CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Kay stood in John Gunnison’s old office at the Zodiac and gazed out at the mild autumn day.
She’d never thought to find herself in Topeka again, much less Johnny’s old domain. She wouldn’t have come back here, but Kansas had no important factories and was too far from World United to be in danger.
World United. Kay’s fingernails bit at her elbows.
When she’d fled New Manhattan, Kay had at first planned only to stay away until Vancour was captured and things cooled down. The news that had come instead stunned her.
She’d been in a hotel in Baltimore and had sunk slowly onto the bed, clutching the phone’s black receiver to her ear as the Head Gun frantically reported World United’s attack on New Manhattan.
No, thought Kay, dazed. This could not be happening. “Fight!” she’d shouted. “You’ve got to hold it!”
Less than two days later, New Manhattan had been “liberated”.
The thought of her lost capital city sent hot needles pricking across her skin. The unexpected fighting force that had only recently attacked her holdings in Alaska and along the south-west coast now had a beachhead to the east too.
“We’ll get the WU out of there, don’t worry,” Keaton’s crackling voice on the long-distance line had said grimly. He was currently out west, battling World United’s other troops. “That island’s vital.”
Airports in key surrounding cities – Baltimore, Boston, Philly – were quickly made into bases. The Can-Amer air force had been gearing up for months, preparing for Black Moon. Now Kay’s planes were battling above her own soil. Liaising with Keaton, she’d been orchestrating attacks on New Manhattan for weeks.
But World United’s air force was already ensconced there, along with the gathering troops. Though Kay had ordered almost daily bombing raids for nearly a month, the WU pilots had so far managed to hold the city. They were skilled, the best of the best – former Peacefighters, no doubt. Kay thought of Amity Vancour and wanted to throw something.
At first the WU pilots had merely fended off her strikes against the island. Then more planes had arrived from the EA and they’d begun attacking her eastern holdings. For the past ten days, the whole region had become too unstable for Kay to remain in. Bombing raids – signalled by singing sirens and the terrifying whistling of incoming missiles – had come frequently, targeting munitions factories, railroads, shipyards.
She pressed her forehead against the glass and watched a bus glide down Zodiac Avenue. Here in Topeka, two thousand miles away, it was as if there was no war at all.
She hated being back in this place.
Deliberately, Kay straightened and turned, taking in the ornate office with its heavy wooden desk and gilt murals. Her office now. She’d have thought herself a coward if she’d used any other.
Strange to recall how much she used to love coming in here and giving Johnny her reports, back when she’d first been appointed Chief Astrologer and had strode down the Zodiac’s corridors in her high heels, on top of the world.
One mural showed a golden archer, half-man, half-horse, shooting an arrow upwards. Kay’s muscles hardened. All at once she saw again Gunnison standing against that wall, a solid man with blond hair greying at the temples. I bet you’ve done this a lot, haven’t you, Kiki?
From his grip on the back of her neck as he pushed her downwards, it hadn’t been a choice. Someone could have walked in any second. She’d found it exciting. The most powerful person in the world, and he couldn’t wait to have her.
That’s what she’d told herself anyway.
Kay shivered and then hated herself. Moving suddenly, she grabbed up the phone. She dialled. When a voice answered, she said, “I want painters up here. Now.” A pause; she tapped her fingers on the desk. “I don’t care! Any colour.”
When the painters – two men in white jumpsuits – arrived, she took a paint can from them. Devon Cream. She chipped a fingernail prising open the lid.
“Madame President, we’ll do that! And we haven’t put down drop cloths yet…”
She ignored them. They fell silent as she grabbed a paintbrush and swirled it in the can. Paint dripping onto the carpet (good!) she slapped the brush against the wall, obliterating the centaur’s tail. Another wild stroke, and part of his back vanished. She kept on and on, her motions frenzied, craning on tiptoes to reach the archer’s bow. The painters watched mutely, not daring to comment.
When she’d finished, faint gold markings still showed through. Something had been exorcised all the same. Take that, Johnny.
Kay let the still-dripping paintbrush fall to the floor.
“Black,” she said. “I want this whole wall black. And then a golden Scorpio mural. With stars.”
“We have to do it,” Kay said into the phone against her right ear. She had a receiver to each one, carrying on a double conversation. Keaton’s voice – once so reassuring and confident – was starting to sound hounded.
“We’re trying, Madame President. We’ve lost dozens of bombers; even more Scorpions. We’re training new pilots as fast as we can, but—”
“Black Moon won’t be compromised, will it?”
Silence from the other end.
“It can’t be,” Kay whispered. Her gaze flicked to the new mural. The scorpion’s spiky tail glinted, yet in her mind’s eye she could still see the archer…and Johnny standing there.
No. She was the powerful one now. Kay saw again the mental image of a mushroom cloud against a darkened moon and steeled herself from it.
“Madame President—”
“Listen to me,” Kay interrupted. “We are launching a nuclear strike against the European Alliance. The bomb will drop on Florence during the February lunar eclipse. And then our ground troops will move in. We’ll take the EA. From there, Africa. From there – you know the plan! Black Moon will go ahead.”
Keaton said levelly, “If you give me the order when the time comes, I’ll do it, Madame President. But it’s vital that we defend our own soil. From our intelligence reports, they very likely realize that we only have two nuclear devices at present—”
“I know! ”
“So if we use one before their troops are defeated, they’ll redouble their efforts – do anything to destroy you! Madame President, we must reclaim New Manhattan and protect our holdings to the north.”
Kay squeezed the phone receiver to her ear with her shoulder and slid open her desk drawer.
She pulled out a copy of the Black Moon chart. Her eyes flicked over it.
She collected herself and spoke into the other receiver. “Benedict, did you hear some of that? General Keaton needs more planes as soon as possible.”
The new voice was static-y. “We’re putting a rush job on the new factories, Madame President. But those three we’ve lost in the Western Quarter have hurt us. And their troops are still advancing.”
“Stop them!”
“We’re trying.”
We’re trying had become Kay’s least favourite words. “Liaise with my husband about fortifying the holdings to the far north,” she said. “Mr Reed is authorized to act on my behalf.”
“I have been, Madame President. Mr Reed has been most helpful – a true benefit to our Harmonic society.”
After Kay hung up both receivers, she studied the chart again, gently touching the spiky M that was Scorpio in the ascendant. There was nothing to astrology, of course, not really. But it was comforting anyway.
Fate didn’t help people who sat back and waited for it, though. Keaton was right: they had to get New Manhattan back. Without that crucial toehold, the WU’s eastern forces would fall.
As Kay put the chart away, she wondered what Collis had learned from Atomic Harmony Devices. Thinking of the nuclear weapons factory buried deep in the Yukon, she shut the drawer sharply.
Please, let him have good news, she thought.
“Wait for me. I’m going out,” Kay told her bodyguards a few days later. They’d jus
t reached her private rooms. The two men nodded and posted themselves outside the double panelled doors.
As Kay entered the suite, she relaxed a little. In this matter, she’d faltered. She could not – would not – set foot ever again in Johnny’s private chambers. She’d chosen instead the most lavish suite in the Scorpio dome and refused to chide herself for it.
She got changed quickly, ignoring the dozens of expensive, tailored outfits in her closet and choosing instead a plain skirt and sweater, like a credit-an-hour secretary might wear.
Looking in the mirror, she carefully unpinned her curls. She combed out her hair, then tied a scarf over it and reached for a pair of sunglasses.
A knock came. Kay looked apprehensively towards the front room; her schedule was supposed to be clear. She hurried to open the door.
“What—” she started, and then broke off, surprise and an odd buoyancy rushing through her.
Collis stood there. He raised a wry eyebrow.
One of her bodyguards said, “Sorry, Madame President. We weren’t sure whether—”
“Mr Reed doesn’t need your permission to enter,” Kay said.
She ushered Collis in and closed the door. He’d clearly come straight from travelling – he wore rumpled chinos, a creased blue shirt. He put his suitcase down. It was the first time she’d seen him since the day they’d gotten married.
“Hello, Mrs Reed,” he said softly. He tossed his jacket aside and drew her to him. He bent his head to hers.
With no thought, Kay pressed close, twining her arms around his neck. When the kiss ended, she gazed at him with her hands on his chest, frowning. She’d missed him, yet now that he was here she felt flustered somehow; irritated with herself because of it.
“I’m keeping my own name,” she said.
Collis gave a small smile. “Fine.” He kissed her again. It felt like giving in to let herself enjoy it so much.
When he drew back, he started to say something, then looked her up and down. His mouth quirked. “What’s this?” He tugged lightly at the scarf.
She’d forgotten her outfit. Her chin jutted up as her neck heated. “I was going out.”
“Like that? Madame President?”
She pulled away. “What’s the news from Atomic Harmony Devices, Collis?”
He sighed, his faint teasing air fading. “It’s detailed. Basically, the answer is ‘not yet’.”
“You’re sure they’re not fobbing you off?”
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
Kay wanted to swear, to kick something. She walked briskly to the bedroom. But when she picked up her sunglasses, she just stood playing with them, looking down. Collis followed.
If he laughs, I’ll kill him. “I go out sometimes,” she said curtly. “Like this, so no one can recognize me. I just…like to walk, when I’m feeling blue. Look at places I used to know.”
He didn’t laugh. His changeable eyes met hers in the mirror – forest green in the sunlight angling in from the window. The understanding in them reassured her a little.
“It’s silly,” she said.
“No, it’s not.”
Collis glanced down at his travel-creased clothes – much more casual than what he usually wore. He pulled off his tie and undid his collar button; rolled up his shirtsleeves. He took a pair of sunglasses from his upper shirt pocket, then mussed his always-immaculate hair.
“What do you think?” he said.
As Collis told her what he’d found out, they walked down a busy Topeka street with the bodyguards following half a block behind.
“They can’t make any more bombs faster than they’re already doing it.” Collis had his hands in his trouser pockets, his fedora pulled low.
Almost two years ago, as a black market astrologer, Kay had walked this same street after being released from her arrest, terrified that she might still receive a death sentence. The memory flitted past.
“But they have everything they need,” she said tightly.
“Not quite. They need more yellowcake.”
“I thought they had whole storehouses full!”
“They still need more.”
Collis explained what he’d learned as they skirted the edge of Pierce Park: yellowcake, made from the raw uranium ore mined at Harmony Five, needed to be treated still further to extract the metal needed to make a nuclear bomb.
“It’s not an efficient process, apparently,” he said. “Just getting a small amount of uranium takes tons of yellowcake. The two bombs they’ve got now were years in the making.”
“I can’t wait years.”
“No. But it’ll be another few months, at least.”
They’d reached the graceful arch that was the Bradford Bridge. They stopped halfway across it, leaning against the railing. The wind sang in the wires above, barely audible over the traffic.
Kay tapped the railing. “What if I make the mine increase production?”
Collis shook his head. “It’s already working to full capacity. The ore isn’t a very high grade – it’s why the ancients didn’t bother with it.” He contemplated the Kansas River glumly. “Too bad that the Western Seaboard mine depleted so quickly.”
Before they’d destroyed themselves, the ancients had mined almost all the world’s uranium. The discovery of traces of the mineral in a dusty Western Seaboard town had been why Johnny seized that region. But there, too, the ancients had plundered the mine before him. The Harmony Five mine was the only one Kay had.
“Anyway,” said Collis finally. “The scientists say it’ll be summer before they have enough for another device.”
“Not in time for Black Moon in February then,” Kay muttered. She’d been hoping to take World United, so certain that she only had two bombs, by surprise.
Fine; it didn’t matter. A time of power – great change. When the time came, she’d give the order…and Keaton would carry it out.
She glanced at Collis. “I need you to keep liaising up in that area.”
“Yes, fine.”
“Are we moving the bombs?” No one was certain if World United knew the facility’s location.
“No. I discussed it with Keaton – the place is a natural fortress, with all the mountains around it. Even if they know the location, we’re better off leaving them there.” Collis grimaced. “It’s a good thing – I’m not even sure where else would be safer, with everything going on.”
Kay glared at the tumbling water. “We have to get New Manhattan back,” she muttered.
“We will.” Collis turned and leaned his back against the railing. He hesitated, then put his hand over hers.
“Hey,” he said.
Kay looked up, wary at his change of tone – even warier at the flutter that went through her because of it.
“You, um…said you’d miss me,” he said. “Did you?”
Kay glanced down at her plain gold wedding ring, still unfamiliar. Why had she married Collis? She wasn’t entirely sure, except that she’d been so taken aback by his proposal…and had also known instinctively that marriage meant more to him than to her. He might betray a lover, but not a wife.
“We’re one now,” he’d whispered after the Justice of the Peace had pronounced them wed. Kay was certain she hadn’t mistaken the depth of emotion in his eyes as they kissed.
“One,” she’d agreed huskily.
Now, as Collis’s question hung in the air, Kay rubbed her ring with the side of her pinkie finger. Yes, she wanted to say. She’d missed him in her bed at night; missed talking things over with him during the day; missed their secret, warm-between-the-sheets conversations. She’d looked forward to his regular letters and phone calls.
I still want to know what it’s like to wake up with you, he’d written in the last one.
She shrugged, not looking at him. “Maybe a little,” she said.
That night, for the first time, Collis didn’t slip into her room in the late hours. He unpacked his suitcase and hung his clothes in the walk-in closet. He took a
shower and brushed his teeth in her bathroom.
Their bathroom now, Kay supposed. She could have insisted on him having his own rooms, but found she had no desire to. This didn’t alarm her as much as she thought it probably should have.
She sat in bed hugging her knees, watching him get ready. “Do you always do that when you brush your teeth?”
He glanced at her through the open bathroom door. “What?” he mumbled.
She motioned. “That…thing.”
Collis was easing himself up and down on his toes. He spat out his toothpaste, rinsed his mouth and grinned. “No,” he said. “Calf stretches. They’re kind of sore, after the long flight.”
When he finally slipped between the sheets, wearing his boxers, it felt strange – him coming to bed to sleep, as well as for whatever else happened.
Collis seemed to sense it. He lay on his elbow, facing her. Very gently, he touched her hair.
“I like it like this,” he said. “Down your back.”
“I know. But it’s not very stylish.”
He shrugged his toned shoulders. There was a pause; she could hear the creaking of crickets from outside.
“I guess this is kind of our wedding night,” Collis said. It hadn’t occurred to Kay. She smiled slightly. “I guess it is.” Then she remembered: “But we can’t do very much. I’ve got my monthly.”
“That’s okay. I’m just happy that you’re not going to throw me out of bed tonight.” His lips twisted. “You’re not, are you?”
“No. You’re my husband.” Though she’d said it partly to gauge his reaction, Kay was surprised at the look that flickered in his eyes – and how it tugged at her.
When she’d fled New Manhattan, she’d taken some of Collis’s files. Going through them, she’d found one containing information about his parents. She’d been far more fascinated by this than it warranted. She’d gazed at the images of Clara “Goldie” and Henry “Hank” Reed for a long time, searching for Collis in their eyes, the lines of their jaws.
He looked like his mother.
From nowhere, Kay heard herself say, “I’m going ahead with Black Moon. No matter what.”
“I know,” Collis said quietly.