solidifies our throne in Europe as we speak, and the rest of the world ripens for our taking. But I suppose you’re right. I suppose there will be those to rise against you and what you’ve created. In fact, I’m delighted to think we can and should expect resistance from a fallen nation.”
“And what does that mean?” Lukas asked.
“It means you’ve completely changed the American people, my love, whether they asked for it or not. They are no longer American as there is no longer an America and they’re beginning to realize that. They had a system but that system has now disappeared. They have little or no option but to love you and run to you or stand and fight you, and even they know such folly would not bode well.”
“Well, I’m sure some will risk the roads for the Republic of Texas,” Lukas replied. “We’ve already begun to reprogram every FOD we possess to locate those who are running—no easy task, but a needed one. Every new man who serves the Imperium is one less to fight for someone else. They’ll soon realize resistance is a reckless dream of the past. We are reality.”
“Still, they were American,” Maria said after a pause. “I am sure they will fight us from the shadows, especially these first few months. They are too stubborn to do otherwise and we’ll need to be careful. Not even you are immune to a properly placed bullet.”
Lukas smiled back at Maria, though a quick pang of anger flared up within. Not too long ago, he had cowered on the floor beneath Sigmund’s gaze, believing she had betrayed him. He had loved her fiercely since the day they had first met, and that love had only grown as time passed. Nevertheless, in those few brief moments of torture and despair—when Lukas had believed his own wife had thrown him to the compassion of a merciless psychopath—he had chosen to hate not only Maria, but to loathe the love they had shared. Once the truth had been revealed, that hatred had begun to dissipate. However, since his moment of pure hell, Lukas had noticed something dark festering inside of him. It was a rotting filth of uncertainty and had begun to cast a shadow of doubt over the bright love he had held for Maria. It was as though the fire that had raged within him for what had seemed to be an eternity had left behind a residue that tainted what had once been pure.
“Do not fret,” Lukas finally said with a forced smile. “I am sure the few who end up fighting from the shadows will find it in themselves to fall before our might. When they stand against us, I promise you we will unleash the full power of my kingdom.”
A knock on the door caused him to sit up, clearing his throat as he spoke in the most regal and king-like manner that he could.
“You may enter.”
The door opened and emitted Rupert Rosenbaum, Lukas’ czar of the newly established Reconstruction Initiative. After Rupert came Warren Anniston—the Imperium’s Innovation and Expansion czar, followed by Geoffrey Poteau—the Secretary of Foreign Affairs, Sandra Bowie—the woman who currently supervised the massive inflow of refugees, and finally Lieutenant General Eli Kane—a man who had served in the United States Air Force as a commanding officer for years before America’s collapse. The final attendee that entered was a woman about the age of Maria that Lukas had never seen before. As everyone found their seats, Sandra Bowie cleared her throat and spoke.
“Good morning, my Sovereign, and may you live forever.”
“And to you, Sandra,” Lukas replied. “What news do you have?”
“Unfortunately, I must begin by informing you of Rhys Howard’s death.”
“What?” Lukas asked, surprised. “How?”
“A heart attack,” Sandra replied. “We had been monitoring his vitals ever since he was secured after the battle of DC. Everything had been fine until this morning when he suddenly began to convulse and flat lined. We halted the nanobot’s effects and tried to revive him, but it was
C. J. Cherryh
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