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damage to our ability to fight this war is minimal.”
    “I suppose so, sir,” Marshall said. “General Block, you now have operational launch control of U.S. ICBMs in the ground. I’m your back-up here in the Looking Glass air command. General Carver?”
    “All my birds are in the air and my sharks are in the water,” he said, referring to U.S. bombers and submarines armed with nuclear warheads. “All awaiting orders, soon as we know whom to strike.”
    “I put my chips on yellow,” said Block. “I bet it’s General Zhang and the chinks.”
    Marshall could see the slight grimace on Carver’s face at Block’s derogatory remark. But Carver was too smart to be politically correct in a state of war, and Marshall had never seen Carver lose his cool. “From this moment on, everything goes strictly accordour plan per our Post Attack Command Control System,” Carver ordered. “Hell, Marshall, you wrote it. What’s next?”
    “The Nightwatch plane from Andrews is circling in the air until the Central Locator selects a designated presidential successor, “ said Marshall and pressed his speakerphone. “Major Tom, patch us through to Edwards. The NCA needs to speak to the new president, President O’Donnell.”
    “Negative, sir,” the voice on speaker said at the same moment Wilson walked into the conference room with another EAM printout. If Marshall didn’t know better, he could have sworn the impenetrable soldier’s lower lip was now quivering.
    “This just came in, sir.”
    Marshall scanned the EAM. Twice. Then he looked up at the big screen and broke the news to Block and Carver. “Central Locator says the SecDef swiped his card at the White House just before the blast. He died with the president.”
    Block looked stunned. “Then who is the designated presidential successor?”
    Marshall had trouble forming the words.
    “The Secretary of Education,” he said. “Deborah Sachs.”
    “Deborah Sachs?” Carver repeated, the look of dismay on his face rivaling that of Block’s. “Are you sure?”
    “Central Locator says so,” Marshall said. “As of right now, if she’s alive, she’s our new Commander-in-Chief.”
    “Deborah Sachs sure as hell ain’t my Commander-in-Chief,” Block said. “Who else have you got?”
    Marshall frowned and glanced at Carver on the split screen.
    “This isn’t a football game, Block,” Carver said, quickly getting a hold of himself. “We can’t simply sub any quarterback we like from our roster.”
    “You kidding me?” Block shot back. “This is the goddamn Armageddon Bowl, and Team USA needs to field her best quarterback.” Block glared out of the screen at Marshall. “Now, son, who else have we got?”
    “We have Percy Carson, the Secretary of Homeland Security,” Marshall said, playing along with Block as he tried to figure this nightmare out. “He was in Chicago to face election fraud charges from his stint as senator. The president wanted him out of sight for his State of the Union.”
    “Good enough for me,” Block said. “And a hell of a lot more qualified than Sachs.”
    Marshall said, “Only problem is that presidential succession goes in the order in which the Cabinet offices were created. And Homeland Security was created after Education.”
    “Then what about the Speaker of the House, somebody, anybody. How do we know for sure they’re all dead?”
    “Central Locator says so,” Marshall said. “Even if it’s wrong, FEMA rules state that if a higher-ranking successor has survived, he cannot retrieve the office from the sworn successor. Once Sachs is sworn in, she’s Commander-in-Chief.”
    Block said, “Then we have to see to it that she’s not sworn in until we’ve got somebody better to present to America’s people and enemies.”
    “Careful, boys,” Carver warned with unmistakable firmness. “The Constitution trumps any poApocalypse game scenarios. Report back in two minutes.”
    Carver disappeared from view, leaving a