By agreement, Melanie's column stopped advancing when they were still four blocks from the Capitol Mall. Word from inside informants indicated that very few of the government officials had tried to flee; they'd been counting on the Green Berets to find them a way out, and when that had failed they had gathered again in the Capitol building and in the White House, planning to present a unified front. Messengers had been sent out to the other columns of independent troops coming into the city, and they had all stopped as well. The Army's troops that remained in the city had for the most part had gone, up the highway toward Baltimore.

After collecting Prof and the remainder of the gladiators, Melanie and her group reunited with the front of the column, then being led by Colonel Ben Stennis of the Marines and by Fred Lufkin, whose survival everyone considered a small miracle. Expecting no more major hostilities, Rachel and Eileen, along with Captain Garner and others from the communications truck, were moved to the front of the line. Admiral Hansen had flown in, and so had Air Force General Edmund Lilly. With James Miller representing the National Guard and Richard Kent the SEALs, the military was highly visible.

Melanie wanted to be sure her civilians were not left out of the entrance, which was, they all knew quite well, going to be recorded by hundreds of cameras. All her surviving Deer were to be there, as well as Stephanie and the gladiators; and she sent out word to select several from the groups of "locality" troops and, of course, the students. Here she was specific; Joan and any survivors of the group she was with were to be in that first entry group. Once they were all in order the march began again. Now riding in comfort in a bus that, other than a few squads of Marines who went ahead to ensure that there would be no unpleasant surprises, led the way in. As they headed toward the towering Washington Monument, Melanie could not help herself, she cried freely. This was, she kept telling herself, all too fantastic, almost too fantastic to be believed. Stephanie, Rachel, Mindy, Jackie, and Joan, all riding on the bus with her, at first thought something was wrong, but they were having problems holding back their own tears, as well. The men were being stoic as men usually are, but Melanie was sure she saw moisture in Harry's eyes, as well.

The intelligence that suggested that there would be cameras there was not wrong. The whole Mall was a sea of transmitter trucks, there were newsmen everywhere, from all over the country. As the bus pulled up in front of the capitol building, they tried to mob it, but were held at bay by the Marines. As had been planned, they would make their statement from inside. There were no problems, no disruptions. The bus unloaded, and, with Melanie and Harry leading the way, they at last entered the Capitol.

The scene inside was one of chaos. Four times as many people were there as the building normally holds; many of them, Melanie noticed, looked disheveled and unshaven. There was frank terror in their eyes as they watched her and her entourage walk toward the podium.

One of them burst from the crowd. A Marine held him back, but he reached out a supplicating hand. "Stephanie!" he cried. "Stephanie, it's me, Billy Jackson!" Stephanie stopped and looked at him, amazed. "Stephanie, you have to help me! You have Melanie's ear, I know you do! That business when you left, that was all a big mistake!"

She nodded. "Yes, it was, Mr. Jackson," she said evenly. "But in a way it didn't really matter. I've been with these people for a very long time. I know, you had no idea."

"Stephanie, please! They're gonna kill us all!"

She shook her head. "I doubt that. But you'll just have to wait and see, Mr. Jackson. Your days in power, the days when you could with a word enslave someone like me, are over. As for me, if I never see you again it'll be far too soon!" She turned away and walked on toward the podium, her high heels clicking sharply on the floor. Jackson fell to his knees and wept like a child.

Once everyone was in, Admiral Hansen--by arrangement--was the first to position himself behind the forest of microphones at the podium. "In many ways," he opened, "this is a dark day for America. We have just concluded our second Civil War, and the cost in lives--the lives of the men and women in uniform on both sides, and the lives of the courageous civilians who stepped forward to offer themselves in their country's time of need--has been terribly high. In another way, though, the day is very bright. This is a new beginning for our country, and I am certain it will rise stronger than ever." He paused for effect. "I do want to assure the citizens of this nation," he went on, "and the representatives of various foreign powers who are, I feel certain, watching this broadcast, that although there certainly has been involvement on the side of the revolution by elements of the Navy, the Air Force, the Marines, and the National Guard, this is in no way, in no sense, a military coup. We all acknowledge our leader as Ms. Melanie Abbot, a civilian--a civilian who is as of this moment the acting President of the United States and the Commander in Chief of the United States military forces." He paused again. "I do not want to speak at length," he said. "And I will turn you over to Ms. Abbot in just a moment. But I do want to mention five others, five other Americans whose actions were instrumental in forcing us to realize that the government as it was being run could not stand." He paused yet again, and he glanced at Melanie. "They are: Ms. Jillian Goldstein. Ms. Cynthia Robertson. Ms. Nadine Paulson. Mrs. Susan Jeffords. And Ms. Carol Lindner. The first four of these were inmates of the Hunting Preserve at Isla de la Muerta. The fifth appeared on the television show know as 'Slaughterhouse.' Their stories are on our websites. The effect they had on us is profound. We remember. We will always remember. And we will always tell their stories." He turned away. "I give you now, the Acting President of the United States, Ms. Melanie Abbot."

Melanie felt like she was choking. Struggling to control herself, she wiped her eyes and stepped up to the podium, a sheaf of papers in her hand. "Acting President of the United States," she mused. "Me, Melanie Abbot. That sounds so strange. So very strange." She looked out over the assembled people, those who once held absolute power in their hands. "We do not," she said, "intend to change any part of government. We do intend to bring charges against those who have abused their positions of power and who have, in official capacity, committed crimes." She laid the sheaf of paper on the podium. "This will be long," she went on, "and a little tedious. But it must be done. In conjunction with the team of computer experts Mr. Mitchell Epstein has assembled, the Office of the Judge Advocate General at Annapolis has helped me to assemble this. I wish to read a list of names. These are the names of those we have no reason at this time to suspect of any criminal wrongdoing. As I said, this is gratifyingly long, so please bear with me: Senator Charles Oshasi, Hawaii. Senator Lillian Grove, Hawaii. Senator George Garalis, South Dakota." She went on for quite a while, naming six senators, forty-three congressmen, four federal judges, and a host of undersecretaries and assistants in the various departments of government. "The people I just named," she continued, "are free to go at any time. We would be gratified if you remained in your positions in the government, we will need your expertise desperately in the coming weeks. If you choose not to, we will understand." She paused again, and her eyes swept over the members of the crowd--the vast majority of whom had not heard their names called. "The rest of you," she said, an edge in her tone, "should consider yourselves removed from your offices and under arrest. In your cases we have compelling evidence of fraud, bribery, slavery, embezzlement, abuse of office, and in some cases murder." The crowd was starting to get unruly; their fear was almost palpable. "You will be confined to a prison such as Colonel Stennis of the United States Marines will designate. You will have a trial." The noise increased, many people shouting their innocence, asking how they could have been left off the list. Melanie waited patiently, staring them down, implacable. Eventually they became quieter.

"I do have a few more remarks," she said. "And then we will proceed to the White House to arrest the President and the Vice-President. First: no one will be executed. Until such time as a new Congress can be convened and can consider new law on this matter, there will be no more judicial executions in the United States. Enforcement for those crimes which we have always felt were created for the purpose of ensnaring candidates for the Preserve and the TV shows, such as 'prostitution without a license,' is hereby, by executive order, suspended. Given that we have a massive problem with law enforcement in general in this country now--tens of thousands of our policemen, police chiefs, and sheriffs are themselves in local jails and will be tried for malfeasance as well--we will be concentrating all available resources on major felonies, like robbery, rape, and murder." She paused again, and now she looked toward the TV cameras. "I have no intention," she said, "of making any attempt to retain the office I am for now occupying. I urge the American people to begin looking for suitable candidates. It is not an election year, but we will have an election in November, and at that point a new President must be chosen." This brought loud applause from her followers, from the press, and from the officials--now in a group, separated from the mass--who had been exonerated by her earlier statements.

"I have a nominee," Senator Oshasi said loudly. "Here and now, I would like to make a nomination!"

"Senator, this should wait until--"

He ignored her. "I nominate Melanie Abbot! Melanie Abbot for President of the United States!"

The sudden increase in the volume of the applause astounded her.
 
 

A little over an hour later the bus, carrying all the dignitaries, rolled out from in front of the Capitol, leaving the Marines in charge of the detainees. Their destination was Pennsylvania Avenue, just a short distance away; the White House had already been surrounded by Marines, and it was known that President Bussman, along with Vice-President Maxwell and some high-ranking cabinet officials, was inside. As they rode--Melanie in the front of the bus--Joan came up from her seat in the back and knelt beside her.

"Melanie--Ms. Abbot, I mean--I have a favor to ask of you, a really big one..."

Melanie smiled. "Melanie was correct, Joan. What sort of favor?"

Her eyes were huge and soulful. "I... want to go in with you... first, I mean... before anyone else gets in there."

'"Why?" Melanie asked, cocking her head.

The elfin girl pursed her lips. "You never did ask my last name, Melanie," she said. She looked away for a moment. "Y'know, neither did anyone else in that group of students I was with, Jamie and the rest, y'know. They all thought I was just another student. Somebody they just hadn't seen before."

Melanie frowned. "And you're not?" Where, she asked herself, was this going? "And what is your last name, and why is it important?"

"No," Joan answered. "I'm not a student, not anymore. I graduated two years ago, Dartmouth. I know, I look young but I'm not that young, I'm twenty-four."

"Young enough," Melanie said with a grin. "Now tell me, what's this business about your last name?"

Joan bit her lip. "It's Bussman," she said quickly and softly.

Melanie stared. "Bussman? You mean you're--"

"The President's--the ex-President's, I mean--daughter? Yes. I am."

"Shit!" Melanie cried. "But... but... you... when I first met you... you'd volunteered for that second-wave business when it called for you to kill yourself on a bayonet!"

"Yes." She looked down. "In ways, it would have been better for me, I would have gone out a hero to your cause and I wouldn't have to face tonight, y'know? Don't get me wrong, Melanie. I'm with you one hundred percent, otherwise I wouldn't have driven over to Annapolis and joined a student group. My Dad and I have fought continually over the past ten years over what he's been doing, both as the Governor of California and as President. He hates me. I hate what he's done. What he is." Her eyes filled up. "But he's still my Dad..."

"I am glad," Dave said from the seat beside Melanie, "that you finally told her."

Melanie's head snapped around. "You knew? You knew about this? And you didn't tell me?"

He shook his head. "People tell their secrets in bed," he reminded her. "As for telling you--I couldn't. She swore me to secrecy."

Melanie turned back to Joan and grabbed her shoulders. "Joan... first of all, yes. You come in with me. Second, I meant what I said back there. We're not going to execute anyone. We are going to arrest your Dad, we are going to put him on trial. We have to."

She nodded. "I understand. I just hate to see him... dragged this low." She wiped her eyes. "But that's not your fault. You're being more than fair, it would be fair if you had him lynched on the White House lawn. He'd do that to you if the situation were reversed, y'know."

"I do know," she said. "But family is always family. You can choose your friends and the causes you'll die for, but not your family." She glanced back in the bus. "Mindy!" she called. "Mindy, could you come up here for a moment?"

The ex-tennis player responded promptly. "Yes?"

"We only have a minute or two," she said, "before we reach the White House. I want you to talk to this girl about family and war. The next half-hour is going to be rough for her." Mindy gave her a questioning look. "She's one of our best and most courageous fighters, but her name is Joan Bussman. We're going in to arrest her father."

"Ohhh...." Mindy touched the elfin girl's shoulder. "Yes. I understand. Joan, let me tell you, real quick, about my sister Fran..."

Fifteen minutes later, with a Marine guard leading the way, Melanie, Joan, Mindy, Dave, and Harry, followed closely by the others, entered the White House. Only one person was in sight as they came in; Mitchell Ashe, director of the IRS. Unshaven, his shoulders slumped and his suit rumpled, he sat in a chair just inside, apparently waiting for them. As they came in, he looked up with rheumy eyes.

His gaze focused on Stephanie first. "Ah," he said. "A familiar face. Billy Jackson's girl." He waved a hand. "Don't even tell me your name. I forgot, but who cares?" He looked at the others. "And Joe's little girl. I knew you'd be on the other side. You were a real disappointment to your father. A real disappointment. He's in the Oval Office, you might want to go see him." He glanced at Melanie. "She's a real trophy for you, isn't she? I guess I'd parade her in here too."

Joan's jaw took on a hard set. "Melanie," she said, "didn't know, until a few minutes ago, who I was. She picked me to be here because I was a survivor of one of the hardest fights we had on the way here, and she--"

"Joan, I have to correct that," Melanie interrupted. "I did not pick you merely because you were a survivor of that fight. I picked you because you and your friends in that group were some of the most courageous and effective fighters we had. I'd have Jamie here too--and the others--but they died on the battlefield." She glared at Ashe. "She is here on her merits, not for who she is."

"Whatever." He looked down at the floor again. "There's no way," he muttered, "you could understand how it was. Not if you weren't there."

"I was there," Stephanie countered. "I was there the night Tracy Leightner was killed on TV. Remember? You and your boy had a great time. Watching a girl you framed die."

Ashe laughed. "The good ole days," he said. "Oh, well. I have no regrets. I can't. I'd like to say it would all be different if I had it all to do over again, but I know it wouldn't." He looked at Melanie again. "There was too much money, just too much money. It eats at you, it calls out to you. You convince yourself that it's okay. The country is running smooth, everything is getting done, we have an economic boom, it's all good. Some girls have to die for this. People died for you to be here. That was acceptable to you. It was acceptable to us. And there was so much money. Enough to do everything and so much left over. We took some for ourselves, we felt we deserved it. This was our creation. A rich country with no taxes." He turned his gaze again to Stephanie. "And before you call me a slime for enjoying myself that night, remember why your pals Hansen and O'Neill and so on are here. Their stories are on the Net. If you haven't read them, you should."

"I have," Stephanie replied coldly. "I know what they did. But there's a big difference. They went to the Preserve, yes. They killed women there, that was what the Preserve was for. They did not put innocent women, women they knew were innocent, in the Preserve. You did."

Ashe nodded. "Yeah. I did. Useless to deny it, isn't it? I know you have the goods on me, of all people. So what's it going to be? Hanging? Firing squad? Slow torture?" He shook his head. "Doesn't matter." Totally unexpectedly, he reached under his coat, whipped out an automatic pistol, and aimed it at Melanie. "You won't be there to enjoy it!"

No one reacted fast enough, and the heavy roar of the big .45 shook the room. Just an instant later, the Marine guards opened fire, and Ashe's body began spouting blood and bouncing in the chair. He died very quickly.

For an instant, Melanie wasn't certain about anything except that she was still alive. She looked down at her body; no bullet hole. Only then did she become aware of Harry's arm around her waist; apparently he, reacting with unbelievable speed, had pulled her out of the line of fire. Realizing that, she spun around; to her relief, there was a bullet hole in the wall. No one had been hit.

"Harry," she said, "you're amazing. You've saved me again; what's that make, fifty times?" Shaken, she was hardly able to believe she was still alive and unhurt. "Let's go," she said. "He said the President was in the Oval Office. Let's go do what we came here to do."

"Let us go ahead of you, ma'am," the captain of the Marine guard said. "We don't want any more incidents like that."

"Okay," she replied. "Take all precautions. I don't want any of your men killed, either."

He saluted smartly. "Yes, ma'am." With the Marines in the lead, they moved through the White House, headed for the Oval Office. The door was closed; carefully, with everyone standing out of any possible line of fire, the Marine captain opened in and slipped inside.

He came out shaking his head. "All clear, ma'am," he said. His facial expression told a story. Quickly, Melanie and Joan went in.

"Oh, no," Joan breathed as she saw the scene. In a chair in front of the President's desk, a woman--a very small woman--was slumped. Her head hung to the side, and there was a pool of blood on the floor. Behind the desk sat President Bussman--and he was face down in another pool of blood, this one on the desk. In his hand was a 9mm automatic.

Followed closely by Melanie, Joan walked to the woman in the chair first. The dead woman sitting there was in her fifties but her resemblance to Joan was apparent. "Oh, Mom," Joan whispered. "You were wrong, weren't you? I tried to tell you... he wasn't Robert Young, he didn't know best." Tears trickled down her cheeks. "I thought you'd be the one crying--when you heard I'd died in the fighting--"

"I'm sorry, Joan," Melanie said.

Joan shook her head. "No." She looked at her father's corpse. "For him, this is better. He was a very proud man. He probably did this when he heard your speech at the Capitol, when he heard you say you weren't going to execute anyone. Being imprisoned, standing trial--he couldn't face that." She touched her mother's shoulder lightly. "He just had to take Mom with him, though. Just had to. And I know her, she just sat here and let him shoot her and never said a word."

Melanie shook her head. "We need to go," she said. "The Vice-President is in here somewhere, we need to find him. And anyone else who's hiding here. You can stay if you want, the Marines will--"

Joan shook her head vigorously. "No. Why? They're dead. There's nothing more I can do for them, nothing I can say to them. It was all said, years ago, anyway." She wiped her eyes. "No. I'm with you, now. With your new government." She shook herself. "If you have a place for a girl with a degree in polysci who made average grades!"

"We'll find one," Melanie said. She glanced at the door. "Let's go."

They left the office, leaving some Marines with body bags to pack up the corpses. They found the Vice-President and his wife fairly quickly--both of them dead as well, they'd evidently taken poison. The Chief Justice of the Supreme Court and his wife were found upstairs, both of them hanging from nooses affixed to a chandelier. Senator Turkin turned up too, shot in the head. No one in the White House, as it turned out, was still alive. Only Ashe had remained, apparently to try to take Melanie with him.

"I suppose," Melanie said as she gazed at Turkin's corpse, "we need to get this place cleaned up and move in. We sure as hell do have a lot of work to do!"