Interlude #2

An Army of the Cross story

(c) 2015 Thomas F. Brown, All Rights Reserved.

This material may not be reproduced in any form without the expressed written consent of the author.

In the post-apocalyptic aftermath of The Light Years War, humanity is struggling to rebuild a civilization smashed by an alien adversary. But now it faces a new and unexpected challenge: an army of religious fanatics hell-bent on completing the job the aliens started. Only one person stands in their way: an old woman with a mysterious past and an agenda of her own.

From the Journal of Nancy Madison
September 18, 2217
(Continued)

Dammit, I need to pull myself together! Crying about it won’t help.
I’ve sped up my Virtual clock to give me time to think. The Mayor of Rochester is frozen in the act of complaining about her rug. Here I am struggling with the weight of the world on my shoulders and this bitch is worrying about getting blood stains out of the thing.
Heaven save me from stupid …
(sigh)
What am I doing? I’m not mad at the poor woman, not really. She has enough on her plate as it is. Worrying about the little things is how some of us cope with stress. God knows I’ve done enough of that in my time. No, I suppose I’m really mad at myself. I know what I’ve got to do. I’ve known for a long time now. I’ve just been in denial.
Once upon a time, when I was a young and naieve nineteen-year-old, I cursed Katherine Birsch for a terrorist and a murderer when I learned how she “solved” the Light Years War, eliminating the alien threat with brutality and cold calculation. I helped change that history, convinced with the righteousness of youth that the world was black-and-white, and right and wrong were easily distinguished.
Yet here I am, contemplating that same solution. How did it come to this? When did I become indistinguishable from a terrorist?
Before he died, my husband, Robert, told me we all have choices. I responded “I either do what history demands of me or the world burns — some choice.” Is it still free-will if all our choices are bad ones?
God forgive me, I don’t want to do this. It goes against everything I believe in, everything I hold dear. But I can’t let those damned Monks continue to destroy lives, condemning little children to a life of slavery and ignorance. I can’t! I won’t! Somewhere, there’s a middle ground, a way to stop them without destroying the future and by extension, the past. I think I may have found that way, but it requires something of me. I lost my humanity a long time ago. I guess it’s time to sacrifice my soul as well.
I’m sorry!

To be continued …

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