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"What would happen if they tried to move a nuke out of the bunker?"

"We would know it the instant it came to the surface.  We could target and destroy it before they loaded it onto a vehicle," Jimenez explained with complete confidence.

"That's good to know.” Governor Prince smiled at Director Jimenez for the first time.

"Governor, I'm glad you appr...  Wait!  Something is happening.  That can't be right!  Computer, confirm the radiation levels at Bunker 5."

"Radiation levels have increased by six hundred nineteen percent."

"God no!  They're launching a nuke!"  Stacy Reid was covering her mouth in surprise.

"Relax, ma'am.  That's not what's happening; something else is wrong."  Roberto had lifted his hands to manipulate the map on the screen to overlay a detailed weather map of the region.

"Did someone detonate a nuke and try to take out the facility?  I didn't authorize a launch, and the leaders of the Allied Forces must unanimously approve a nuclear strike launched from Europe!"  President Powers was angry but maintained his composure.

Jimenez cleared his throat. “Mr. President, a nuclear detonation has not occurred.  If it had, we would see the flash and the cloud cover would be pushed away.  If they were moving a nuke, it would show up as a small pocket of radiation, one that we could target.  The radiation levels have spiked over a ten-mile radius around the bunker and we are completely blind.  The weather system is continuing to spread the radiation even further.  Radiation levels continue to rise.  Before the sun sets on the Empire, the radioactive cloud will reach the Indian Ocean."

"Who did it?"  General Moody asked.

"The Empire is responsible," Jimenez said very slowly. 

"What?  A rebellion?  Who's trying to take over?"  Secretary Laferriere practically screamed.

A look of sad realization dawned on the president’s face.  "Admiral Mack, I want the 
Enterprise
 and the 
George Washington
 to move into the Indian Ocean and join the Fifth Fleet with all due haste.  The Empire is smuggling a warhead out of Bunker 5 in order to launch a nuclear strike on the United States.  We have to set up a blockade to ensure that they do not succeed." 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Howard Beck was tapping his fingers on the kitchen counter and continually shaking his head back and forth.  He was muttering curse words at the image on the wall across from him.  Hal was tracking a convoy of twelve Humvees slowly moving down the road that passed in front of the estate.  Howard was concentrating on the lead vehicle so hard that he was convinced that if he thought a little harder, he could control the Humvee with his mind.  He wanted nothing more in the world than for all twelve of the Humvees to zip on past the front gate and never return.

"Hal, how long before they get here?"

"Less than a minute, sir."

"Is the front gate secure?"

"Of course it is, sir."

"Shit!"

"Sir, what would you like me to do if they stop at that gate?"

"I don't want you to say a thing.  Hopefully they will give up and go away."

"Yes, sir."

Howard looked at the monitor and could see the Humvees slowing down to stop at the gate.

"Son of a bitch!  Go away!"  No!"

A man stepped out of the lead vehicle and began pacing back and forth in front of the massive iron gate.”

"No one's home!  Go away!" Howard screamed at the image on the wall.

The man stopped pacing long enough to rattle the gate, then began frantically waving his arms towards the house.”

"Leave me alone!  I'm not opening the gate!"  Howard's face reddened as he began kicking the floor.  Howard hoped that the man waving his arms would not locate the intercom button and try to talk to him.  He stared at the monitor and watched as a large group of soldiers began to congregate behind their leader.  A few of the soldiers picked up rocks and threw them over the fence towards the house.

"Stop doing that!  I'm not letting you in!  Go away!"  Howard was so upset and scared that he started to cry.

"Excuse me, sir," said Hal.

"What?" screamed Howard.

"Sir, the man waving his arms is the commanding officer.  The men behind him are talking about a wounded man who is going to die if he doesn't do something now."

Howard relaxed a little.  "You mean they aren't trying to break in and hurt me?"

"No, sir, they are seeking medical attention."

Howard took a deep breath and sat down.  "Uh..  ok, ok.  This is what I want you to do, Old Man.  I want you to talk to them on the intercom and see what the problem is.  See if they can go somewhere else."

"Sir, you want me to talk to them?"

"Yes I do, Hal.  I'm too shaken up."

"Yes, sir.  It will not be a problem.  Would you like for me to put them on speaker?"

"Please."

"Very good, sir."

Hal turned on the speaker in the kitchen so Howard could hear the company of soldiers outside his main gate.  The intercom crackled, and you could see the heads of the soldiers perk up and turn towards it.

"May I help you, gentlemen?"  Hal asked in his proper British voice.

"Thank God!  Yes!"  The man that had been waving his arms walked over to the intercom.  "My name is Captain Jackson Butler, and we are in desperate need of assistance.  We have an emergency situation on our hands.  We retreated from Denver, and one of my men was shot as we left the city.  We have managed to stop the bleeding but I'm afraid he’ll die soon if we don't get him to a hospital."

"Captain Butler, my name is Hal.  Are you aware that this is not a hospital?"

"Yes, sir, I am aware of that."

"If you continue on this road and take a left at the next intersection, a hospital is in the town thirty-three miles down the road."

"Sir, please.  We do not have that kind of time.  I have a medic with me who is ready to perform surgery, but we could do it safely in a clean, sterile environment.  My man is weak enough as it is; if the surgery doesn't kill him, infection will most certainly finish him off.  Please!  Let us in so we can save this man's life!"

"Captain Butler, are you familiar with the Third Amendment to the Constitution that states that a soldier cannot quarter in a private citizen's home during times of war unless by order of law?  I do not believe a law has been passed granting you the right to enter my home."

"Sir, please!  We are not hostile and we aren’t trying to take your home from you.  We just need to help our man, and we will be on our way.  Open the gate!"

"Please wait for a moment, Captain."

"Thank you, sir.  Please, I give you my word, we mean you no harm."

Howard was watching the entire thing and was torn by indecision.  The thought of armed soldiers on his compound, friendly or enemy, terrified him.   On the other hand, he couldn’t live with himself if he allowed a member of the armed services to die outside his gate when he had the chance to help.

"Hal?"

"I'm here, sir."

"They really got a wounded man out there?"

"Sir, I have not seen a wounded man.  Three of the soldiers at the gate had a great deal of blood on them.  They did not have any apparent injuries, so the logical conclusion is that the blood does not belong to them."

"OK, this is what I want you to do.  Tell Captain Butler that he and his men can come in.  They can drive around behind the main residence and use the guest house.  Instruct them that they are not to approach the main residence. I insist that they respect this condition."

"I will relay your decision, sir."

Captain Butler was pacing back and forth.  The intercom crackled, and he listened as the British man spoke.

"Captain Butler, I have decided to let you and your men though the gate.  I want you to follow the drive back behind the main residence and use the guest house.  It should be adequate for your needs.  I will grant you access on one condition."

"Anything!  Name it!"

"At no time are you or your men to approach the main residence."

"Hal, you have my solemn word.  Thank you."

Howard watched the image of the convoy entering his property.  He didn’t like it at all.  The thought of dozens of dirty, rough and tough soldiers on his property tearing things up almost made Howard have a panic attack.  Meredith had always nagged him about being a better host.  Guests should be welcomed with open arms and made comfortable.  Howard scoffed and just let his wife be the proper host while he pretended to be busy and disappeared to another room in the house.  People are stupid.  People are rude.  People just don't make sense.  If Howard did not hold a close, intimate relationship with someone, he'd rather not be around them.  People were unpredictable and just plain got on his nerves.

  "Sir, they are moving the injured man into the guest house.  He appears to be unconscious and his abdomen is covered in blood."

"Can you tell anything more, Hal?"

"No, sir. If he were moved to your lab I could run a detailed scan on him."

"Let's hold off on that for now.  Maybe they can get him patched up."

"Yes, sir, would you like to see the progress on the main screen?"

"Yes, please."  Howard looked at the wall opposite him and could see the men working desperately to save the wounded soldier's life.  Captain Butler was shouting orders to his men.

"OK, clear this area out and lay him on the kitchen table.  Doc, what do you need?"

Staff Sergeant Willis, the company medic, didn’t take his eyes off the wounded soldier.  "Sir, let me check my bag. I think I have everything I need; I'll let you know."

"Anything we can do in the meantime?"

The company medic checked the injured man's dog tag.  "His blood type is A negative.  I need anyone with that blood type or type O to get ready to donate blood."

"You got it, Doc.   Listen up!!  If your blood type is A negative or type O get your ass over here, now!"

"Captain, I don't know my blood type," a young private said from the back of the room.

"Check your dog tags, jackass!" another private yelled.

The ones who had forgotten their blood type checked their dog tag.  Less than a minute later, only one soldier stepped forward.

"OK, Doc.  We got one.  I can donate as well.  What else do you need?"

"Someone needs to locate the biggest pot they can find and start boiling water. I need towels and bed sheets."

"I'm on it!"  A sergeant looked at one of his team members and they started working.

"Shit!  I was afraid of this!"

"What's wrong, Doc?"

"I can get the bullet out, but it tore his small intestine. I'm going to need to stitch it up."

"Are you sure?"

"You see that?  Do you smell that?"

"Yes." Captain Butler leaned forward and winced at the smell.

There's bile mixed in with his blood.  If it’s not stitched up, he's going to die of sepsis."

"How long do we have?"

"Put it to you this way, sir, I'm amazed he's not dead already."

"Can you perform surgery?"

"Yes, but I'm going to need every single source of portable light over here.  I saw a lot of battlefield surgeries in Iraq when I was a private.  I've never performed it, but I'm confident I can get the job done as long he holds out and doesn't die on us."

Captain Butler looked at another NCO and nodded.  The sergeant grabbed two privates and they started gathering up every lamp they could find.

Howard Beck looked at the monitor and hung his head.  The injured soldier didn't have a broken leg or a flesh wound.  He stood a real chance of dying in his guest house.

"Hal, what do you think?"

"Sir, I think you know what I am going to say."

"I know, I know, we need to move him into my lab so you can assist with the surgery."

"Yes, sir, the poor man has precious little time."

"Invite our guests inside, Hal."

"Yes, sir."

Staff Sergeant Willis was hooking up an IV to the injured man and cleaning the wound when a voice came over the intercom.

"Captain Butler, if I may, I feel that I must intervene."

"Yes, Hal.  What can you do?"

"Inside the main residence is a lab that would be better suited for the surgery you are about to attempt.  We have resources that will give your injured man a much better chance at survival.  I would ask that you only bring the number of people required to tend to his needs."

"Doc?  Is it safe to move him?"

"If we take it slow and steady, yes."

"Let's get moving.  Hal, where are we going?"

"Exit the guest house and head right on the path.  Enter the door and the lab is the first room on the left."

"Thank you, Hal."

The injured man was loaded onto a stretcher, and four men carried him very slowly up the path to the main residence.  They entered the building and walked into the massive lab. Along one wall was a workbench that was home to all sorts of electronic equipment.  It looked like a computer graveyard.  In the center of the room was a solid steel table large enough to accommodate six prone men with room to spare.  The far wall was solid white, most likely a gigantic monitor.  The four men carrying the stretcher placed the injured soldier on the table.  Staff Sergeant Willis got to work.  Captain Butler turned as an odd looking man entered the room.  He was wearing a bathrobe and slippers.  He was tall and skinny with long, white hair that spilled down over his thin, gaunt face. He was fidgeting nervously and his beady eyes were darting all over the room.

"Hal, I'm Captain Jackson Butler with the Fourth Regiment of the Unified National Guard.  I want to thank you for your help."  He extended his hand to the man in the bathrobe, but the gesture was not returned.  The man wouldn’t look him in the eye.  Something was very familiar about this man.  Captain Butler was sure he had seen him before.

"I'm not Hal. My name is Howard."

"Howard, it’s nice to meet you.  Will Hal be joining us?"

"He's already here.  Hal, anything you can do to help?"

Captain Butler was startled by the voice that came out of nowhere and filled the room.  "Yes, sir.  My preliminary scans detect that his blood pressure is low but steady. Staff Sergeant Willis was correct in his assessment.  His lower intestine is perforated.  He will require a blood transfusion."

Captain Butler was confused but focused on the task at hand.  "Uh, yeah... we..uh.. we're already working on that.  PFC Boone and I are ready to donate blood.   I'm sorry, Hal, where are you?  I would like to meet you and extend my gratitude to you in person."

Howard was starting to calm down.  He said sharply, “This is my house.  Hal is my digital assistant."

"He's what?  You mean I've been talking to a computer this entire time?"

Howard nodded his head.

"Holy shit! You're Howard Beck!  The world's richest man!  I can't believe I'm in your house!"  PFC Boone had a look of shock and wonder on his face.

"I knew you looked familiar!  Sir, it’s an honor to meet you.  Thank you so much for all your help."  Captain Butler was smiling and couldn’t take his eyes off Howard.