The faces on the screen were sallow as flesh hung in decaying strips. Eyes were cold and gray, having been filmed over, and their limbs appeared as thin as broomsticks beneath their clothing.

"Coooooome tooo meeeeeeeee," they hissed repeatedly. "Coooooome tooo . . ."

He quickly shut off the audio feed, and then the monitor. Then he sat on the catwalk with his back to the podium and stared at the steel door at the end of the walkway.

Around him the stars sparkled gloriously through the glass walls and floor, a magnificent display.

And it was quiet.

Until: . . . Bang . . . Bang . . . Bang . . .

Jim Schott wept.

"Warning: the ship has been breached-Warning: the ship has been breached."

The president, almost to the freight elevator along with everyone else, stopped to give pause, and listened. "Now what the Hell is that?" he asked Eriq, pointing to imaginary speakers and referring to the alarm.

But Eriq knew that the system could only be manually engaged. "It means, Mr. President, that we're not alone."

Just then the freight elevator was called to a lower level.

Something below had summoned it.

Chapter Eighteen.

In a brief and up-close moment on one of the monitors, Jen had clearly seen a face on the screen. It had crawled out of the shadow and made its way to the camera, as if it purely knew its purpose to record the moment. It stood there staring into the lens, tilting its head from one side to the next. Its eyes had no color at all, but a milky sheen to them, and its skin was gray and purple with lines marbling through it. When it opened its mouth, she could see the meat of its black tongue moving as if to speak, but there was no sound, no microphone to record the measure of its tone.

And then another face appeared. This one with weeping sores and open wounds, the flesh pared away from bone until its cheeks were exposed, as well as the bleached-bone point of its chin.

In unison they reached up with their bony hands, grabbed the camera, and wrenched it free from the wall, killing the feed.

The screen became a picture of gray snow.

But Jen had seen enough when Sheena called her on the intercom. "Jen!"

Jen was almost in tears when she answered. "Sheena, Eriq isn't answering the call!"

"What the Hell is going on up there?"

"They're all over the place!"

"Who?"

"Get Eriq!"

"Who's all over the place?"

Suddenly a metered banging started on the comm-room door.

. . . Bang . . . Bang . . . Bang . . .

"Jen! What's happening?"

. . . Bang . . . Bang . . . Bang . . .

Jen screamed, and then she shut off the intercom system.

. . . Bang . . . Bang . . . Bang . . .

Jen immediately went into protocol mode, even though tears streamed down her face and her heart raced deep inside her chest.

. . . Bang . . . Bang . . . Bang . . .

She yelped, then flipped through the pages of the protocol manual.

. . . Bang . . . Bang . . . Bang . . .

Inward dents began to appear on the surface of the door.

. . . Bang . . . Bang . . . Bang . . .

Finding the page, Jen sat at the comm desk and followed the directions to link up to the emergency channel to New DC's Presidential Command Center.

. . . Bang . . . Bang . . . Bang . . .

In thirty seconds she was online.

"New DC's Presidential Command Center. How may I direct your call?"

"Please listen carefully," said a female voice that was desperate sounding. Though the transmission was weak, the operator could hear banging going on in the background. "ID number six-five-zero. There's been . . . a security breach onboard . . . soleum Twenty Sixty-Nine. Code number seven-six-four, Henry-tango-tan . . ."

"I'm sorry, what were those last set of numbers again?"

"Seven-six-four, Henry-tango-tango. Please . . . urry."

The operator dialed up the codes.

Code number 650: Jennifer May Jacoby Age: 26 Occupation: Ship's Communication Officer (Mausoleum 2069) Code number 64: Henry-Tango-Tango Presidential Threat: Hostiles Onboard "Please hold while I transfer you," she stated with urgency, then transferred Jen to the agency's Prime Director, Adam Lechler.

The call came over an exclusive line, one used for select emergencies. Lechler tapped the button to engage the speaker system. "Lechler."

"This . . . Jac . . . code num . . . five-zero"

"Ma'am, you're breaking up."

". . . There has been . . . breach . . . the president . . . onboard . . ."

"Ma'am, I can't understand you--"

"They're breaking . . . through . . . dead people . . . president . . . danger. We need help. The president's life . . . danger . . . dead everywhere."

"Ma'am!"

And then the communication was cut off, leaving nothing but the static of white noise.

"Ma'am?" When there was no return answer he reconnected with the operator. "Marge."

"Yes, Mr. Lechler."

"Were you able to validate that call?"

"Yes, sir. It definitely originated from Mausoleum Twenty Sixty-Nine."

Lechler remained quiet, his mind racing. He knew the president's itinerary, knew that he had a ceremony onboard 2069. And this call. The code Henry-Tango-Tango was a life and death situation involving high-end political figures. The communicator had mentioned the word dead on two occasions. More so, she confirmed that the president's life was in danger.

"Mr. Lechler."

"Marge, get me the vice president. Tell him that we have a Level-Four situation."

"Yes, sir."

Lechler fell back into his seat and began to rub his chin thoughtfully. Who had the means to enter low-level space and breach Mausoleum 2069? It never once occurred to him that those involved had been onboard all along.

Chapter Nineteen.

They listened as the freight elevator descended, came to a stop, and then began its upward trek.

"Warning: the ship has been breached. Warning: the ship has been breached."

"Will somebody please shut that alarm off!" cried the governor's daughter, as she stood there sobbing with her hands cupped over her ears. "Please!"

"Warning: the ship has been breached. Warning: the ship has been breached."

The whirring of the elevator grew louder, the cab nearing their level.

The members of the president's Detail removed their firearms, took position before the freight elevator doors, and directed their high-caliber weapons with the intent to kill.

"Warning: the ship has been breached. Warning: the ship has been breached."

Then the whirring stopped.

And the elevator doors opened.

As soon as the doors parted, Sheena saw guns pointed in her general direction, so she hit the floor, fast, with her face down and her arms out by her side in mock crucifixion. The four men from the president's Detail quickly moved in with their weapons aimed to the center of her body mass.

"It's all right," cried Eriq, moving past them. "She's a member of my crew." He helped her to her feet. "What's going on?" he asked her, holding her close.

She shrugged, because she really didn't know. "Jen's been trying to contact you."

Eriq forgot. He had his communications system off because of the service. There were to be no interruptions during the governor's ceremony.

"Did you talk to her?"

She nodded. "Something's wrong, Eriq. She was screaming because someone was trying to get into the comm room. I could hear them banging on the door through the intercom system. She said that they were all over the place."

"Who?"

"She didn't say. The next thing I knew, she was screaming, and then the transmission was cut off. I knew where you were, so I had to find you." She pressed the side of her head against his chest. "Eriq, what's happening?"

"Warning: the ship has been breached. Warning: the ship has been breached."

"I don't know. But we're going to find out. We need to get to the comm center."

"No," said John Eldridge. "We need to get President Michelin to Air Force Six. His safety is of the highest priority."

"I understand that," Eriq returned. "But if this ship has been breached, then we have to know by whom and note where exactly these people are. We just can't run right into the hornet's nest." He then pointed to the president's Detail. "And four men with minimal firepower will not get the job done. If you want answers, then we need to get to the comm center."

"Where is it?" asked the lead guard, a large man with beefy shoulders and a thick neck.

"It's on the deck directly below us. A short jaunt."

The lead guard turned to Michelin. "Mr. President, he's right. We need to know what we're up against before we can make a safe advancement to Air Force Six."

Michelin faced off with Eriq. "Do you have any idea as to who these people might be? Where they came from?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

"Time's running short, Mr. President," stated the lead guard, who pointed to the ceiling.

The stars were beginning to move quicker across the Observatory window. The ship was starting to drift faster.