“In addition to the Earth Defense Alliance’s decisive victory in Pakistan,” one male news anchor was saying, “news of dozens of other victories are pouring in from other cities around the world. The tide began to turn after the aliens’ surprise attacks on Shanghai and Cairo—”
I frowned and switched to another network, showing live coverage from New York City. The Big Apple looked just like it did in every apocalyptic disaster movie I’d ever seen. The skyline was a smoking ruin, and the streets of Manhattan had been flooded by a tsunami created by one of the many artificial earthquakes resulting from the attacks.
“—dozens of epic battles were raging over the city just moments ago, but as you can see, the skies are clear,” another newscaster reported. “The EDA’s army of civilian-operated drones has won another decisive victory here. Humanity has successfully defended itself against the first wave of the invaders’ attack. We managed to fight them all off—it’s incredible!”
The beautiful female anchor beside him nodded enthusiastically.
“In every engagement we’ve had with the enemy so far, it has become obvious that humans are naturally more adept at combat than the creatures who are operating all of these invading ships and drones,” she said. “In every battle they seemed to have us outmatched, but despite their vastly superior numbers and technology, the Europans appear to lack our reflexes and natural predatory instincts—”
I switched newsfeeds again and saw Admiral Vance, addressing the troops via his handheld QComm, wearing his trademark expression of grim resolve. The man looked downright heroic.
“—but even though we managed to fight off the first wave of the invasion, we suffered heavy losses in the process,” Admiral Vance said. “The enemy didn’t lose a soul—just equipment. And two-thirds of their forces are still en route to Earth.” He paused to let this sink in, then continued. “The second wave of their attack will reach us just over two hours from now, and we need all of you to be ready.”
Just as he finished making that statement, a new countdown clock appeared on my QComm display—just over two and half hours to go until the second wave arrived, bringing twice as much devastation as the first.
I switched to another channel, and then another, but it was the same war propaganda on every station. Newscasters of every nationality were claiming victory and imploring their viewers not to give up, to hunker down and keep on fighting, because there was still hope—we could still win this.
I put my QComm away, wishing that I could bring myself to rally to the Earth Defense Alliance’s global battle cry. But it was obvious to me that our remaining forces wouldn’t be able to withstand another assault of equal magnitude, much less two more attacks, delivered by a force of double and then triple the size of the first wave.
I tried to forget about the news, and thought again of my father’s heroic act of self-sacrifice, performed in the wake of Chén’s kamikaze run. It shouldn’t have worked. But it had—just as my father had predicted it would.
I shouldn’t need any more convincing—and, I decided right then, I didn’t.
“I’m sorry I doubted you, Dad,” I said to him over the comlink, while I stared at his unconscious face on my monitor, his eyes closed and his forehead caked with dried blood. “And I’m sorry I couldn’t bring myself to call you ‘Dad’ before now, too, okay? Do you hear me? Do you, Dad?”
His eyes stayed closed, and he remained perfectly still—the ship’s inertia-cancellation field kept him from even being jostled slightly, even though we were flying through Earth’s atmosphere fast enough to set the ship on fire.
“You were right and I was wrong, okay?” I told him, raising my voice, as if that would help him to hear me. “And I’d really like it if you would wake up now, so that I can tell you that in person. Would you do that for me?”
“Please?” I said. “General? Xavier?”
When he didn’t answer, I tried again.
“Dad?”
But he still didn’t respond.
He was dead to the world.
I flew him straight to the hospital in south Beaverton where my mother worked, but when I swooped down looking for a spot to land, I saw that all the roads surrounding it were jammed with abandoned vehicles and frightened people. If I landed my Interceptor nearby it would draw all kinds of attention, and it was doubtful I’d be able to take off again.
I was circling back over the city, looking for a quiet place to set down, when I spotted my high school down below. There were only a few cars still parked in the student lot, and mine was one of them. I could also make out the burn marks on the school’s front lawn left by the EDA shuttle when Ray had arrived to pick me up this morning—a whole lifetime ago.