A Tarnished President.

Martin Wilkerson and Jonathan Aston nodded, their minds straying outside of this world, abandoning reason in favor of anti-reality. They considered the viability of interstellar travel, the strange laws of the anti-universe, and how to survive in a pervasive emptiness that defied reality. The anti-universe threatened to be the foundation of their future.

Under artificial lights, Margaret Lowenstein spoke to a throng while the reddish shield glinted dimly overhead. Her deceitful followers, a legion formed of her poor judgment and maintained by the façade of vanity, spread before her.

She said, "The shield needs to be decommissioned." It is insufficient to merely leave it protected for enlightenment. The shield itself is the key to true understanding—a fine balance.

Remember, my heightened intellect and burning only appeared after it failed. The shield is a necessary evil that acts as a catalyst. How much longer can I keep up this act without flinching? When will I make a mistake because someone is probing too deeply?

"The participation of the shield is essential to our ultimate destiny. We have to turn it on for a moment and then turn it off when radiation hits. Then and only then will we realize the destiny of humanity.

We can't find those who have gone beyond. Though I mourn them, I caution you: the shield is the only way. If you continue to stray, you must be sustained by your faith, not mine.

"I regret my fault and weight of not warning them sooner. I appreciate you listening. I hope we arrive at our last refuge soon. Good night.

As she stepped down, the crowd became silent. Friends outside the shield were thought to be out of the reach of enlightenment. Some thought about being saved, but the threat of uncontrolled radiation stifled the idea because it was insufficiently strong to achieve transcendence.

Others pondered what she had said. Deactivating the shield would not be voluntarily done by the government. They would need to be coerced—or take action on their own.

The following day, Gregory Rylance called a meeting of his associates to assure them of their commitment to his battle. He couldn't allow dissension to break their heroic fight.

He examined every face for signs of discomfort and remarked, "The last attack exceeded our wildest hopes."

Daniels—third seat, second row. A slight change indicated uneasiness, eyes flitting for confirmation. He would have to be eliminated.

It was a lucky turn of events when the 6:00 126 crashed into Bravo Shield VIII. Our efforts are strengthened, and we are now more prepared. We have to attack infrastructure and power at the same time.

McCarthin, first row, fourth seat. Hollister, first seat, third row. Three to eliminate—not perfect, but doable. He would set it up quickly.

"I appreciate you meeting me. I'll get in touch with you shortly to discuss our next goal and strategy.

Standing in a phone booth, Frederick McCarthin's resolve solidified. He was troubled by his wife's sobs over the train accident; he couldn't stand her hatred if she found out. He needed to get away as soon as possible.

“Hi, operator?”

"Sir, what can I do for you?"

"Give me the Federal Bureau of Investigation contact information."

"Give me a minute, sir."

Once, twice, three times the line rang. McCarthin looked anxiously out the window at the rushing traffic.

"This is the FBI. How can we help?

"I'm phoning in reference to the bombing of the power plant. I am aware of the accountable party. The agent jerked to attention as a chair creaked.

"Don't think twice, sir. We are able to assist.

"My friend—"

"Don't worry, we'll keep you safe." Michael Conway on the other end of the phone was startled by the clamor of twisted metal and shattered glass. "Sir? Hi there? Are you alright?

Far away, a faint voice rose above the others, saying, "My God, I think he's dead!"

Michael cursed. They had lost their lead. He narrowed out the call's origin by looking at the tracking screen. If it had held for a few more seconds, he would have activated it at the man's opening words.

Then it made sense. In a phone booth, probably a pay phone, a man passed away. His clue was a deadly accident there.

As she assembled her dossier, Georgiana sat in her office. The president could avoid physical attacks, but a public that opposed him was a different story.

Thomas remained silent, which was telling. She could no longer afford the luxury of trust; his assassin had either failed or died. She would take care of any tasks that needed to be done personally.

With her file finished, the president could be attacked. If she succeeded, she would be crowned ruler over the pathetic surviving who would bow down to her. The idea made her laugh.

Charles escaped the unrelenting chase. It was exhausting to dodge the throng for seven months; he couldn't flee indefinitely. Salvation came from a stolen discussion.

"I've heard that they intend to colonize Erath—to permanently leave it behind."

"There have been rumors, but I don't believe them."

"I am intimately acquainted with Jonathan Aston. He is dedicated.

Charles required specifics. "Sorry to interrupt, but I heard you mention a colonization project," he said, stepping up to the two women at the bar. Who is responsible for it?

One responded, "Jonathon Aston, from the Second Scientific Convention." I apologize for my manners. Call me Val. My name is Valery. It's Natalie.

It's nice to meet you, Natalie and Val. My name is Charles. My area of expertise is security.

The president's counselor on foreign affairs, Michael Stewart, pondered. He would be the fall person unless he was able to repair his reputation because of the terrorist strike. It was time to act.

He presented President Wilson with plans to improve their standing. In the history of the United States, a dazzling president overshadowed his staff, while a disreputable one made them scapegoats.

"Make a statement first," Michael said. "Assign the wordsmith to it right away. Your condolence speech is insufficient; you also need to persuade them that you are actively fighting this.

"All right," Wilson said. "What else?"

"Avoid it. Create a specialized unit to hunt out these terrorists, similar to the early 21st-century US Department of Homeland Defense. Although it didn't last, it temporarily gained the president's favor.

"A new Homeland Defense Department, then?"

"Something new—not that name."

"Like what?"

"What about the Counterterrorism Office for Canadia Shield?"

"Will it be purchased?"

"Definitely."

Ann Wilson walked in, her demeanor cold. As she came closer, her arms tensed, her gaze focused on Stewart's retrenchment, Joseph pushed Michael out.

She declared, "I don't like that man." "I detest the strain that this presidency puts on you. Make me a promise that you won't follow his counsel in a hasty or stupid manner.

"I swear," Joseph answered. "But why the concern now?"

Their voices trailed off as Michael strode away. Ann had always been suspicious, but pushing her husband away from him? There was a limit to that. It was necessary to hush her.

Other matters pressing, he dialed a familiar number in his workplace.

"This is Rylance. How may I be of assistance?

"This is Stewart."

"Mr. Stewart, good to hear from you. Need information?

"Is it possible to set up a mission that is intended to fail?"

"When?"

"Sturb the pot after a few more."

"Think of it as finished."

To attract engineers and scientists to investigate habitable planets, Jonathan Aston advertised his colonization project. To discourage naive candidates, he labeled the mission a "scientific exploratory mission."

The first person to be designated head of security and systems was Charles Scythane. Some compared Jonathan Aston's idea of a three-ship voyage to Columbus's trio, while others saw it as a safety net against danger that would guarantee one ship would survive.

Charles had already introduced Valery Donner and Natalie Vanderburg, who joined as chief marine biologist and botanist. Natalie went on to become second-in-command and captain of one ship.

General biologist Henry "Hank" Kingston was in charge of maintaining the alien ecosystem and crew discipline.

Gerald Minthert, a former ambassador to South Africa who was moved after the geographic upheaval, was the delegate whom the president insisted on having.

Natalie and Jonathan Aston were trained pilots, but a third was required. Natalie was left as deputy when Jonathan Aston selected Lauren Newcomen, his shield construction assistant, since he valued her leadership despite her social faults.

More scientists from a variety of disciplines will join once the first scientists joined and started training. The actual challenge was building and refining the ships.

While examining Jonathan Aston's revolutionary, tried-and-true, yet dangerous propulsion technology, Martin Wilkerson worked on his additions. He streamlined dangerous components, combining them into a single, unified machine.

Alpha Shield III was precisely targeted by the second attack. It was only a minor annoyance until the second explosion cut off its communication connections, saving lives.

The result was disastrous. Some said it happened on the 3:00 283 to Alpha Shield I, while others said it was pressure-triggered. It was detonated in the subway tube.

The people on board the 283 died instantaneously, saving them from much suffering. The fastest path to Alpha Shield III was destroyed when the explosion destroyed the train and collapsed a half-mile tunnel. It was pointless to clear it.

Unwilling to remain in seclusion, residents took busses and other means of transportation to escape. Now two of the twelve shields of Canadia were broken and lying discarded. In Alpha Shield IV, one colony ship began to take shape. Maris was eighteen months away from being hit by the sun. Everyone was in a frenzy.