State of Alliance

Nathanial Mero jerks sideways, slamming into my arm, taking me to the ground. Hot blood sprays across my face, over my jacket. Chris grabs my shoulder and pulls me close to him, keeping low to the podium. Two more gunshots ring out, and I see Ken Thrawn topple over, a red blossom of blood in the center of his forehead.

All of this happens in a split second, barely enough time for me to comprehend the action. My instincts are faster than my thought process. I snap my gaze to the meadow, to the tops of the buildings. I know immediately that whoever killed Nathanial and Ken is a sniper — and a good one at that. The shot was taken from a long distance, beyond the meadow.

Around the edges of the green, security is furiously returning fire, lead for lead, bullet for bullet. But they are firing at a phantom enemy. Someone has done this stealthily, and they are staying hidden.

I stay low and follow Chris off the stage, adrenaline surging through my veins. The soldiers on the green are in full battle mode, rushing to protect the remaining representatives on the stage. I guess I am included in that group, but I don’t care. I slide my handgun out of the holster on my hip, taking cover behind the curve of the concrete podium.

“What the hell was that?” Chris growls as Devin runs around the corner.

“You tell me, man,” Devin replies, panting.

Three more gunshots, and then silence. Security detachments and guards are rolling out, scouring the premises for the shooter. Where is he? How did he get in?

How have there been three assassination attempts in less than twenty-four hours? That’s insane. That should be impossible. This city — this place — is secure!

Apparently not.

“We’ve got to get you inside,” Chris says. “And the rest of the representatives.”

“It’s not just us they’re trying to kill,” I reply. “It’s the officers — you and Devin and Uriah. The top dogs.” Chris doesn’t argue. He knows I’m right.

“Let’s go,” he says.

We start to head for the cars, but Elle appears from the other side of the Humvee that we arrived in. She screams, “Don’t!! Go back, go back!”

Bravo is barking, and Chris pulls me backward. Elle sprints across the green meadow, threading through the mass of soldiers and militiamen and women taking defensive positions against the invisible attacker.

The detonation slams through us, a daisy chain series of explosions. Pieces of twisted metal hurl through the air. Flames erupt inside the vehicles, turning them inside out, spewing hot glass and metal over the meadow. I roll behind the corner of the podium and Chris shields me with his body. Devin hunkers down. Elle stumbles and falls. Chris grabs her ankle and drags her behind the cover of the podium. I pull Elle close to my chest and we huddle up together, the heat from the flames singeing my clothes, warming my face.

Bravo stays near Elle as pieces of destroyed vehicles are flung into the sky, landing everywhere. Black, billowing waves of choking smoke spreads across the meadow. It is chaos, insanity. I can feel the sweat dripping down my chest, sticking my shirt to my skin.

“What do we do?” I ask Chris.

“We get inside,” he says, repeating his earlier plan. “We get to cover.”

I get a cold, chilling flashback of the Battle of the Grapevine. I see myself ru

“Follow me!” Chris yells. “Go!”

He’s up and ru

We cross the street, quickly picking our way through the carnage of the ruined convoy. My mind is reeling — how could they have all been rigged to explode at the same time? And if they were rigged, why didn’t they blow up while everyone was inside the vehicles?

There is a row of barracks here, light tan buildings in neat rows. We slip between two of them. Chris kicks the door open and we rush inside the building. The interior has been cleared out. There is nothing but rows of bunks and shuttered windows here.

“Stay here,” Chris says.

“No freaking way!” I reply, angry. “I’m a Commander, and I do not stay behind.”

Chris opens his mouth to argue but thinks better of it. He knows that I am right. He ca

“We’ve secured the area,” Andrew says. He pauses. “I think.”

“You don’t know?” Chris says. “I’ll be damned if Omega’s going to push their way into Monterey.” He walks to the door, turning to me. “Cassidy. Stay here.” Devin gives me an apologetic look and follows Chris. Apparently birds of a feather flock together.

I heave an exasperated sigh, then turn to check on Elle.

“You okay?” I ask.

She nods, a detached expression on her face.

I look at Sophia.

“Keep an eye on Elle,” I tell her.

“But I’m—”

“—Don’t argue with me, Lieutenant.” My tone is harsh. I’m in no mood to argue with Sophia. I am in charge.

I step to the threshold of the door, overlooking the meadow. The grass appears to be smoldering, covered with hot metal, patches of plants in flames. There are militiamen and National Guard patrols going through every building, checking every nook and cra

Whoever did this is gone.

Behind me, Bravo whines softly, deliberately sitting in one place, a position I had taken him to exhibit only when he finds explosives or poison. I look at Elle. “I don’t understand,” she says, searching the room.

There is nothing below our feet but a slab of concrete.

“I’m not babysitting,” Sophia snaps. “Andrew? Come on.”

“Sophia, Cassidy gave an order—” he begins, but Sophia storms past him anyway. Andrew shakes his head. “She’s been impossible.”

“Sorry,” Elle shrugs. “Bravo must be smelling traces of old explosives in here.”

“You sure? How come he didn’t detect the explosives in the convoy?” I ask.

“He would have.”

“So what happened?”

Sophia leaves the room, infuriated. Frustrated.

Elle stands up from her crouched position next to Bravo, and suddenly the dog relaxes. She raises a confused eyebrow. “He never makes mistakes,” she says quietly. “I think it was a daisy chain. A series of linked explosions, hard to detect. And I didn’t get a chance to check everything out when we got here, anyway.”

The fact that somebody could even get inside the Presidio to do something like that is more than merely disturbing — it’s terrifying. I take a few deep breaths.

“Stick with me, Elle,” I say.

She nods. She and Bravo follow me outside, into the clearing. The wreckage is depressing, and the bodies of the soldiers who were caught in the explosion lie twisted at u

“It doesn’t get any easier,” I tell Elle softly. “It helps to think of why you’re here when you see this stuff. Remind yourself of the good things.”

Elle stares at me, licking her lips.

“It’ll be okay,” I say.

I walk to Chris. He looks tired. There are dark circles around his eyes, and there is nothing but sheer anger in his voice.

“Bravo caught an explosives scent in the barracks,” I tell Chris.

“I’ll have the bomb squad check it out,” Devin replies, overhearing our conversation. “My God, have we got some cleanup to do.”