“And they’re our cousins. Our mother country’s back is against the wall. They would come to our aide if we were facing annihilation.”
“We don’t owe them a thing. America is ours. We’ve paid for this land with our blood, sweat, and tears — the only currency that has ever mattered.”
“They need miners desperately. Tunnel warfare could end the war early. You’d have me stay home? I can save lives.”
“You can’t save lives.” He looked disgusted. “You haven’t understood a word I’ve said, have you? Get out of here. And even if you do make it back from the war, don’t come back here. But do me one favor, for all I’ve given you. When you figure out that you’re fighting some other man’s war, walk away. And don’t start a family until you take that uniform off. Don’t be as cruel and greedy as he was. We walked through the devastation of the North to reach that plantation in Virginia. He knew what he was getting into, and he charged on. When you see war, you’ll know. Make better choices than the one you made today.” He walked out of the room, and I never saw him again.
I’m so lost in the memory I barely notice the throngs of people that file past us, introducing themselves and touching Helena’s stomach. We sit there like a royal couple at some state function. There are dozens of scientists, in town no doubt to study the room we recently uncovered. I meet the heads of Immari divisions overseas. The organization is massive. Konrad Kane marches over. His legs and arms are rigid, his back is straight and unbending, as if he were being probed with some unseen instrument. He introduces the woman at his side — his wife. Her smile is warm and she speaks kindly, which catches me off guard. I’m a little embarrassed at my harsh demeanor. A young boy runs from behind her (she must have been holding him), and jumps into Helena’s lap, crushing her stomach. I grab him by the arm, jerking him off of her and back onto the ground. My face is filled with rage, and the boy looks as though he will cry. Konrad locks eyes with me, but the boy’s mother has her arms around him, admonishing, “Be careful, Dieter. Helena is pregnant.”
Helena straightens in the chair and reaches for the boy. “It’s ok, give me your hand, Dieter.” She takes the boy’s arm and pulls him to her, placing the hand on her stomach. “You feel that?” The boy looks up at Helena and nods. Helena smiles at him. “I remember when you were inside your mama’s stomach. I remember the day you were born.”
Lord Barton steps between Konrad and me. “It’s time.” He looks at the woman and the child palming Helena’s swollen belly. “Excuse us, ladies.”
Barton leads us through the hall, to a large conference room.
The other apostles of the apocalypse are here waiting on us: Rutger, Mallory Craig, and a cadre of other men, mostly scientists and researchers. The introductions are hasty. These men are clearly less star-struck with me. There’s another quick round of congratulations and hyperbole like we’ve cured the plague; then they get down to business.
“When will we get through — to the top of the stairwell?” Konrad asks.
I know what I want to say, but the curiosity gets the better of me. “What are the devices in the chamber we found?”
One of the scientists speaks. “We’re still studying them. Some sort of suspension chamber.”
I had assumed as much, but it sounds less crazy when a scientist says it. “The room is some sort of laboratory?”
The scientists nod. “Yes. We believe the building is a science building, possibly one giant lab.”
“What if it’s not a building?”
The scientist looks confused. “What else could it be?”
“A ship,” I say.
Barton lets out a laugh and speaks jovially. “That’s rich, Patty. Why don’t you focus on the digging and leave the science to these men?” He nods appreciatively at the scientists. “I assure you they’re better at it than you are. Now Rutger has told us you’re worried about water and gas above the stairs. What’s your plan?”
I press on. “The walls, inside the structure. They look like bulkheads in a ship.”
The lead scientist hesitates, then says, “Yes, they do. But they’re too thick, almost five feet. No ship would need walls that thick, and it wouldn’t float. It’s also too large to be a ship. It’s a city; we’re fairly certain of that. And there are the stairs. Stairs on a ship would be very curious.”
Barton holds up his hand. “We’ll sort out all these mysteries when we’re inside. Can you give us an estimate, Pierce?”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
My mind drifts back to that night in West Virginia for a brief moment, then I’m back in the room, staring at the Immari Council and the scientists. “Because I’m done digging. Find someone else,” I say.
“Now look here, my boy, this isn’t some social club, some frivolous thing you join and then quit when the dues become too burdensome. You’ll finish the job and make good on your promise,” Lord Barton says.