They now had a few dozen people, mostly NYPD officers but also a few tagalongs brought in by the police or who wandered in on their own. New York was a big city, and out of its millions of people there were more than a few too stupid, stubborn, or adventurous to stay in hiding. Curiosity had brought a few of them here, and that was fine. He didn’t have armor for them, but they did have a fair supply of assault weapons and magazines. More than enough for the crowd they had.

“Are you expecting anyone else?”

Eric glanced up to see Granger approach, now clad in a fresh suit of armor and shouldering the heavy assault rifle to match. The SWAT commander looked bad, pale, and weathered, but Eric could hardly blame him. He didn’t know how many cops had died since the Drasin landed, but he could guess that it wasn’t a small number. The men and women around were too serious at the moment, too focused, for it to be anything less.

“Two more, at least,” he answered.

“You’ve got eight more suits empty,” Ian reminded him.

“Wishful thinking,” Eric admitted. “I’ll wait for Janet and Alexander to get here, then decide on the ones that are left.”

The SWAT commander nodded slowly. “Fair enough. You have a plan?”

“Depends,” Eric said, not looking up. “Is genocide a plan?”

DEEP BELOW 1600 PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE, WASHINGTON, D.C.

THE PRESIDENT FELT as if he’d been trying to get a handle on the current crisis for days, weeks even, and so it was with a naked look of disbelief that he checked the clock and realized that it had been just a little over six hours since the first alien invader had impacted the surface of the Earth. It seemed impossible. There was no way that he could be this tired and this wrung out in just six hours, but there it was.

“Mr. President, Mr. Bahnner is here to see you.”

The President sighed. Really, the last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment was the senator, but the man was the chair of the Senate’s science and technology board. Unfortunately, that meant that his appointment had been entirely political and the man knew less about science and technology than your average four-year-old.

“Jack”—he forced a smile—“good to speak with you.”

“Thank you, Mr. President,” Bahnner said, returning the smile very briefly. “I wanted to speak with you about the order you issued . . .”

“Jack, I’ve been issuing orders all afternoon. You’re going to have to be just a little more specific.”

“Mr. . . . Mitchell, you circumvented my committee with your orders to DARPA concerning the t-cannon . . .”

“Stop right there,” President Conner said, holding up one hand. “Have you noticed what room we’re in?”

“Excuse me?”

“Despite appearances, are we in the Oval Office?” he asked slowly, as if to a child.