Eric looked out the side door of the Cherokee as they moved along, watching the flying nap of the Earth and heading toward the FOB operating on the Texas/Mississippi border. He was staring at but not really seeing the terrain as it flew past, his thoughts tied more to the fact that he’d just been part of deploying a nuclear weapon on Confederate territory.

It was the sort of thing that no man should ever do, or have to do. The kind of thing that military nightmares were made of. The worst of it was, he knew that he wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last. Not in this new war, not with this new enemy.

He was mentally falling into a tailspin, and he knew it but didn’t care. There were some things that deserved the depression that sort of thinking would eventually bring, but this time it wasn’t to be. Before he could get too deep, a violent shake of the Cherokee startled him back to the moment and would have tossed him out the side door if he hadn’t strapped himself in already.

“Holy shit! Where the hell did that come from?”

Eric was about to ask what the pilot was talking about when he spotted the thing in question and recognized it.

“That’s a Priminae shuttle,” he said, bringing up his combat HUD and noting that several familiar IFFs were showing in his range now. “They’re friendly.”

“Damn. As fast as that sucker moves, I’m sure as hell glad of that.”

Eric ignored the pilot, opening the tactical comm channel instead. “Lieutenant, what brings you into my airspace?”

“New orders, Skipper,” Bermont said, something in his voice ringing oddly to Eric. “Need you to transfer over here.”

“I’m on mission, son,” Eric said. “Things to kill, places to destroy.”

“Sir, I think you really want to transfer over here.”

It was the tone, not the words, that caused Eric to make a decision. Something was up, and the only place he was going to figure out what was on that Priminae bird.

“Fine,” he said finally. “Aerial transfer?”

“Can do,” Bermont said a moment later. “We’ll come alongside.”

“Roger that,” Eric said, then changed over to the pilot’s channel. “Hold her steady. I’m changing horses.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

OVERSEEING WHAT HAD to be the single biggest evacuation in the planet’s history was probably the most sickening job President Conner had ever had to do, and sadly that was saying something. There were no protocols for this, no list of people to save and people to leave behind. Ironically, it might be easier if the Priminae weren’t out there. He could pick people based on skills and genetic diversity and tell himself it was for the good of humanity.

It wouldn’t be much, but it would be a balm to a tortured soul.