every Hammer strike count. Within the next three weeks, I want a window of three to four days when we have the Hammer ready to deploy, and when I can announce the recall to Ephyra. Of course, if you object, I’ll have to coopt one of your staff.”
“The Hammer is my responsibility,” Fenix said. “I wouldn’t pass the buck to anyone else.”
Prescott sat down at his desk and began writing. “Thank you, gentlemen. I’ll inform the Cabinet of my decision a short time before I make the public announcement to invoke martial law and declare Ephyra a sanctuary zone. How short depends on how we assess the risk of information leaking and starting a panic. The evacuation period starts from then. I favor three days, unless anyone has a compelling practical argument otherwise. But this has to be fast.”
Three, five, ten—it didn’t make much difference. There wasn’t enough room for the whole world.
“Three it is, sir,” said Salaman.
“A panic,” Fenix repeated quietly. “What do you think we already have?”
“I don’t know quite how you work, Professor.” Prescott just kept going. “Can you keep this under wraps at your end, or will you have staff who need to be briefed?”
Fenix’s shoulders sagged. “I can do it on my own. Like I said—this is my responsibility.”
Fenix grabbed his briefcase and walked out. Hoffman headed for the side exit with Salaman, and found that his hands were shaking.
“Shit,” Salaman said. “I’m going to grab a drink.”
“I miss my NCO days,” said Hoffman. “See you in the morning.”
Hoffman walked back to the apartment, rehearsing how and when he would tell Margaret that he’d just put his name to the destruction of almost every city on Sera, and most of its citizens. Yes, he missed being a sergeant.
CHAPTER 4
We only achieve unity through order .
(NASSAR EMBRY, ALLFATHER PRIME, FOUNDER OF THE COALITION OF ORDERED GOVERNMENTS.) PORT FARRALL, TYRUS, ONE WEEK AFTER THE FLOODING OF JACINTO, 14 A.E.
“Your vehicle camo sucks,” Baird said, puffing clouds into the freezing air. “Saw you coming way off.”
Bernie brought the battered ’Dill to a halt at the outer checkpoint. “Aren’t you going to ask me how I got them on the roof?” She jumped out to admire the haul of deer carcasses strapped to the hatch surfaces and panniers of the APC. “Four. That’s a lot of meat, Blondie. And leather. If you’re a good boy, I’ll teach you how to dress it.”
“You’re loving this, aren’t you?”
“You want to live on dry rations and a roast rat for special occasions? Come on, mount up.”
Bernie drove into the reclaimed city with mixed feelings. Her whole reason for struggling across Sera to reach Jacinto was to get rid of the grubs, to get her world back before she was too old or too dead to do it. Now that the grubs were mostly gone, she wasn’t sure what would fill that space.
For the meantime, being uniquely useful would do. She could survive off the land in any terrain, any climate, and teach others to do the same. That knowledge was now vital in the literal sense of the word. It was central to staying alive.
But one week after the destruction of Jacinto, the reality of what they’d left behind—squalid as it was—was really starting to bite hard.
“How many dead today?” she asked.
“You got some recipes?”
“Don’t even joke about that, Blondie.”
“Forty-three,” Baird said. “Hypothermia. Elderly. Make sure you wear your cat-fur booties, Granny.”
Dr. Hayman posted the list at CIC daily. The winter was bitter and the accommodations grim, despite the engineers doing their best to bring the most habitable part of Port Farrall back to life. It was all about timing. A different season and this would have been a little easier. They could have grown crops. But at this time of year, all they had was the emergency rations shipped out with the convoy and whatever they could forage. As Bernie drove slowly through the streets,
“The Hammer is my responsibility,” Fenix said. “I wouldn’t pass the buck to anyone else.”
Prescott sat down at his desk and began writing. “Thank you, gentlemen. I’ll inform the Cabinet of my decision a short time before I make the public announcement to invoke martial law and declare Ephyra a sanctuary zone. How short depends on how we assess the risk of information leaking and starting a panic. The evacuation period starts from then. I favor three days, unless anyone has a compelling practical argument otherwise. But this has to be fast.”
Three, five, ten—it didn’t make much difference. There wasn’t enough room for the whole world.
“Three it is, sir,” said Salaman.
“A panic,” Fenix repeated quietly. “What do you think we already have?”
“I don’t know quite how you work, Professor.” Prescott just kept going. “Can you keep this under wraps at your end, or will you have staff who need to be briefed?”
Fenix’s shoulders sagged. “I can do it on my own. Like I said—this is my responsibility.”
Fenix grabbed his briefcase and walked out. Hoffman headed for the side exit with Salaman, and found that his hands were shaking.
“Shit,” Salaman said. “I’m going to grab a drink.”
“I miss my NCO days,” said Hoffman. “See you in the morning.”
Hoffman walked back to the apartment, rehearsing how and when he would tell Margaret that he’d just put his name to the destruction of almost every city on Sera, and most of its citizens. Yes, he missed being a sergeant.
CHAPTER 4
We only achieve unity through order .
(NASSAR EMBRY, ALLFATHER PRIME, FOUNDER OF THE COALITION OF ORDERED GOVERNMENTS.) PORT FARRALL, TYRUS, ONE WEEK AFTER THE FLOODING OF JACINTO, 14 A.E.
“Your vehicle camo sucks,” Baird said, puffing clouds into the freezing air. “Saw you coming way off.”
Bernie brought the battered ’Dill to a halt at the outer checkpoint. “Aren’t you going to ask me how I got them on the roof?” She jumped out to admire the haul of deer carcasses strapped to the hatch surfaces and panniers of the APC. “Four. That’s a lot of meat, Blondie. And leather. If you’re a good boy, I’ll teach you how to dress it.”
“You’re loving this, aren’t you?”
“You want to live on dry rations and a roast rat for special occasions? Come on, mount up.”
Bernie drove into the reclaimed city with mixed feelings. Her whole reason for struggling across Sera to reach Jacinto was to get rid of the grubs, to get her world back before she was too old or too dead to do it. Now that the grubs were mostly gone, she wasn’t sure what would fill that space.
For the meantime, being uniquely useful would do. She could survive off the land in any terrain, any climate, and teach others to do the same. That knowledge was now vital in the literal sense of the word. It was central to staying alive.
But one week after the destruction of Jacinto, the reality of what they’d left behind—squalid as it was—was really starting to bite hard.
“How many dead today?” she asked.
“You got some recipes?”
“Don’t even joke about that, Blondie.”
“Forty-three,” Baird said. “Hypothermia. Elderly. Make sure you wear your cat-fur booties, Granny.”
Dr. Hayman posted the list at CIC daily. The winter was bitter and the accommodations grim, despite the engineers doing their best to bring the most habitable part of Port Farrall back to life. It was all about timing. A different season and this would have been a little easier. They could have grown crops. But at this time of year, all they had was the emergency rations shipped out with the convoy and whatever they could forage. As Bernie drove slowly through the streets,
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