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Superiority

Chapter 13

Dimitri stared across his new throne room. Only a few hours ago, his old friend had died, leaving the entire nation to him. He wanted to be happy that he was Emperor, but he couldn't knowing his friend had died to give it to him.

He had beefed up security, to prevent his own assassination, although it seemed much less likely, considering he didn't have nearly as much controversy surrounding him. Even so, he still liked the increased Imperial Guard presence.

"The transport is almost here, Your Majesty," said Roger, his assistant, referring to the jet bringing his son home.

"Thank you, Roger," replied Emperor Nosov. "I am to be notified immediately upon it landing."

"Yes, Your Majesty," said Roger, before leaving the room.

Dimitri's wife, Alga had demanded that their son be returned from the front lines immediately after he had taken power. She was a very demanding woman. He had protested at first, considering the implications it could have on his power. How could he expect anybody to trust that he would keep them alive, if he brought his son back from the military? How is it fair that just because he is the son of The Emperor, he is immune from the draft? But in the end, Alga won.

"Thank you, Dimitri," said Alga, who was sitting to his right. "I'm so happy to be able to bring him home."

"Dimitri turned to face her. "Alga, he left originally to serve his country. How is being in the military any different?" he asked.

"Before," she started. "He was at minimal risk. Now people are trying to kill him."

Dimitri looked away. There was no arguing with her. She was stubborn. Perhaps more stubborn than he was, if that was possible.

The silence was broken with a hailing from the intercom. Dimitri answered the call, and Wharton appeared on the screen.

"Greetings, Your Majesty," he started. "We have need of you in the War Council Chambers, it's urgent."

"I'm on my way, Wharton," replied Emperor Nosov, as he ascended from his chair, ending the call.

"Dimitri?" asked Alga. "What am I to tell your son, when he lands, and you're not here to greet him?"

Dimitri turned to look at her. "Alga," he started. "When Wharton says something is urgent, it's urgent. He can wait just a moment."

Alga shot him an annoyed look, before he walked out of the room, heading for the War Council Chambers. Whatever Wharton had to say, better be important.

"When was this confirmed?" asked Dimitri.

"Informants reported NATO support just hours ago. It's all still very secretive, they apparently don't want us to know yet."

Dimitri leaned back in his chair. This was a predicament. Now he had to worry about more than Canada. This wasn't exactly a warm greeting to the throne.

"When will the ICBM arsenal be prepared for launch?" asked Dimitri.

"Unfortunately," said Freeman, joining the conversation. "Not for at least two more months."

"How large is the presence?" asked Dimitri.

Wharton shrugged his shoulders. "The informant works in an intelligence facility. All he knows is that NATO is there, nothing more."

Dimitri clawed the edge of the table. He couldn't act, until he knew what NATO participating countries were involved, and how large the force was.

"I need that information," he said. "I need it immediately."

"Yes, Your Majesty," replied Wharton. "I'll have the Intelligence Department on that as soon as possible."

"See that you do," replied Nosov.

Freeman looked at his watch. "Terribly sorry, Your Majesty," he started. "I have something very important to do, if you'll excuse me."

"I suppose, Freeman," replied Dimitri, annoyed that he could find something more important than a War Council meeting.

A few hours later, the meeting was finished. Roger met Dimitri in the hallway outside of the Chambers.

"The transport has arrived, Your Majesty," he said.

"Thank you, Roger," replied Dimitri. "I'll go greet him now."

.....

Alga stared out the window of her dressing room, as her new wardrobe assistant was fitting her for the attire she would be wearing to the first royal banquet she would be hosting. She had gone to several royal banquets with Dimitri before, but this was different. She was hosting this one. And as the wife of The Emperor, she was now a social icon.

"Ouch," she said, as a pin prodded into her leg.

"Terribly sorry, Milady," replied Maria. "But if it's going to be perfect, there are going to be some close calls with these needles."

The pain was quickly erased from her mind, as she went over the details in her head. This dinner was going to set her image for years to come. It had to be perfect.

Maria quickly moved onto her other leg. She was an expert at this.

"How do you think this looks?" asked Alga.

"It will look amazing, Milady," replied Maria. "If you'll just hold still."

"But you don't think it looks too formal, do you?" asked Alga. "I want to make a perfect first impression on the people."

"You can never be too formal at a royal banquet," answered Maria. "Formality is what they're all about."

Alga looked in the mirror. "I guess you're right," she said. "I'm just a little paranoid."

Maria worked on Alga's attire for another thirty minutes, before she was done.

"Ta-da," she said, as Alga turned towards the mirror.

"Oh, it's beautiful," said Alga. "I don't know what I was worried about."

After staring at herself for a few more minutes, she changed back into her previous attire, to venture to her private quarters.

"Thank you, Maria," she said, as she was leaving.

She walked enthusiastically to her quarters, where she hung the dress in her closet. She looked it over again, just to renew her excitement. She couldn't wait for this banquet.

Remembering her son's imminent return, she quickly left her quarters, to return to the throne room.

.....

David looked out the window of the transport jet sent to retrieve him, as he descended towards the runway. Just a few hours ago, The Emperor had been assassinated, and his father proclaimed Emperor. He was quickly rushed back to the capitol city.

David felt guilty at leaving behind his comrades, even though it wasn't his decision to come back. His father had personally ordered it, and he was forced to. But that didn't stop him from worrying about the two remaining wolves of tent C-Eighteen. They were his friends, and he wasn't there to help them anymore.

With a gentle thud, the jet contacted the runway, and slowed to taxi speed. It had only taken forty-five minutes for him to be rushed halfway across the Alaskan territory. No small feat, considering the territory's size.

David ascended from his seat, as the jet engines cut off, and exited the plane. He walked only a few feet before a group of ten Imperial Guardsmen met him to escort him to the palace. Because of security reasons, only The Emperor's jet was allowed to land at the Imperial Airstrip, so he had a ten minute drive ahead of him, departing from the Lupinium International Airport.

He was placed in an armored transport, accompanied by four of his guard. The others climbed into decoy transports, and they were headed to the palace.

David looked out the heavily tinted windows, and watched, as the transport rolled down the streets of Lupinium. People were walking happily down the sidewalk, laughing, and joking with each other. It made David kind of angry, thinking about where he had just come from. He wondered how they could be happy, knowing there were people dying everyday, to protect them.

The transport convoy rolled into a secure building at the gates of the palace. There was a loud hissing, as the air lock closed behind them. David got out of the vehicle, and entered the decontamination, and searching area, to be searched, and have all pathogens he carried treated.

"Hello, Your Majesty," said the wolf in charge of the decontamination. "If you'll step in here please."

David complied, and stepped into a small glass box. A scanning module descended, and revealed a small number of harmless non-contagious pathogens, which were treated, before he was allowed to continue.

He returned to the transport, entering a different vehicle this time, and they were off, rolling down the large driveway of the palace. The driveway was about a mile long, made completely of granite. The entire palace was a display of wealth. It had expanded slightly since David had left to become a collection officer.

The convoy stopped in the garage in the front of the building. David stepped out of the vehicle, and was accompanied by two guardsmen, who denied requests to allow him to walk alone.

"Where is my father?" asked David.

"He is currently in a War Council meeting," replied one of the guardsmen. "He should be out shortly."

David sighed. The least his father could have done, was make sure he was free to greet him, if he was going to tear him away from where he was.

"And just what am I supposed to do in the meantime?" asked David.

"By request of The Emperor, you are to wait in your quarters until the meeting has ended," replied the guardsman. "It should only be a few more minutes."

David just shook his head. He was getting angry. Just as he was about to protest, the guards stopped outside of a room.

"Here you are, Your Majesty," said the guardsman. They had stopped in front of a door with a plaque that read "Private quarters of Prince David Nosov, Heir Apparent."

David almost laughed. They had already taken the time to make a plaque for his room, when the war was creeping along. The things they chose to worry about.

"Thank you," David said to the guardsmen, as he entered his room.

Upon entering, David was greeted by a younger wolf.

"Hello, Your Majesty," he started. "My name is Daniel, I'll be your assistant."

This was different. David had never had an assistant before.

"Nice to meet you, Daniel," said David, extending his hand.

"Nice to meet you, as well, Your Majesty," he replied, as he shook his hand. "If there's anything you require, just ask."

"Thank you, Daniel," replied David, unsure of whether, or not he really wanted an assistant.

David walked across the room, and sat down at his desk. He hoped his father wouldn't take too long.

"So, tell me about yourself, Daniel," said David, after the guardsmen had left.

"Not really much to say," replied Daniel. "I joined the Palace staff about a year ago. Considering not many people want to work here, it didn't take me long to advance. I was the assistant to the previous Emperor, before he was, um, assassinated."

Daniel looked at the ground. He was clearly affected by what he had said.

"I'm sorry," said Daniel, lifting his head back up. "And that leads me to where I am now. Serving you, Your Majesty."

Their conversation was cut short, when they heard a knocking on the door.

"Come in," said David.

The door opened to reveal the two guardsmen.

"Emperor Nosov is ready to receive you, Your Majesty," said the first one. "He is accompanied by her highness, the Empress Alga Nosov."

"Thank you," replied David, as he stood up. "Let's go then."

.....

"Another one," thought Timothy Goodman, the President of the United States.

Another of his Secret Service agents was violently ill with radiation sickness. The President had protested against sending another man to the surface, for this exact reason.

"He'll be fine, Sir," said Agent Gammel, the highest ranking survivor.

The President just stared at him. "He will not be 'just fine' Agent Gammel. You know that," he said. "Which is exactly why I didn't want him to go up there anyway. There's too much radiation."

"Then what do you expect me to do, Sir?" asked Gammel. "Let us rot down here without any food, or water?"

The President looked away. He was right, they were running low on supplies. The fallout shelter they were in wasn't designed for long term living, and they didn't have much time to stock it. He had been forced through the tunnel in his office, when the bomb had begun to rise through the air. They had only seconds to prepare.

Gammel walked away, looking satisfied at winning the argument. Normally he wouldn't have argued with The President, but the situation wasn't exactly normal, and The President understood his frustration. But they were all frustrated, and arguing wasn't helping.

It was only a few more minutes, before they began to think of another plan.

"Do we have a satellite phone?" asked Gammel.

"No," replied another agent. "And even if we did, the Canadians are probably more worried about their people, not us."

The President kicked an empty bottle across the floor. He was starting to get worried.

"Is there anyway to determine a path to escape that doesn't have radiation?" he asked.

Agent Gammel shook his head. "Nope," he replied. "We didn't have time to retrieve any equipment able to do that, before we went down here."

"Mister President?" asked the sick agent.

"Yes?" said The President, worried that he might be in more pain.

After throwing up in the bucket next to him, he turned to look at The President.

"I could go up again, to fetch a geiger-counter," he said "It's not like I'll get radiation sickness."

"Absolutely not," replied The President. "We've already asked too much of you. I won't have you risking your life again."

The agent washed his face with a damp rag, before replying. "Mister President," he started. "I'm already sick. I will die in the next couple of days, we all know that. The least I can do, is use this to my advantage, and serve my country."

The President stared at the ground. He nudged the bottle on the floor with his foot. What he said was right, but it didn't seem right, to ask him to go up again.

"Then you, and the others can make it out of here," the agent continued. "I'm already done for, please let me do this."

"Alright," replied The President, hesitantly. The logic of what he was saying was undeniable. "But do hurry, I would hate for you to be there longer than necessary."

The look on the agent's face turned to a smile. "Thank you, Mister President," he replied. "I'll do my best."

The President couldn't believe the sacrifice the agent was willing to make. He had already resigned himself to the fate of death, and went back into the hell above for more. He hated the wolves for doing this to them. He would make sure The Emperor paid for this. If there was one thing he did, he would pay. Not only had he taken his country from him, but now, he was attacking the second country he called home. It almost seemed personal.

It wasn't long, before he returned. The emergency supply room wasn't far from the entrance. He looked sicker than before, if that was possible.

"Here you go, Sir," he said, as he handed the geiger-counter, and a bag of supplies, to Agent Gammel.

"Well then," replied Gammel. "Let's get going."

They all started to pack up, when the agent began violently vomiting. He wasn't able to travel with them.

"Just go," said the agent. "It's not like leaving would have helped me."

The reality of the situation hung heavy in the room, as they left, leaving the agent behind. He would have to stare at the corpses of two dead agents, while he waited to die himself.