agreed with her. The radar screen was filled with hundreds of red and blue dots, symbolizing Japanese and American forces fighting it out across hundreds of miles of ocean.

  “We won’t get them all,” said Richards. “Some will make it to the mainland.”

  “Let’s hope they’re uninfected,” said Jacqui.

  Thomas was thinking something very different now. He was fed up hoping.

  “Mr. President,” said Vanessa Kramer.

  He looked up from the briefcase; in an instant his Secretary of State carried bad news. She was pale, her light, professional makeup hiding nothing.

  “What’s happened?” he said.

  Vanessa spoke slowly, in shock. “Britain has infection.”

  He stared deep into her eyes.

  “How bad?”

  “London. We don’t know the details yet. The prime minister and their government is being evacuated, but…”

  “Then your decision to attack Japan is even more justified,” said Richards, who had just arrived.

  He looked to his general.

  “Britain is gone,” continued Richards. “We are the last hope for the continuation of our race.”

  “Maybe so.” Thomas wasn’t so sure now. “We’re being exterminated. They must want the planet.”

  “The Council?” said Richards.

  “Yes. Doesn’t it make sense?” He now addressed the room. “They have been systematically destroying our race. It’s Earth they want.”

  “That’s a big assumption,” said Richards.

  “I agree with the president,” said Kramer. “They want our home and are prepared to kill us for it. We’ve had no vaccine.”

  “Gail, what are the latest forecasts for infection and nuclear winter?”

  Gail didn’t need to look to her files held against her chest.

  “One hundred percent certainty for both.”

  “Then we’ve lost,” said Thomas. He didn’t need time to think about it anymore. There was one thing he could do—to ensure they didn’t go down without a fight. A fight against their real enemy. “We’ve lost.”

  “So you’d give up?” said Kilmoran.

  “Would you suggest I continue to bomb North and South America until there is nothing left at all? No. I won’t do that. Colonel!”

  “Sir, what are you doing?” said Richards.

  Colonel Branch approached the presidential desk. “Sir.”

  “I will not continue to amputate parts of the country,” said Thomas, adrenaline beginning to pump through him for the first time in days. He dared Richards to challenge him. “I’ve destroyed cities, and now nations.” He pointed towards the football briefcase. “If the Council wants the planet, they can have it.”

  “Orders?” said Branch.

  “Prepare for a worldwide nuclear strike. Every missile we have, I want launched. We hit every continent.”

  “The Endgame scenario,” said Branch.

  He was briefed on it before becoming president, thinking it laughable.

  “Sir—” said Gail.

  He held his hand up, not letting her speak anymore.

  “We’ll all die together,” he repeated. “You said yourself, infection and nuclear winter are both going to happen, no matter what we do. Japanese planes and boats speed across the Pacific Ocean, and our men and women are out there dying, trying to stop them. No, I won’t allow this to go on any longer. We’ve made too many sacrifices already.”

  Kramer fell into a chair. “So we all go together?”

  “Our race will die at our own hands, not those of some alien council,” said Thomas. He’d never felt so sure about something in his life. He would destroy the planet before handing it over. “We will leave this planet in such dire straits, their sweet taste of victory will be overshadowed by a long, harsh defeat.”