Alien in Chief (18 page)

CHAPTER 34

E
VERYONE STARED AT ME.
“Excuse me?” Strauss said finally.

“I hate campaigning. I think us doing it constantly is a hell of a way to earn a living. I realize that it's par for the political course, but it's not a game I enjoy.”

“So you're saying that you think we should, what, share that the Planetary Council is coming?” Strauss seemed thrown by someone speaking honestly. Good.

“I think that you and Ariel and many others spent the last week and definitely the last twenty-four hours getting every possible position for Vince ready. I think you have them. Why you're not sharing them with us is the question.”

“We want to know what you've formulated first.”

“Why? So you can tell us we're wrong, tell us we're right, or just to keep things interesting on a long journey?”

“Ah, no to all of those, Ambassador. We want to work together. We want to know what you think are the right courses of action. Isn't that what you'd recommend?”

“You want to really know what I think, what I recommend? I think we're wasting a hell of a lot of time. I think we've got escaped murderers out there who are absolutely after everyone on this train. I think we have allies who want to visit us for reasons we don't know. I think three of you are sick, in part because you've probably spent so much
time on all this crap. And I recommend we disband and relax until we have to do the ridiculous dog and pony show that's our cover for why we're going down to Florida in the first place.”

Strauss had recovered and was trying not to smirk. She wasn't succeeding, but points to her for trying. “Ambassador, you're sounding a bit like a loose cannon.”

“That's because I
am
the loose cannon. And what a freaking surprise that totally isn't to everyone in this car. Look, Monica, it's going to be a good two hours until our first stop in Richmond. We can spend that time suggesting and recommending and pussyfooting around. Or you can come right damn out and tell us what you think we should do, and we can agree or disagree.”

“We wanted your thoughts—”

“Oh, bullpookey. Let's face it—the moment the first person asks a question about the escaped killers, we're going to be busy sharing how we're ever so confident that law enforcement of all kinds will track them down that we won't have time to mention that we're headed to a reunion party at NASA Base. And what's
your
position on that, Monica?”

She shot a look at Mom. “We regret that our security was breached.”

“See, I don't like your tone, or your insinuation. If there was a breach, it was in the Pentagon. Where, frankly, you're supposed to have guards. You, the Secretary of State, along with Secretary of Defense, are who has the responsibility for the supermax, under the Pentagon. Meaning we should be asking you, specifically, Monica, what you're going to do about it. So, what's your plan?”

“Ah . . . I have none. That's not really my area—”

“Bullpookey again. And, let's also face it, you're trying to get us to recommend or suggest, or whatever the hell weasel word you're hoping we'll use, a course of action so that if things go wrong, you'll be able to blame us for it. Just like you're hoping to blame us for the supermax escapees.
You want to set it up so you can blame us if things go wrong, anything and everything.”

I leaned across the table toward her. “But, get this straight, right here and right now. You're not ‘allowing' us on this trip—
we're
generously allowing
you
to come along. The only people who are friends with and have any influence over the Planetary Council and the rest of the folks in the Alpha Centauri solar system are us. So don't think that you're going to run this show—this is our area of expertise.”

This time she did smirk. “So you're accepting responsibility for their actions?”

“Hardly, any more than I'd accept responsibility for your actions, Monica. Because influence doesn't mean we tell them what to do, any more than they tell us what to do. It means we can hope to keep them happy about Earth, or ask them for help, and vice versa. However, I can guarantee that they're coming here right now for a reason. Richard may be right—that reason may be that they're concerned about the status of NASA Base. It
is
the place that's been receiving and, presumably, replying to their messages for decades, after all.”

“Gideon Cleary is meeting us in Orlando and will be doing what he can to support keeping that Base open.”

“Yes, he is. He's also got influence with all those people trying to close the Base. And yet, for our current example, he can't make them change their minds just because he wants them to, can he?”

I wasn't asking rhetorically. So I waited, keeping eye contact with Strauss and also keeping my mouth shut. Thankfully, I'd trained everyone we worked with in this particular sales technique—once the offer or, in this case, the question was out there, the first person to speak was the loser.

Strauss tried, but, unlike me, her boss was sitting next to her, also not speaking. She gave in. “No. He can't make people change their minds just because he's changed his.”

“Exactly. But there may be a whole lot more going on than we know about. There usually is. We can spend the trip
guessing wildly, prepping plans for all possibilities, and you and I can literally and figuratively have a cat fight the entire time. Or we can accept that we have a whole lot of smart, competent people on this train, and decide that we'll roll with the punches as they come. I realize that's not the Political Weasel Word of the Day Way, but it's our way, and I strongly
suggest
you try our way for a while.”

“We're on the same side, Ambassador.”

“No, we're not. Vince is on our side. Ariel is on our side. You? You I'm not convinced are on our side.” Felt Jeff and Chuckie both stiffen next to me.

“I'm on the side of what's best for this country and her people,” Strauss said firmly. “All her people, and that includes those who have come here from other countries or other planets.”

“Nice to hear.” I didn't believe it, but the lip service was a pleasant change. “However, when things go wrong, as they always do, if you so much as try to blame American Centaurion for anything up to and including the escaped prisoners or any issues with the visiting aliens from far, far away, then you're going to find yourself on the wrong side of our good will. And that might not be a place you'll like to be.”

I leaned back. “Or maybe that's exactly where you want to be. But you will not be making American Centaurion your fall guy for anything.”

“American Centaurion is our ally and are our people,” Armstrong added.

Strauss nodded. “That's not my intent, Ambassador, and I agree with the President. We are all on the same side here.” She picked up the papers in front of her and tapped them on the table. Then she put them face down. “We'll focus on standard campaign discussions, lots of smiling, hand shaking, and waving. This is impromptu, so we're likely to hit very few stops where it's packed. Due to the breakout, however, we can and should expect press, probably more as we get closer to Orlando.”

“See?” I asked. “Was that so hard? I agree. I'd suggest we have Raj and Ariel do most of the talking, with Vince and Jeff doing most of the smiling and waving.”

“I agree,” Strauss said. “And I think that while we want to show that you and the First Lady are along, we don't necessarily want the two of you speaking.”

“I wouldn't want the loose cannon speaking either, so no worries there.”

Strauss laughed and, for whatever reason, I felt like we'd just crossed some line together. Whether it was a good, bad, or indifferent line I didn't know. “Good point. So, since we're just going to hang out and chat, what are your thoughts about the escaped criminals? Do we have enough security?”

“You can never have enough security, as the escape just amply proved. And my thoughts about the escapees are pretty simple—shoot them on sight, and shoot to kill.”

CHAPTER 35

S
TRAUSS AND ARIEL
looked shocked, Armstrong looked concerned. “You're sure?” he asked me.

“Vince, I'm sure they're going to shoot to kill
us
. These are people we've been dealing with since before Operation Destruction. They want us and all of our allies killed. You're an ally and the most powerful man in the world right now. I'd have to figure you and Jeff both have the same targets on your heads.”

“I don't know how we add more security than we have without making the population panic,” Armstrong said.

“I think we're good with who we have with us.” Why mention that I was fairly sure that at least part of Team Assassination was on their way down to Florida to provide backup? Or point out how many of our people were prepared to fight, which was, realistically, everyone other than Vance.

“It's security at each stop that's the issue,” Mom said. “We have Secret Service, A-C Field, and P.T.C.U. agents assigned to each station. However, all it takes is one bullet that hits the mark.”

“We'll be fine,” Jeff said. “Vince, I honestly suggest everyone just relax for this part of the trip. We'll probably all be better off if we're less stressed.”

“You'd know, Jeff,” Armstrong said. “Let's do what the Vice President suggests.”

The meeting broke up with everyone, the President included, heading out toward the dining car. We continued on through our car, and Jeff indicated the others should keep going and we'd catch up. But he kept a hold of Chuckie and Mom both in a surreptitious manner I was pretty sure no one had caught but me.

However, that meant it was going to be obvious that they were hanging back, and I had to figure Jeff didn't want that. “Hey, Mom, Chuckie, can you two hang here for a minute? I have a clothing question.”

“Sure, kitten,” Mom said. Chuckie nodded.

Armstrong grinned. “Whatever you wear will be fine, Kitty.”

“Oh, you say that now, but I guarantee it's not so.” We all chuckled and Armstrong and the others kept moving.

Once everyone else was through and it was back to the standard personnel for our car, Jeff turned to me. “You don't like Monica. I know it's because the other version of you didn't like her. Chuck, what's your impression of her?”

“I think she's a political animal of the highest order and has her eyes on your job and then Vince's,” Chuckie replied immediately. “But I'm not sure that Kitty should have called her out in this way at this time.”

“She should have,” Jeff said, voice tight. “Because I didn't pick up any animosity or hatred from Monica, and the stress level was also very low.”

“Meaning she's wearing an emotional blocker or overlay,” Buchanan said.

Mom's eyes flashed. “You think she was responsible for the breakout?”

“I think the Secretary of State is four heartbeats away from the Presidency, and if you consider that two of those heartbeats are on this train, a third heartbeat was attacked, and the last one, despite current events, is probably not under the highest guard possible, I'd say the odds go up to at least even.”

Evalyne and Joseph were both talking into their headpieces and tapping on their phones. Buchanan was on his phone, too. Evalyne finished first. “We've increased the guard around the Speaker of the House and the President Pro Tempore of the Senate.”

“Good,” Mom said. “Hopefully it's enough. Good call keeping us back, Jeff, Kitty.”

“Thanks. I'm a little attached to Senator McMillan, let's recall. And the Speaker of the House is always nice to us, too.”

McMillan had been elected President Pro Tempore a year ago, and he was a huge supporter, meaning Huntress attack or no, his head was definitely in our enemies' sights. Whether or not the Speaker was with us, with our enemies, or neutral I had no idea, but it was probably best to figure neutral and needing protection.

“I don't care if you loathe them,” Mom said. “They're not going to be assassinated on my watch if I can help it at all.”

“Point taken and agreed with. And, not to point my fingers any more than I already am, but there was that assassination attempt on Senator McMillan last week. Ergo, Strauss moves to the head of the line in terms of suspicion. I do actually have a clothing question, though, Mom.”

“Really? What is it?”

I held up my duffel bag. “Is it going to cause a lot of problems if I dress for what I expect to happen?”

“What is it you expect?” Len asked.

I snorted. “Dude, I expect us to be attacked. And I fight better in casual clothes. And before anyone tells me that I'm not supposed to get involved and, instead, stay all safe and protected, I want all of you to consider how often I get that option. Take your time, I'll wait.”

The heads in the room collectively nodded and there were several sighs, heaviest from Jeff, Mom, and Chuckie, with the Secret Service's sighs echoing on cue.

“She's right,” Chuckie said. “But Kitty, if you're expecting trouble, won't you changing just indicate that and tip off everyone?”

“Oh, you underestimate me. Trust me, I have a plan that will work. Besides, Strauss already knows we're expecting trouble, so if she's in on whatever's going on, her compatriots already know that we know.”

Jeff laughed. “No one here underestimates you, baby.”

“Awesome. So, let's head for the main dining car and rejoin everyone. I'm starving.”

“You just ate,” Mom pointed out. “For at least the second time this morning.”

“Just accept that I'm part hobbit, Mom. Action and boredom both make me hungry, what can I say?”

We headed for the dining car, but I left my duffel bag in the room. I'd be back for it shortly.

Jeff had everyone else go ahead of us, though of course the Secret Service were trailing to ensure we didn't stop to have sexy times. Haters.

“I know what you're planning,” he said quietly to me. “Just try not to affect anyone else. Not even Monica, though I know you'd love to.”

“Fine, Stealer of All My Joy.”

The main dining car's personnel had also been with the Office of the President for years. Shawn, who was the chef, Janet, who was the cook, and Kenton, the headwaiter, had all been in service for a couple of decades, Kenton for thirty years, the two women over twenty years each. Andrea, the pastry chef, and Wade and Duncan, the other two waiters for the car, had been around for seven years each.

Got my hugs from all of them, then headed in to find a place to sit and eat. Armstrong and Elaine were at a table for four, but they had no one else with them. Clearly the other two seats were for us, based on Armstrong waving us over.

We sat and gave Duncan our food and drink orders. In
deference to the A-Cs' deathly allergy to alcohol, Armstrong had declared Rail Force One as well as Rail Force Two alcohol-free zones.

While we sipped our drinks, it occurred to me that we'd been really lucky so far in one aspect. “You know, I hate to jinx us, but why do you think our enemies haven't just tried slipping vodka into every A-C's drink?”

Armstrong looked concerned. “I thought all A-Cs wore something to determine alcohol content.”

“We do.” Our scientists had created a sensor that every A-C wore. It attached to any kind of jewelry, and most of them wore the sensor attached to watches, bracelets, and even a few rings. Jeff's was in his watch. They'd been created after Operation Fugly, and everyone wore one, as soon as they were old enough to safely wear jewelry. I wore one in my watch, too, because we weren't sure if alcohol would affect me or not.

A lot of our human personnel wore them, too. Not to protect themselves, but as a catchall for the A-Cs they worked with. But still, mistakes could and did happen, and all it would take was the wrong sip at the wrong time.

“I'd assume our enemies know that's not a way to get to us, baby,” Jeff said. “Why are you worried about this all of a sudden?”

“No idea.”

Now Jeff looked worried. “Feminine intuition acting up?”

Jeff felt that what my mother called my gut and what I called my Megalomaniac Girl skills was my form of feminine intuition. And he trusted that in me as a gauge of what to worry about, listen to, prepare for, etc.

“I honestly have no idea. I guess it's just because I'm jumpy.”

“We have food testers,” Armstrong said. “Because there are plenty of poisons. As you well know.” As he said this, Duncan brought our meals, though he didn't say anything about poisoning them one way or the other.

“Yeah.” A friend of ours had been poisoned at a dinner party we'd thrown, at the start of Operation Sherlock. “As long as they're on the case, and not dying, I think I'm just trying to anticipate the moves. Especially because of Lizzie.”

“Lizzie?” Elaine asked. “Who's that?”

“Oh. Right. We haven't caught you guys up on the other things going on.” Which Jeff and I proceeded to do, leaving out some key Team Assassination facts.

When we were done, Armstrong's eyes were narrowed. “If Ansom Somerall is involved, I'm with Kitty—we need to be prepared for anything. Her parents creating a superdrug indicates Gaultier, too.”

“But until we handle the Planetary Council, NASA Base, and whoever's trying to kill Gideon,” Jeff said, “not to mention the escaped prisoners, illnesses and poisonings seem very low on the list of concerns.”

Armstrong smiled. “Good point. Jeff, I realize we're hoping we'll get a second term. But when my time as President is done, you need to accept the party's request for you to run.”

Jeff groaned. “Vince, I'm not happy being a politician.”

“No, but you're happy helping the people of this country, and the world. You're one of the few whose heart, head, and actions are always in the right place. And while you're willing to compromise, you won't give in on the wrong things. And I know Don's told you the same things.”

“He has,” Jeff admitted. This was true. I'd heard McMillan telling Jeff things like this for years now.

“Well,” Elaine said, patting Armstrong's hand, “Jeff will have plenty of time to worry about this, Vince. For now, let's just enjoy our meal and relax until the real action starts.”

No sooner did she say this, than the train lurched. And I took my opportunity.