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Corealis was a force nothing would be allowed to obstruct.
    Today found the director far from his Fort Collins home base. He was in Illinois, attending a quarterly staff meeting at the regional capitol and interim White House. Along with the other regional governors and various department heads, Corealis spent the three-day assembly delivering progress reports to the president-in-exile and compiling notes for distribution through subordinate channels back at home. Unknown to the majority, however, another private order of business still remained for Corealis and a select few.
    Through a scattering of other exercisers, the director caught sight of his executive assistant. Toweling off, he awaited the man's approach.
    "Morning, sir," said the aide quietly on arriving. "The latest encrypted progress report from the country club was finally deciphered. Also, a special SHAPP update arrived by courier this morning."
    "How do things look?" asked the director.
    "The final steps in the catalyst rendering process are nearing completion. Keener reported station personnel to be condensing the first sample batches from prototype refining equipment. They should be completing all their process documentation for actual production manufacturing in the next couple of days. Then it's just a matter of striking camp."
    Corealis nodded pleasurably. He added a guarded sigh of relief.
    "Excellent, John. The uncertain pace out there lately has had me a little concerned. For all his whining, it seems maybe Doc Ashton has been on the mark all along. The project's ending just when things are starting to get a little too spooky with Keener." Corealis searched the young man's eyes. "What about the SHAPP data?"
    "Mixed news there. The report confirms a big EM storm brewing up over the North Pole. Its projected pathway is still holding steady across the Midwest and out over the country club, as we'd hoped. But its ETA has been moved up appreciably."
    "How much?"
    "Nominal projections are revised to thirty-six hours."
    "I assume solar recovery is also still proceeding."
    "Unfortunately. And with an accelerating pace."
    Corealis pursed his lips. "We were banking on the pre-storm margin for a gradual shutdown. But we'll just have to expedite things. Do you have a list of finalists for an extraction team?"
    "Yes, sir."
    Corealis swept his eyes about.
    "The time's also come to bring the president in on this. Guess I shouldn't really mind that part so much. It's been a long three years, keeping things secret. I'll be glad when he's finally on the inside. Sometime after tonight's dinner I'll get him alone and break the news."
    At that point, the aide conjured up a sheepish grin.
    "One other thing I have to report, sir. Seems there's been a minor change of plans regarding the normal send-off dinner."
    A note of special attentiveness rose in Corealis' voice.
    "Change?"
    "Yes, sir," replied his aide. "The regular dinner is still on. But the president has sent word of a meeting he wants to schedule with the regional governors and staff directly beforehand. In advance of that, he also sent word he'd like to see you alone in his private study."
    Reading the young man's face, Corealis huffed self-consciously. "Those tired old rumors again?"
    His aide shrugged coyly.
    Since Royce could remember, there'd been noise of filling the empty vice president's slot. His loss to the N.A. Flu had left the unmarried President Warrington with no executive backup or personal sounding board. And though decentralization of the federal government had reduced the presidency to a shadow of its former self, Royce knew reams of due-process laws still had to be reviewed before any could be modified to fit the circumstances. That would not only take time, but a gathering of lawmakers reluctant to invest it outside their own devastated state sectors.
    Besides, Royce Corealis was far too busy with important matters to spare much thought of appointment to the second-highest office in the land.