PROLOGUE

August, 2043


The phone rang incessantly, and Frank Pembrooke was quite frankly sick of it. He knew who was calling before he even looked at the Caller Identify screen.

He grabbed the receiver off the phone and barked into it, "I thought I told you people last time you called that I will support whomever I please for President!"

"Even if your son-in-law's life was at stake?" the caller asked condescendingly.

"You leave Joey out of this!" Pembrooke said angrily; "He's a good man who doesn't need the likes of you dictating his very existance!"

"But he's Undesirable, as is your whole family, Mr. Pembrooke," the caller said; "We will succeed with our plans for a One Race, One Faith state. And you'll either be dead or in prison for your support of a Mixed presidential candidate."

"I'm hanging up now," Pembrooke said; "Do not call this number again. We are not interested in your sick plans for the United States."

"Long Live the Republic of America!"  the called cried as Pembrooke hung up on him.

Pembrooke slammed the receiver back on the phone, not caring at that moment if it broke. "Sons of bitches," he muttered as he stalked up the hall; "Living in the fucking dark ages for shit like that!"

Tracy Donovan looked out of her office as her father walked by, and hearing his mutterings, knew who had been on the phone.

She wondered, again, if the threat of a second Occupation would come to pass. She wondered if her grown daughters were getting the same calls; she wondered if her adopted sons were being harassed at school because of the family's position on the maintenance of the current government.

Most of all, she worried about her husband, who was of mixed race parentage. Was he an early target for elimination that the Occupationists favored?

All because he was the brother of a Mixed man running for President.

===
"Antonia Cantrell reporting for service as requested," the tall and curvaceous young mixed race woman before him said.

"Miss Cantrell," he said; "I trust your studies are going well."

"Sir?" Cantrell asked; "I'm sure you did not bring me here to ask after my studies."

"No, Toni, I didn't," the new Director of the CIA said; "I have an assignment for you. You're aware of threatening phone calls going out to supporters of Undesirable presidential candidates?"

"Yes, sir," Cantrell said; "My grandfather gets one or two a week, according to my Aunt Tracy."

"We know who is funding the group making those calls," the Director said. "Your assignment is to eliminate that individual. It can be done in a few hours because he is currently in Washington. After that, you can go back to Loyola and take your Anatomy exam."

"Begging the Director's pardon," said Cantrell, "but I hate that you know more about my exam schedule than I do."

"It's my job to know everything about what you and Miss Summers do," the Director said; "After all, Rachel is my niece biologically. I have to know what my top assassins are upto at all times."

"Then you know that I have two eight hour shifts with my Paramedic unit this weekend," Cantrell said.

"Indeed I do," the Director said; "And I know that Rachel and Cole have a date Friday night. I'm  trying to let you live your lives as normal as possible, Aaliyah. Now, take out this asshat making the threatening calls and go back to your normal 17 year old college student life."

Cantrell rolled her eyes. If the Director were anyone other than JT Collins-Ross, she'd be freaked out about how much he knew about her life. Instead, she replied,

"There has never been anything about my life, or Rachel's, or Zach's for that matter,  that could be construed as quote-unquote normal from the moment we were born. You know who our parents are."

The Director only nodded and dismissed Antonia Cantrell to carry out her assignment. After that was completed, she could go back to being Aaliyah Donovan and living that so called "normal" life.

Normal for her, her siblings, and her cousins, that is.

===

"Un cookie, mamma?" fifteen month old Aida Schuykill asked her mother.

"No, Aida, non ora," Rina d'Alessandro-Schuykill told her daughter. "It's almost time for little girls to go to bed."

Rina and Jeremy's little girl was growing up faster than they would have liked. But at least they did not have to hire a nanny to take care of her. Rina had started her software business with the blessing of Julia Summers, the owner and CEO of Summers Tech Systems, for whom Rina started working with just after her daughter was born. She would still be on STS's payroll, but with a little one at home and another on the way, it was easier for Rina to work from home.

Rina had also been named Contessa d'Alessandro on her 21st birthday just two months before. The title meant nothing to her, but the monetary inheritance would help with her familly's savings until Jeremy finished his Bachelor's degree in Tech and Mainframe Systems.

She and Jeremy had taken over the rent payments of the house that she, Helene DeWitt-Bastova, and Jaime Summers-Walters had rented from Jaime's aunt the awful summer after their freshman year of college.

The summer that Rina almost died.

Helene and her husband, Alexei had moved to Chicago, as both danced with Chicago Ballet. They'd had a little girl four months ago they named Kathryn Courage. Helene had just landed a new role in a new ballet that was making its national debut in November. Alexei was the choreographer for the ballet, titled "Courage". It was not from the ballet that the Bastovs got their daughter's middle name. It had a more personal meaning, especially to Helene.

Jaime and Jared Walters, and their daughter, had moved back to Belvidere so that he could take over management of the Summers Ranch after his grandfather was incapacitated by a stroke. Ben Walters was recovering well, but realized that he was not up to the day to day tasks of running the ranch. His wife, Sara, still took care of the ranch's books, and kept the house in order.

The futures of all three women,  and their families, would hang on the perverted whims of one sick man.

===

Jeremiah hated giving speeches. It started when he was still a young boy, and his guardian Kiera San Marco had the older kids prepare speeches on some of the things they had learned during the learning cycle. Then, he only had to convince Kiera, her husband Peter, and sometimes David Draiman, the Voice of the Resistance of the former Occupational government.

Now he had to convince the entire nation he was the right man for the job.

Jeremiah’s speech, as usual, was on point. He wanted to continue the policies started by the current occupant of the White House, but also advocated reforms so that an Occupational type government would never happen again.

But plans were in motion to make a second Occupation not only a possibility, but a reality that no one, not even the man who wanted to make it so, ever expected.

It would take several young adults to thwart those plans. Including the long forgotten daughter of the man who wanted to run it all.

===