2...1...

The timer went blank and the nuke's control system deactivated the bomb.

Neil closed his eyes, his thoughts still with his daughter. He wanted to allow his body to collapse and float among the cloud of pages, but there was one last thing he wanted to do before letting his stress-related fatigue overtake his mind with sleep.

He floated into his sleeping quarters and retrieved the picture of Emily. He kissed the image of her smiling face and hoped that wherever she was right now, whatever she did in her lifetime, she would know one thing about her father: that he granted her last request of him.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

July 17, 2013 Wesley Maddox gave James Armour another tour of the space station facility. The leader of the project knew he was perspiring because of the hot sun, not because of the stress in dealing with unexpected mishaps. Maddox had known about this visit for a week. It did not include some of the attractions of the Defense Secretary's last visit, such as truck crashes, fires and mass resignations. This tour was running much smoother, about as perfectly as Maddox could have hoped. If only Peter Mansfield was here for this, maybe the Chief of Staff could see that he was wrong about Maddox and McNalley & Jones...

"Everything seems to be running in an orderly fashion," Armour said, as the two men walked from one construction hangar to another. "The Russians have been quite helpful."

"More than you could imagine," Maddox replied. "They haven't been on-site for very long and they complain about the hot weather constantly but they made an immediate impact on the way things are running."

The two men nodded to an armed guard as they walked into the next construction hangar. The building teemed with workers, all working on the large aluminum structure that hung suspended in the middle of the room. These workers were directed by two men who stood at the top of a scaffold. When one of these two directors spotted Maddox and Armour entering the hangar, he called for the workers to take a break.

The two men climbed down and approached Maddox and Armour. The short balding man who'd been calling out directions introduced the man next to him, a taller, brooding man who wore some sort of military uniform. The tall man with thick black hair and a heavy beard was introduced as Yvgeni Kirilenko.

"How do you like our space station, Mr. Kirilenko?" Armour asked.

"Space station good," Kirilenko replied tersely.

"What about America? Is this your first time here?"

Kirilenko nodded once.

"What do you think about it?" Armour asked, trying to spark any sort of conversation. Kirilenko was the sixth Russian to whom Armour met on his tour and he found all of them equally reticent. Although this made for awkward conversation, Armour appreciated that the Russians did not have a knack for conversation. At least they wouldn't allow the media to rope them into a tell-all interview about the inside of the space station facility.

"I like America," Kirilenko said. "But too hot. I like cold in Russia more."

Kirilenko and the other man went back to the scaffold, as work on the station structure continued. Armour never thought he would see the day when Americans and Russians would work hand-in-hand on such a major space project. But from the way Maddox described their work ethics and expertise, selecting Russia to help seemed the correct decision.

"The Russians have been great," Maddox explained, "but they know when not to overstep their boundaries. At least as far as ground construction has gone."

The two men circled the large structure. Maddox explained that this particular piece was part of the RESEARCH/LABORATORY 'corner' of the space station. The project leader also explained to Armour about timesaving construction techniques of the Russians and how they worked more efficiently now without taking away from overall safety.

"I've personally benefited from the addition of the Russian work force," Maddox said. "To be honest, hearing the opinions of men with experience building space stations has given me a greater confidence in leading this project. I no longer feel like I have the total burden squarely on my shoulders. This has given me more time to focus on other aspects of the station."

"Like worrying about raw materials?" Armour asked, referring to the recent shortage of building materials.

"I suppose that's part of it," Maddox said as he led Armour out of the hangar. Although they hadn't visited every one of the construction buildings, Maddox thought the Secretary of Defense had seen enough of the differences from his last visit. "The Russians have not actually contributed yet to the stock of aluminum or other building materials. I've been assured that we should be receiving their first shipments within the next month or two. There is still one area with which their expertise and help has proven indispensable."

"And that is?" Armour asked as they reached the trailer in the middle of the complex.

"Follow me and I'll show you."

Maddox opened the door to the trailer and led Armour inside.

Maddox pushed the button for speakerphone and hung up the receiver.

"James Armour, let me introduce you to Slava Kovalchuk," Maddox said.

"Mr. Kovalchuk, it is a pleasure to meet you. I only wish it could've been in person," Armour spoke into the phone.

"James Armour? I can't believe I talk to famous James Armour," a thickly accented voice said over the phone. "If you had been Russian, you could be Russian President by now."

"I appreciate that," Armour said. "But I hear that you have been most valuable to the United States."

"I only help with what I know," Kovalchuk said.

On their way into Maddox's office, the project leader explained that the single biggest help from the Russians had come from one man: Slava Kovalchuk. Kovalchuk was the leader of the Russian agency's space construction crew, a group of nearly a hundred men who worked on every phase of Russia's multiple space station projects. Most importantly, Kovalchuk was an expert leading men in the construction process in outer space. He logged more time as a space project leader than any man in history.

When Maddox first met Kovalchuk soon after President Marshall's visit to Russia, the two men hit it off right away. Maddox was thrilled to meet a man with such vast knowledge in training and Kovalchuk was excited to work on such a huge project. Although Kovalchuk's wide array of expertise could've been put to use on any aspect of the project, the two men decided he'd be most useful training crews for actual space construction.

Along with the top fifty space construction workers from Russia, Kovalchuk began training a new group of American recruits that Maddox scrounged together. Kovalchuk reviewed the training process used on the first failed group of space construction trainees and found many glaring mistakes, most having to do with the number of trainees. The first group of trainees numbered about a dozen but Kovalchuk explained they needed many more to be effective. He explained that space construction was best completed with multiple, smaller-sized groups that worked in shorter shifts.

"Slava's crew has refined the art of training," Maddox explained to Armour. "Along with his crew, our trainees will be learning from the best space construction people in the world."

"Your country is excellent at training astronauts," Kovalchuk said. "But my country is excellent at training builders."

"With the limited experience we have on the subject, we never should've expected to do things the best way," Maddox admitted. "That was a major oversight on my part but one that is finally being corrected."

"We will now make right for America," Kovalchuk said. "My men do good job. The crew will be ready in six months, no more."

Armour was surprised that training would take such a short amount of time, especially since normal American astronauts had to train for years before being sent to space. Based upon the Russian's timetable, though, the construction crew would be ready before ground construction was even complete. After the debacle of the last training crew, Armour never expected such good news.

"I'd like to thank you for doing such a good job," Armour said, suddenly feeling a bit light-headed as he talked to the Russian. "You and your crew will have plenty of time to practice before you must go to space and build the real deal."

"Wesley will have to train if he wants to do good," Kovalchuk said. "But I will teach him how to be leader in space. I will go with him and guide him."

Maddox thanked Kovalchuk for his time and promised the Russian that he looked forward to the training. The project leader disconnected the line.

Armour was sweating worse inside the air-conditioned office than he had in the blazing desert heat. He sat down and asked for some water. After taking a few sips of cold bottled water, he felt slightly better.

"Are you worried about working in space?" the former astronaut asked.

"Worried? I'm not looking forward to it, but I wouldn't say I'm worried," Maddox answered. "I hope the Russians are as good at training as they say. I'll be a lot less nervous now that Kovalchuk is with us."

"He seems like a good man," Armour said.

With the tour over, Armour did not want to waste any more of Maddox's precious time. If it had been up to him, he would have allowed the project leader a few more months before coming around and demanding progress reports. Mansfield had convinced President Marshall otherwise, the only reason why Armour was here so soon after the Russian assistance.

Maddox walked with Armour back to the Secretary of Defense's waiting helicopter. Armour assured the project leader that he would tell President Marshall how smoothly everything was advancing.

"That's nice, but could you make sure you tell that to Peter Mansfield, too?" Maddox asked.

Armour's head felt like it was full of helium and his legs had grown spaghetti-like during the short walk. He still chuckled when he heard contempt in Maddox's voice when mentioning Mansfield.

"I'll be sure to tell..." Armour said, interrupted when the edges around his eyesight began to darken. It felt like somebody had taken his view of the world and pushed it inward. "I'll be sure to..."

The hot air he breathed was burning his lungs and before he knew what was happening, Armour felt himself lose balance. He felt the warmth of sand against his cheek a moment before everything went black.

CHAPTER NINTEEN.

July 18, 2013 Peter Mansfield sat in the private jet, his blood slowly simmering at the thought of the mission the President sent him on. It was an insult to the Chief of Staff that Marshall insisted upon Earl Ackerman rejoining the 'Inner Circle.' As if this wasn't bad enough, Marshall insisted Mansfield be the one sent to the middle of the woods, knock on Ackerman's log cabin door and personally give him the good news.

You held a gun to me, went behind my back in writing to President Marshall and sneaked into a fundraiser to ambush me. But forget all of that! Welcome back to the most secret and important group that humankind has ever known.

The thought sickened Mansfield. As Chief of Staff for the most powerful country in the world, it was Peter Mansfield's job to avoid this feeling, to do everything he could to make sure he was always in control of every situation that was thrown his way.

But when the President makes an order, you just have to do what he says.

Or do I? Mansfield suddenly pondered.

Before Earl looked at the shelter's ceiling, he could only smile at how well construction of the room progressed. He'd poured the concrete floor and built the four walls in only a few days. He even began moving some furniture inside, having slept the previous night on an old sofa he'd dragged through the tunnel. Earl slept surprisingly well on the first of many nights he would spend underground.

The hard work was well worth it, especially when he gazed around the shelter and saw how much work was finished. Having not gone topside since he awoke in the shelter, Earl began to understand what it felt like to be in a world of his own. He no longer measured his days based upon time or the sun's cycle but upon how much work he finished.

When he looked at his unfinished ceiling, though, he realized just how long of a day it would be when he had to tackle that project. Before he began building his tunnel and shelter, Earl had zero construction experience. Digging the tunnel had been relatively easy, as had most of the construction of the floor and walls of the room. In order to safely brace the underground construction and avoid a potentially lethal cave-in, Earl read several books on construction, which explained 'Simple Steps to Surveying Safety.' But the ceiling was going to be a different story altogether.

The ceiling will definitely require further research, he thought as he looked up. But I'll worry about that at the end when I have everything else done.

Earl worked for three hours straight without stopping to take a break, as he mixed cement and laid cinder blocks, work that quickly became second nature to him. The monotonous work allowed him plenty of time to think about other things too, his thoughts always leading back to the 'Inner Circle.'

I wonder what the President said when Mansfield told him about our meeting... Did Mansfield even tell him about our meeting?... Will they decide to contact me?... If they do, I wonder how they'll contact me... Will the President send Secret Service members to get me like when they threw me in Mimosa Grove?...

Earl's chances of rejoining the 'Inner Circle' grew slimmer with every day that passed without contact. He expected Mansfield to speak to Marshall about him within days, if not hours, of their encounter at the benefit. Whether the President decided to let Earl back in the loop would not likely require a lengthy deliberation process. Because of this, Earl started dismissing his chances of being allowed back in the group.

Oh well, it will give me more time to finish the shelter and work on some other projects, he thought to himself. Maybe I'll even be able to...

Earl's mind screeched to a halt when he heard a noise coming from the tunnel. He put down the heavy cinder block he carried and stood completely still, listening intently for another sound. One of the things Earl liked about being underground was the ultimate silence. When he heard something other than his own noise, he knew there had to be something or somebody out there. Earl tried to convince himself that the noise was in his mind.

Nothing is really there, just like the last time you freaked out and found nothing. Even if the government sent people to watch you, there's no way they would send them inside.

He took a deep breath before bending over to pick up the heavy block again. Earl was making serious progress on the final wall and wasn't going to let himself be delayed by silly paranoia.

He heard the noise again. This time, he clearly heard the sound, like that of a footstep and knew that his mind was not playing tricks on him. Tension flooded over every inch of his body and he again stood still, this time contemplating how to react.

If somebody wanted to come down here to hurt me, they wouldn't have to sneak around to do it. I'm trapped with no escape, so they wouldn't have to be careful trying to find me. No, they aren't here to hurt me, they're here to spy on me. They broke into my house to get a closer look at what I'm doing.

Although Earl had grown accustomed to living in places that crawled with electronic bugs, there was something different about an actual person invading his privacy. The tension and anxiety that previously froze Earl converted to anger and aggression. He was determined to seek out the source of the noise. After all, if the intruder were an intelligence agent working for the government, he or she would not hurt him. And if the person was simply a robber, Earl had to stop the invader from informing the police about his underground tunnel.

Earl ran across the room into the tunnel, his heavy, plodding footsteps echoing against the empty walls. Ahead of him in the darkened tunnel, Earl thought he saw the shadow of another person running. Whoever it was, the person was far enough ahead so Earl could not see him clearly. Earl pumped his short legs but the shadow in front of him disappeared before he reached the end of the tunnel.

"Get back here," he yelled before his basement. Earl stopped to catch his breath before heading up the ramp to his living room. Earl walked slowly into the house, trying to make as little noise as possible. He heard no further noises but discovered his front door wide open. A part of him was relieved to find the door ajar, since whoever had been inside made their escape.

Earl stepped outside, surprised to find the sky black and littered with stars. He'd only been underground a few days and his inner clock was already screwed up. He took a few steps toward the woods where he heard rustling the last time he sensed an intruder. When Earl thought he heard a noise coming from this area, he yelled.

"Leave me alone. Don't come back again."

His heart now pounding in his chest, Earl walked back into his house and slammed the front door. He turned the single lock on his door, deciding to add a few more to avoid further break-ins.

When Earl turned away from his door, he collided with the barreled chest of a huge man. With one hand, the mountain of a man grabbed Earl's arm in a vice-like grip and lowered a needle into that arm. Earl barely had time to think or look at the face of this man before his world went black.

"Mr. President," Mae said over the intercom, "James Armour is here to see you."

President Marshall sat behind his Oval Office desk, reading financial reports that had just been sent to him from some House Committee on something or other.

"Send him in," Marshall said, relieved for the interruption.

Although the President knew Armour was returning to Washington after his trip to the space station facility, he hadn't set an appointment to meet with his Secretary of Defense. The two 'Inner Circle' members found that leaving a paper trail of their numerous meetings could eventually draw suspicion. Even though Armour held a high enough rank in Marshall's Cabinet to just 'pop in' at the White House, he rarely did so unless an issue was of utmost importance.

Armour walked into the Oval Office and the President immediately noticed a large bandage on the man's forehead.

"What happened to your head?" Marshall asked.

"The heat," Armour said. "It must've gotten to me out in the desert. After the tour, I began getting light-headed and I passed out when walking to the chopper. Hit my head on a damn rock on the ground."

"We're getting older," Marshall said, speaking of his and Armour's age as if they were the same. Armour was at least twenty years his elder. "I've been needing a vacation for years to recharge the battery. Why don't you think about taking one yourself? I can't have you getting sick on me. Then I'd be stuck all alone with Peter."

"I would hate to do that to you, Mr. President. But I assure you, I'm fine. I've never liked the heat, that's all," Armour said, trying to brush aside the topic.

The President sat down at his desk and pointed to a seat across from him. Armour sat down and wiped his glistening forehead with a hankie before beginning his report.

"The differences between this trip and the last one are astounding," he began. "The changes the Russians have implemented are making a world of difference."

For the next ten minutes, Armour described everything he had seen at the space station complex, explaining the positive influences the Russians had on every aspect of construction.

"I just wish Mansfield was here to hear this," Armour said, his brow sweaty and face a light shade of red after the lengthy explanation. "We proved him wrong on this one."