Luther gaped. Blinked. Wiped a hand across his mouth. “That’s because Queen Frost had allies. She went out and got the AlgonCree to fight on her side. We need allies. How do we get allies?”
“Considering we’ve alienated everyone except Pacifica—and they’re a confederation, each state acting as they will—I don’t see how it can be done,” Reagan said with remorse.
Luther’s eyes lit, his voice suddenly reinvigorated. “We’ll call for an immediate summit meeting. We can hold it in a neutral location, allow the queen, the chief, and the prime minister to bring security details. Offer to pay for their travel. I’ll wine and dine them, convince them to join us in facing the new threat.”
Jace couldn’t believe his ears. Did his father believe any of them would agree to this? Why would they? Then again, Luther Irons could be charming and persuasive. It wouldn’t hurt to try.
“Invite the Maritime Council chairman from Pacifica, someone Redfern,” Luther continued. “Where’s their capital?”
“It moves around, so no member state is shown favor,” Minister Graves replied. “I believe the Redfern administration operates from Bear River Junction, Utah.”
Luther frowned. Jace didn’t know where exactly that was—only that it was far away.
“Send them a message as well,” he declared and pounded a fist on the table. “We need allies. Promise them anything, only get them to meet with me.Beatrice, I must address the nation. Set it up. And send word to all towns and oil fields in the south to evacuate. Queen Frost saved a lot of her citizens by getting them out of the smaller towns before our army arrived. Vexler, why are you still here? Get my intel!” The colonel nodded and vacated his seat.
“I’ll draft and send all the letters at once.” The vice president rose and bowed to Luther.
“I will pray,” Quell said, “and then help you compose your speech.”
“And get my army back here at once!” Luther shot out of his chair so fast he almost toppled over. Jace reached out a hand to steady him, but his father shook it off. “I’m fine,” he growled. “This has to be the darkest day in the Republic’s history. Core Cult robots. Sun-worshiping barbarians. Why is everyone out to get me?”
The council members dispersed to see to their tasks, each appearing more worried than the one beside them. Only Jace and the three soldiers from Fort Desperado remained at the table.
“Mr. President,” said Lieutenant Crane. “What about Captain Irons and the Fort Desperado garrison? They’re down there all by themselves. They don’t even have motor vehicles. Colt sent us to the mercury mines with a requisition order so we could bring the report with haste.”
Luther scratched his head, rolled a finger in his ear, and dropped his hand to the table. “Colt’s resourceful. He’ll think of something.” He turned a despairing look to Jace and lifted his palms. “Who am I gonna send? Fort Resolute has a skeleton crew, and everyone else is at the front. That’s why I called for their immediate withdrawal. Colt is smart. He’ll handle it.”
Crane lowered his gaze. The older sergeant appeared to be fuming mad, and the young private looked terrified. “Yes, sir. He’ll think of something.” Crane stood and motioned for his comrades to follow. “Permission to report to Fort Resolute for a debriefing with the commander?”
“Go ahead,” Luther said, waving a hand without looking at them.
Crane nodded to Jace. “Jace, Colt sends his love to his family.”
Jace swallowed a lump in his throat and returned the nod. The soldiers walked out, leaving father and son alone together. There was so much Jacewanted to say but didn’t dare. His dad’s shoulders slumped, his eyes were red, and he looked … defeated.
“Remember that time we went on that hunting trip with Maddox and his boy—just the five of us?” Luther stared ahead, his eyes unfocused.
“Yeah.”
“He knew just where to find the pronghorn, how to approach undetected.” A faint smile crossed Luther’s lips, and his eyes flashed with delight. “We came home with a real haul, ate hearty all winter—got coats made from those hides.”
“I remember.” Marcus and Jace hadn’t been allowed to shoot the hunting rifles. Too little, the dads said.
“I messed up, Jace.” The light faded from Luther’s face. “God is punishing me. I let my temper get the better of me, made a rash judgment, and now?” He shook his head.
“We all make mistakes,” Jace said. “It’s what we do next that counts.”
Luther let out a dry laugh. “Sounds like what Colt would say.”
Jace felt as if an anchor hung around his neck. He wished he could take back every mean thing he’d said and done to his brother.
Chapter forty-one
Siege Aborted
Marchland, early the next morning
General Edgar Garcia stood before a mirror and water basin in his tent, a steady hand on his razor as he took time for a morning shave. He’d taken losses—more than he’d expected—but another week of bombardment, and Marchland was sure to capitulate. President Irons would be pleased with his victory and with the timetable leading to the fall elections intact. Though it had rained overnight, and he’d given his gunners a reprieve to keep their ammunition dry, a glint of sunlight shot through his tent flap at a sharp angle. Reflecting off the mirror, it stabbed his eye. He shifted position so his back blocked the blinding ray.