The one who looked remarkably like Director Drusus approached and met Maria Chavez on the tarmac. They spoke together, shook hands, and hugged.

  Holovid stations around the world broadcast sighs of relief and hope.

  More delegates arrived. Some of those were important people in the World Government. Most of those were surprised they had been invited to such a glorious event. Others at home were astounded to find they had been forgotten. They thought they were tight with the Director. This showed they were wrong about that. A few wondered if this was the end of their political careers.

  Senior General Tom Bain, who should have been in Greenland, was still recovering in Delhi, India. He felt much better than before.

  In his place at Greenland was Colonel Sharma of the Kali Intelligence Division. She and her aides were delighted to have arrived.

  The one who looked like Livia Drusus failed to uncover the switch. Drusus’s security team running the event also failed in that regard.

  Soon, a space plane came down from the orbitals. Many in Greenland looked up as its heat shield still glowed. Then giant chutes appeared. Finally, under jet-assisted power, the space plane landed on the extremely long runway. Interestingly, only a few people exited the space plane. Among them was a thick, muscular man with gray hair and a wide face. His muscles seemed bulkier than ever. He walked down the ramp, waving to the cameras.

  The one who looked like Livia greeted him at the bottom. If it had been the real Livia Drusus, would she have noticed the difference? Probably, as this man did not have CEO James Petty’s arrogance. There was a small man with long hair at the back. No one knew it was a wig—except for the Dr. Huber double wearing it.

  In an hour, all the delegates came together in a giant auditorium. This was the introductory session. The security personnel reviewed the lists. Every invited guest had come. That meant this was a great throng of political power. These were the rulers of Earth and orbital space. The mighty peace initiative had become fact… it seemed.

  Far away in Delhi, from her underground bunker complex, Livia watched the proceedings. She wondered if it would have been better to pull off a real peace initiative. No, the aliens changed everything. The aliens had put a timer on everything. Earth only had so long until the aliens made their next strike. Her chief strategy officers had agreed with that, even Senior General Bain.

  “Bain,” Livia said, laughing silently afterward. She would soon be rid of him.

  Livia was not aware that Senior General Tom Bain was nearby, about eight kilometers to the west. He was presently shooting hoops at a special gym, rolling his shoulders and trying to get back his former limberness. He felt much better, thank you. Not one hundred percent better, but he was getting there. As he shot hoops, he watched a large screen to the side displaying the Greenland Conference.

  In the Greenland auditorium, as the introduction continued, and as security personnel glanced uneasily at each other, a clock deep below was ticking. It showed less than three minutes until detonation.

  -16-

  In the former Eastern Settlement of Greenland, nestled deep within a reinforced underground chamber, was a nuclear device code-named “Prometheus.” Encased in layers of reinforced steel and concrete, the device was connected to a network of triggers, ensuring it would function precisely.

  As the countdown reached zero, an electrical signal initiated the detonation sequence. Inside the bomb, conventional explosives compressed a core of plutonium-239, initiating a chain reaction. Neutrons collided with plutonium nuclei, splitting them and releasing an enormous amount of energy.

  The explosion began with an intense flash of gamma radiation, invisible but lethally powerful, permeating the surrounding earth and rock. Within microseconds, the core’s temperature soared. This immense heat generated a plasma ball, a seething mass of energy and ionized particles that expanded at an incredible rate.

  The surrounding steel and concrete vaporized almost instantly, creating a cavity that expanded at ferocious speed. The ground above the device bulged upward, then erupted, sending a shockwave through the earth that fractured bedrock and lifted the frozen ground.

  The blast wave erupted from the ground like a monstrous tidal force, a wall of compressed air moving at supersonic speeds. The initial flash blinded anyone looking in its direction, even through closed eyelids.

  Above ground, the effects were immediate. The central dome vaporized in an instant. The reinforced materials and architectural feats meant nothing against the nuclear explosion. The structure and its occupants were turned into a cloud of incandescent gas, spreading outward at terrifying speed.

  The blast wave followed, a forceful hand sweeping across the settlement. Fast-constructed apartments crumbled as if made of sand, walls disintegrating and roofs collapsing. The shockwave shattered windows and ripped doors from their hinges, the debris becoming deadly projectiles.

  In the fjords, the anchored ships faced a sudden and violent demise. The water surrounding them momentarily vaporized, causing the ships to rise out of the sea before being smashed back down by the ensuing wave. Hulls buckled under the pressure. Fires ignited as fuel tanks ruptured, creating infernos on the water’s surface.

  On the super runway, the planes and space plane were caught in the maelstrom. The blast wave hit them with brutal force, tearing wings from fuselages and igniting fuel tanks. Massive fireballs erupted, consuming the aircraft in seconds. The once-smooth and meticulously engineered tarmac fractured and split, creating fissures that swallowed parts of the runway and the wreckage of aircraft alike.

  As the shockwave spread, it flattened everything in its path, transforming the landscape into a desolate plain of rubble and fire. The air filled with a toxic mixture of smoke, radioactive dust, and the acrid stench of burning materials.

  The mushroom cloud, a ghastly, towering column of smoke and fire, rose into the sky, casting a shadow over the land and signaling the catastrophe to those watching.

  The holovid connections cut off almost immediately, so those glued to their screens only realized they had suddenly lost sight of the event.

  The immediate area surrounding the explosion became a lifeless zone. The intense heat and radiation incinerated all living things within the blast radius, while those on the periphery suffered lethal doses of radiation, burns, and injuries from debris and the shockwave.

  As the mushroom cloud continued to climb, spreading its deadly payload into the stratosphere, the once-temporary haven for Earth’s powerful became a graveyard. The settlement, with its domes, apartments, ships, planes, and people, was no more—having become a wasteland of twisted metal, scorched earth, and haunting silence, at least once the winds died down.

  -17-

  The train rattled and clanked as it rolled into the outskirts of Delhi, its aging diesel engines chugging laboriously. The city’s chaotic sprawl began to appear through the grimy train windows.

  John Steele sat handcuffed to a metal bench, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. He knew the city’s heart lay ahead, hidden in the tangle of streets and buildings. The leader of the Jihadist Freedom Party, Ibrahim Mansour, stood nearby, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Ibrahim’s dark eyes told of a deadly resolve.

  Oddly, no news had yet spread of the nuclear attack in Greenland.

  “Stay close,” Ibrahim said as the train began to slow.

  The commando team had prepared for this moment for months, and now, the culmination of their efforts was within reach.

  As the train lurched to a stop, the team disembarked. They blended into the throng of passengers, their World Government uniforms and worn duffle bags giving no hint of their deadly intentions. Alvarez pushed Steele, a tight grip on his arm.

  They pushed through the bustling station, where the voices of the crowd and the scent of street food mingled with the stench of diesel. Ibrahim led the way, no doubt eager to begin.

  Outside the station, beat-up vans waited, their engines idling. The team loaded their bags into the back and carried two crates, being careful to keep their weapons and nuclear devices concealed. Ibrahim glanced around, satisfied that they had attracted no undue attention.

  Once loaded, the vans left the train station, weaving through the narrow streets of Delhi as the drivers took a circuitous route to avoid surveillance. The great city was a maze with towering skyscrapers casting their nightlights over dilapidated shanties. They passed markets where the last vendors hawked their goods. Only a few children played in the streets, while occasional military patrols sped by in modern electric vehicles.

  Delhi was home to the famous Taj Mahal and the Red Fort, which had once served as the main residence of the legendary Mughal emperors.

  Eventually, the vans reached an unassuming warehouse on the edge of the city. The vans pulled into a side alley, and the team unloaded, disappearing into the warehouse. Inside, the warehouse was sparsely furnished with glaring lights overhead, a few crates stacked haphazardly, and a table strewn with maps and electronic equipment.

  “We don’t have much time,” Ibrahim said, gathering his men around the table. “We strike tonight. Every second counts.”

  He pointed to a map of the underground sewer system, marking entry points and subterranean security stations. The team members nodded, having absorbed these details weeks ago. Ibrahim turned to Steele as his expression hardened.

  “You will be coming with us,” Ibrahim said. “We have a special role for you, one Aziz would have insisted on doing.”

  Steele tried to keep his face impassive. He had no choice but to follow their lead. When would his moment come?

  The team spent the next hour making final preparations. Weapons were checked and rechecked, explosives carefully assembled and packed, and the nuclear devices were unpacked from the crates. Each man knew his role, including Carlos Alvarez.

  As night deepened over Delhi, with still no word of the event in Greenland, Ibrahim called his men together one last time.

  “Tonight, we make history. For Allah and for our brothers, we will succeed. There is no room for failure.”

  Afterward, the team moved out, leaving the relative safety of the warehouse and stepping into the cool night air. The streets were quieter now as the Moon rose into the starry sky.

  Steele was still under close guard, hoping for a single moment to turn this around. For now, he was a pawn, the clock ticking toward the moment of reckoning, or his swiftly approaching death.

  -18-

  The Moon hung low over Delhi, casting a pale light as Sardar Ibrahim and his team parked the vans. They opened the side doors, passing out weapons, heavy duffel bags and two man-portable nuclear devices. Two men carried each ponderous device by its iron handles, much as Steele and Ramirez had done on the Moon.

  Loaded down, the extended team approached an old entrance to the sewers. The narrow alley was deserted, the silence broken only by the distant hum of traffic and the occasional bark of a stray dog. The group, clad in tactical gear, moved through dirt and old, castoff debris.

  Steele knew that any attempt to escape now would be futile. Alvarez’s watchful eyes never left him. In truth, Steele could feel the weight of the man’s suppressed rage against him.

  Hidden behind piles of discarded crates and rubbish, they came across a large, rusted steel grate. Ibrahim signaled a halt and gestured to one of the commandos, who moved forward with a breaching charge. The rest of the team backed up, securing the alley, keeping a lookout for any police or civilians who might stumble upon them.

  Ibrahim watched as the man fixed the breaching charge, the device emitting a faint beep as it was armed.

  “Stand clear,” the commando whispered, getting up fast.

  Ibrahim retreated while the others took cover near surrounding walls and debris.

  With a muffled thud, the charge detonated. The grate clanged as it hit the ground, while dust and smoke billowed from the dark entrance.

  “Go, go, go,” Ibrahim said, his voice tight.

  Everyone surged forward, weapons raised and eyes scanning for targets. They slipped through the smoke into the tunnel beyond.

  These were old sewers, part of a vast network in what had once been the second most populated city on Earth. They reached a dimly lit region, with the occasional fluorescent light casting shadows on dirty concrete walls. The tunnel was empty, but this was only the beginning.

  The team had already split into two uneven parts—one to secure the entry point and the larger to push deeper into the sewers.

  Alvarez stayed close to Steele, his pistol drawn and pointed at the lieutenant’s back. “Move,” he hissed, giving Steele a shove.

  Steele complied, his mind working furiously as he sought to keep up his morale.

  As the team advanced, they ran into two guards, perhaps having heard the blast and coming to investigate. The guards had flashlights on their assault rifles, the beams playing over the concrete.

  Three JFP commandos knelt and raised silenced weapons. Soft phuts sounded. The bodies crumpled before they could raise an alarm. Ibrahim hurried forward and stepped over the fallen guards, motioning for everyone else to follow.

  Soon, the team reached a security checkpoint. It was newer but they’d known about it. It was a small guard station with a heavy steel door blocking the way. The guard inside reached for his radio, having just seen them. Before the guard could call, a well-placed shot from one of the commandos starred the window glass and took him down with a headshot.

  “We need to override the security protocols,” Ibrahim said, turning to one of his tech experts.

  Two other commandos burst into the station while Ibrahim spoke, ensuring the guard was dead.

  The tech expert, a wiry man with a backpack full of equipment, hurried forward as the other two commandos dragged the dead guard out, depositing his corpse in the shadows. The technician began to work inside on the security panel.

  As the tech hacked into the system, the rest of the team prepared for any possible responses. The seconds ticked away. Some of the commandos looked anxious, shifting from foot to foot.

  Steele looked back at Alvarez, who gave him a nasty grin, while raising the heavy pistol slightly.

  “Almost there,” the tech called through the open door. Soon, with a beep, the lock disengaged, and the steel door slid open.

  “Move,” Ibrahim said.

  The team flowed through the opening. They were now inside the main sewer complex, which extended everywhere beneath Delhi, including under the World Government’s military command bunker.

  Steele’s gut tightened. His opportunity to escape was almost gone. He had hoped to leave them by now. Even if he escaped, could he return to this point and break through the others at the alley entrance?

  Steele concentrated on memorizing the complex route. He’d had several glimpses of the sewer map during the long train ride. He had tried to memorize that, too, but it had been far too complicated.

  The team moved relentlessly through the labyrinthine tunnels, the men carrying the nuclear devices panting because of their weight. It helped that much of the way led down. Twenty minutes later, they reached an intersection. Sardar Ibrahim raised a hand to halt them. He listened intently.

  “It’s clear,” Ibrahim whispered. “Don your night goggles.”

  They had been using the fluorescent lights. Those had started to become sparser.

  Everyone except Steele slid night-vision goggles over their eyes.

  The first phase was complete. They had breached the main sewers and reached the deeper levels.

  With a nod, Ibrahim signaled his team, and the commandos hurried forward. The bomb men hefted their nuclear devices, grunting as they started moving again. Phase Two had just begun.

  -19-

  Steele adjusted to the oppressive gloom, as the faint glow of phosphorescent markers guided the way through Delhi’s massive sewer system. The weight of earth above seemed to press against his psyche. The team’s steps echoed off the close walls, adding to the sense of desperation. The smell had become overwhelming: an awful mix of decay, rot, stagnant water, and shit.

  Sardar Ibrahim marched ahead with the determined stride of a man on a mission. His heavily armed commandos followed. They moved through the narrow, grimy passages, straining to reach their destination.

  Steele carried a heavy pack, one of the commandos having shoved it at him. The commando had twisted his ankle, and paused to tie his bootlaces tighter, but now limped, struggling to keep up. Steele’s mind raced with possibilities, but just as quickly rejected them as impossible.

  As they marched deeper into the sewer system, the air grew colder, and the tunnels more constricted. The phosphorescent markers, placed at irregular intervals, provided just enough light for him to see where he was going. The sense of claustrophobia grew as they descended deeper. The commandos seemed tense, no doubt expecting trouble.

  Steele had spent the dhow and train ride studying his captors, learning their routines, their strengths, and weaknesses. He yearned for a distraction that would give him a chance to escape. He needed Alvarez to look away. If he ran, though, they would just sprint after him.

  Suddenly, a loud crack echoed through the tunnel. A commando cursed. Something rolled toward them. Ibrahim shouted a warning just as a blinding flash erupted. Guards sprang from hidden alcoves, their laser sights slicing through the darkness.

  Steele hit the floor as he clutched the heavy duffel bag.

  Gunfire deafened the confined space. It was madness. Bullets ricocheted off the tunnel walls, sparks flying in all directions. Other bullets struck armored vests, while others sank into soft flesh. Men began to scream. At the same time, the acrid smell of gunpowder filled the air, mixing with the sewer’s stench to create an unbearable odor.

  Steele’s numbed mind, caught by surprise, snapped back into gear. This was his chance. He’d never get a better one.