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The President of the United States sat in the Oval Office watching the destruction of the United States Seventh Space Fleet Task Force 70 for the tenth time. The more he had viewed the images the more the images burned into his head. What caught his attention was the circle of light with spiraling bands of multicolored light that reminded him of a wormhole similar to the ones they use. He watched again as one of the navy’s F/A-212 fighter-bombers flew right into it. Watching this again only added to his frustration because he had too many questions whirling in his head and no answers to them. Feeling himself driven mad with frustration, he cursed loudly slamming his hand down on his desk.
The president is a big man with ebony skin and curly black hair with a sprinkling of gray, cut close to his head military style. He sat behind his mahogany desk that he had requisitioned for the Oval Office because big beautiful desks like this never went out of fashion as some in the White House thought. When he had it delivered, the maintenance crew that had to lug it in here were grunting and complaining at how heavy the desk is. I bet they think it is out of fashion he had laughed to himself at the time especially since his predecessor did not have a desk at all only a few comfortable chairs to sit around in and chat or something. The desk is not simply a mahogany desk it had all the newest technology anyone could ever wish for including the president.
The desk has the newly installed Stellargraphic Systems Incorporated communication system replacing the old holographic system previously employed. The advancement in technology made the system far more realistic than the old system with the images more defined and stable to the point they are the most realistic images ever. They are so real that at times like this the president had to fight vertigo watching them play out in front of him. The images projected down from the ceiling above to the floor level allowing the viewer to orient the image or walk around the projected image to the opposite side for a different viewing angle. He used the Stellargraphic System for everything including conferencing and communications all over the world but this time he is using it to inflict self-torture, every time a ship was blown up a piece of his heart died.
For most of his life, President Andrew W Jackson was a discerning and thoughtful man. At sixty-three, he had learned that to be otherwise was to admit defeat in all things important and sitting behind his desk being frustrated is counterproductive and not very thoughtful. He had not always been a president before this; he was a college athlete graduating from the United States Naval Academy top of the class. He went in the navy as a young officer and thirty years later came out as an Admiral Chief of Naval Operations. Following that, he ran for governor of Texas and won serving two terms as governor of Texas and now he finds himself in the Oval Office the leader of the free world. His mother gave him his name; she said he needed a presidential name to go with his last name never dreaming he would be president in her lifetime.
Suddenly, a hard rapid knocking at the Oval Office door snapped him out of his reflections. He sighed looking at the door knowing he had to face the inevitable problems waiting on the other side. “Come in Scott!” Placing his hand over a small control panel embedded into his desk he shut the Stellargraphic system down. He had long since turned off the sound, another advancement in technology a subsidiary of Stellargraphic Systems Incorporated called Stellarsound Systems Incorporated discovered that could add sound matching the quality of the images to make the experience more intense. Every explosion shook the walls of the office disturbing all those outside the office working nearby.
The door immediately opened and a well-dressed younger man wearing an expensive Italian made dark blue three-piece suit and shoes walked in. Scott Anderson always liked to look his best, expensive clothes, and two-hundred dollar haircuts and fancy shoes. Not a big man, he still carried himself well with a sure confidence in his ability to succeed in everything he tries. Walking up to one of the two chairs in front of the desk and without waiting for an invitation, he sat brusquely into the chair. The president looked at Scott with a shocked expression not because of him taking a seat without invitation to sit but his appearance and mannerisms. His blond hair is out of place looking as if he had been running his fingers through it, his shirt unbuttoned with his tie pulled done about two inches is not the normal for mister perfect.
“I see you are having the same kind of day I am,” the president observed.
Scott looked at the president shaking his head yes. Scott is the president’s chief of staff and closest adviser. Even though Scott is half the president’s age, he is a trusted member of the presidential staff. Standing the president casually walked to a bookshelf built into one wall to a crystal decanter and glasses rested on one of the bottom shelves. Picking up the decanter, he took the crystal top off setting it on the tray pouring two full glasses of bourbon. Setting the decanter on the tray he picked up the two glasses of bourbon pausing looking around the around the room gathering his thoughts. He had the room remodeled to suit him taking great pride in the portraits of two past presidents hanging on one paneled wall and the rows of antique books sitting on the bookshelves around the room.
Walking back to his desk, he sat on the front edge handing a glass to Scott. Both took a drink letting the warmth of the bourbon work its way to down to their stomachs relaxing them some. “Scott you have all the same intelligence that I have which is not much. All I know is we are facing an enemy that looks like it is from some past mystical Dark Ages and our weapons do not have any effect on them.”
“Mr. President,” Scott paused in thought before continuing. “What has me out of my element and you know I am never out of my element is we do not know who this foe is or how to defeat them. What is certain is they have destructive capabilities that I have never imagined except in fairy-tale stories and fantasy novels from the twentieth century. Therefore, with that in mind I have a team searching electronic archives of all the old fairy tales and fantasy stories ever written. They are to look for any reference they can on the subject however implausible it may sound.”
“Scott if they need go to North Pole to check out a lead…”
“I know Mr. President they understand,” Scott interrupted the president.
“All right from this point on drop the formalities; we don’t have the time for procedures and red tape. From this point on while in private or intelligence meetings with the joint chiefs I am simply Walker. Press conferences and meetings of state we will have to use normal decorum and protocols.” The president liked his middle name much better than his first. Even as a child, he thought Walker is a great name for a die-hard Texan.
“Ok Mr. President I mean Walker. That might take some getting used to sir.”
“I am sure you can manage Scott.”
“Yes Mr. President,” he laughed both enjoying the humor of the moment.
The moment passed and the each took a sip of their drink. Walking around his desk to his chair, he set his drink on his desk. Taking off his dark-brown suit jacket, he laid it over the back of his high back chair loosening his tie before he sat looking directly at Scott.
Games of the Powerful Page 9