The amber light of the desk lamp burned softly as Theodore Wheeler scribbled notes onto the notepad before him. He swore silently at first, then loudly. The Emergency Military Administration of Atlantic States had taken most of upstate New York and Pennsylvania. Zion was now almost entirely surrounded by D.C.

Theo's hand trembled ever so slightly, the weight of leadership heavier than any burden he'd shouldered before. In the silence of his study, his mind raced through stratagems and contingencies, a precarious gamble against the tightening noose around his neck.

His gaze drifted to the maps that littered the desk, the borders of Zion covered with arrows. Each red arrow, a possible route of invasion by D.C. He could almost hear already the distant rumble of EMAAS tanks and artillery. He could see himself hanged as a traitor already. Theodore scrounged up his notes and reports and stood up from the oak desk, scurrying into the next room.The room was quiet, save for the tick of the clock and the distant rumble of the city of Har ha-Zeitim itself. Outside a blanket of stars covered Mount Olive. The clanking of typewriters and low hum of urgent whispers in English and Hebrew filtered in from the adjacent room where the Shophet’s aides and military advisors huddled over their own maps and reports. Secretary of War Nathan Yellin-Mor, foremost among them, stood over the maps. Standing next to him was Major General Joseph Perez, Secretary of State Meir Ya’ari, and Secretary of Security Jacob Berman.

"The question," Nathan intoned gravely, his finger tracing the jagged lines that demarcated Zion's precarious front, "is not of if they will attack, but when and where."

Theodore nodded, his eyes never leaving the map. "We must anticipate General Aurand's moves. General Perez, what is the status of our defensive preparations?"

Major General Perez stepped forward, his posture rigid with the severity of his report. "My Shophet, our fortifications are not strong, but I do believe we would be able to defeat an EMAAS attack against us. The issue, however, is once fighting is done in New England…”

Wheeler took his glasses off, his hands trembling slightly.

“I know. The whole force of D.C. will come for us.” Wheeler replied.

"We have our advantages," Meir Ya'ari added, his voice controlled yet clearly fearful. "They may underestimate the will of a people fighting for their very existence."

Theodore nodded, but he knew better. He knew that the fanatical crusaders of the EMAAS would stop at nothing to eradicate any semblance of a Jewish state in North America. Meir was right about one thing, however: Zion would not go down without a fight. Theo stood tall, his back straightening with determination as old memories surged forth. He'd been in tight spots before: defending Mount Hope, fending off the EMAAS attacks at Mount Pleasant. They had always come out victorious. And maybe, just maybe, Zion could survive…