The President eyed the Egyptian colonel for a moment with a charged look. It was washed away in a flash by the impassive facade of a career politician, but the look was there as the President turned his attention to Commander Gallono. “Would you please join us in the Oval Office so that we can bring you up to speed on your people’s communications with us so far?”
“Certainly Mr. President,” Gallono said and followed Captain Hastelloy into the next room.
Mark turned to follow, but was stopped by the President’s raised palm. “I need you and your partner to oversee the transport of our guests to Camp David.”
“But sir…” Mark began, but had his words cut short by the Oval Office door snapping shut behind the President. “Yes sir.”
“This way please,” a secret service agent directed with an outstretched arm. “Marine One is waiting to fly you to Camp David.”
The words spoken framed it as a request for everyone to follow. However, the other six secret service agents moving in from the room’s perimeter made it quite apparent that this was an order to be followed.
Colonel Azire and the others found themselves funneled through a set of glass French doors that opened toward the south lawn. A metal placard staked into the ground nearby let him know that they were now entering the famed Rose Garden.
After seeing the expansive gardens at the Palace of Versailles near Paris, he found the White House Rose Garden to be supremely unimpressive. It was so small and understated by only featuring a hundred foot long, sixty-foot wide grassy lawn flanked by waist high bushes and flowers with a few crabapple trees here and there. The arrangement was pleasant enough, but managed to underwhelm when compared to two thousand acres of statues, flowers, manicured hedges and ornate fountains that the French had on display. Somehow, he expected more from the world’s richest nation.
Colonel Azire was not afforded any time to stop and smell the roses. They were rushed across the Rose Garden grounds at a forced march to reach a large green and white transport helicopter situated on the grass of the south lawn with engines running. The six passengers were corralled onboard, and the door was shut behind them without a word spoken. Moments later, they were airborne and heading northwest out of the city for the presidential mountain retreat.
Dr. Holmes and Professor Russell seemed to take it all in stride and were content looking out the windows to pass the time. The two NSA agents also kept quiet, but looked rather annoyed with being kept away from the action. Their entire careers had revolved around alien activity on Earth and now that first contact was about to be made they were on the outside looking in. It must have felt something like a star soccer player being told to sit out the World Cup finals. This should have been their moment, and they did not like being benched by the coach one bit.
A little over ten minutes into the flight, Alex was the first to grow impatient and reached for the intercom button. “How long is the flight time supposed to be?”
“We land in fifteen minutes, ma’am,” a no-nonsense female voice answered.
Colonel Azire had not given the matter much thought until then, but why did Alex have to use the intercom at all to have that question answered? He looked up the row of leather couches leading to the cockpit and noticed for the first time that there were no secret service men aboard to watch them or answer questions. It did not change anything since they were in mid-flight and could not go anywhere, but the lack of security piqued Colonel Azire’s curiosity. He got up, made his way toward the cockpit door, and opened it to find a single occupant.
“Can I help you, sir?” the surprised pilot asked with an edge to her words as she looked over her shoulder at the unwanted intrusion into her workspace.
“I…I was going to ask your co-pilot a question, but I don’t want to distract you. It can wait,” Colonel Azire said. The fact that there was no co-pilot for a presidential aircraft of this size seemed quite peculiar to him. Still, he figured the current list of passengers did not warrant the extra manpower. He was just about to close the door and return to his seat when a puff of smoke from the woodlands up ahead caught his attention through the front windshield.
A white trail of smoke lanced away from the point of origin with a long, green shaft leading the way. Colonel Azire recognized it as a stinger missile an instant before it turned Marine One and its occupants into an expanding fireball in the sky.
Chapter 9: Turning the Tables
“Have a seat,” the President offered Gallono and Hastelloy pointing to the pair of couches facing one another with a coffee table in between. The President then raised a beckoning hand in the direction of his scientific advisor seated on one of the couches. “Please read the entire message we received from the Novi for Commander Gallono’s benefit.”
The scientific advisor took a moment to clear his throat and then recited, “Our arrival is imminent. That’s it. Four little words that could be interpreted to mean almost anything, good or bad they are all we have to work with at this point.”
Gallono could find no fault in the man’s assessment. It was cryptic, ambiguous, and had to have been meticulously crafted that way for a reason. There had to be more to it. “You received that initial reply almost a week ago. Has there been any further communication received?”
“No, nothing.”
Gallono looked to Hastelloy for his read on things. “I’ve had several days to think on it, and I am just as baffled as you. The only conclusion I can draw is that the Novi council themselves don’t know how they should react to our message.”
“Where’s the complication? They come get us as soon as possible; it’s as simple as that,” Gallono said.
“Do they just take us away and leave like nothing has happened on this planet? Do they leave us or others here as observers to make sure no Neo Scale contamination took hold over this planet during our extended stay?” Hastelloy offered as a few examples.
“Or do they take a week to amass a battle fleet, show up, and take over the planet?” the President snapped out of frustration with his lack of control over the situation.
“You’ve watched too many of your Hollywood movies,” Gallono countered. “The Novi are by nature a peaceful people who honor and value the sanctity of all life.”
“At least they were four thousand years ago,” Hastelloy cautioned. “The perceived loss of our fleet and the Nexus, or several thousand additional years of fighting with the Alpha could have fundamentally changed the noble society we knew and served.”
The debate continued going around in circles on itself for ten minutes. As the President asked, for what had to be the hundredth time, what they could expect when the Novi arrived, Gallono could not shake the feeling that the President was stalling for time. “Why are we still doing this? My arrival to this conversation is adding nothing to its resolution. It feels like you’re stalling for some reason. Why?”
“My planet may come under attack in the next few hours or days. Thanks to the two of you I don’t have the luxury of wasting time,” the President declared with indignation at the accusation.
“If the Novi arrive with hostile intentions there’s nothing you can do about it. That’s it, end of story, and deep down you know that’s the case,” Gallono said. “However, if they simply extract us and the Nexus without making a scene…”
“Then I will be left with the unenviable task of keeping the greatest secret in human history under wraps,” the President said finishing Gallono’s sentiment.
“The others,” Gallono blurted out as if it were the winning answer to a game show question. His face then growing flush with rage as the President’s intentions became clear to him. Between serving as Dr. Holmes’ secretary for years and engaging in a life or death struggle with Frank and the two archeologists in China, Gallono now considered them his friends. “You think all of them know too much and you’re going to have them killed to keep them quiet.”
“You have kept us separated from them for quite some time, Mr. President,” Haste
lloy observed with far more calm in his voice than Gallono could stand to hear.
“At this moment all six of them are onboard Marine One, my own personal helicopter,” the President insisted as if the statement would exonerate him.
“It’s one of eighteen helicopters in your aging fleet,” Gallono countered. “What’s going to happen to them, an in-flight accident? Are you going to claim it was a malfunction so you can have the added bonus of securing funding for a new fleet of upgraded birds?”
The President sat maddeningly silent, refusing to make eye contact with either of them. Before Gallono could do something rash, Hastelloy got to his feet. “Call it off. If you want my help when the Novi arrive, you will call this off. Now!”
“I couldn’t even if I wanted to. It’s already been set into motion,” the President admitted while shaking his head.
“We’ll see about that,” Hastelloy said and grabbed the rolled up view screen and unfurled it across the coffee table. He turned it on and pulled up a list of programs with a live feed of Tonwen inside the Sphinx chamber in the background.
“Captain, you and I are very much alike in this,” the President began in his most diplomatic tone while Hastelloy worked. “You have issued orders resulting in men under your command dying. You have executed plans throughout human history that killed millions, MILLIONS, of humans, but it was necessary for the greater good to defeat those Alpha creatures and prevent them from taking over the planet.”
“My order to destroy that helicopter will result in six deaths, but how many people would die in the ensuing panic if what they knew ever got out. Worldwide hysteria of Biblical proportion would take hold. Millions, possibly even billions, would die. My order, distasteful as it may be, was for the greater good. Just like yours have been in the past.”
“You’re right, Mr. President, it’s too late,” Tonwen announced from the view screen occupying the coffee table. “A news report is already showing Marine One was destroyed in midair by a shoulder-fired stinger missile.”
“You’re going down for this,” Gallono declared on the way to his feet.
“No I’m not,” the President declared in a casual manner from his seated position. “The missile will be traced back to a middle-eastern terrorist group. An assassination attempt on the President should sway public and world opinion back in our direction. Something we desperately need in light of recent events in Cairo.”
“That’ll do, Gallono. We’ve got what we needed,” Hastelloy announced with a satisfied smile growing across his face while eying the Commander-in-Chief much as a jungle cat looked upon its prey. “My first officer is correct you are going down for this.”
Hastelloy tapped a button on the display screen, which then showed a perfect video playback of the entire incriminating conversation.
“And I thought Nixon had problems when the Watergate scandal broke,” Gallono observed from over the President’s shoulder.
Chapter 10: Deal with the Devil
The President sat in silence as he stared with a blank expression at his image on the flat screen in front of him. Every minute or so a frustrated blast of air escaped his nostrils as he pondered and discarded approach after approach on how to deal with his predicament.
Gallono could not fathom a way out for the man. Then again, he was never much of a politician or strategist like the President or Hastelloy. The moment he spotted a twinkle of hope in the man’s eyes, Gallono’s stomach threatened to turn inside out; the man had a plan.
The President made a show of slowly raising his arms into the air and declared, “You got me. I didn’t think recording me in my own office was possible, but look who I am dealing with here. With the advanced technologies you have access to, I suppose I should have seen it coming. How very careless of me. Now the question is what do you plan on doing with that recording?”
“Reuters, CNN or the BBC news service comes to mind,” Gallono offered. “We’ll skip Fox ‘News’ for obvious reasons,” he added, taking great pleasure at insulting the thinly veiled extension of the Republican president’s political party.
“For what purpose? The deed is done, and the dead are not coming back; what’s left for you? Money? I can’t believe that’s of interest to beings like you,” the President said in a calm, confident voice.
“Leverage,” Hastelloy answered. “Having the right leverage applied at the proper point can move mountains.”
Hastelloy’s statement did nothing to rattle the President’s confidence as he spoke again. “The problem is you can’t use this particular piece of leverage that you’ve acquired.”
“How do you figure?” Gallono asked.
“If I’m not mistaken, divulging this footage to the public would fly right in the face of that non-interference directive you hold so dear. Think about it. President Clinton lied about where he placed some cigars with a female intern while in office and the scandal gripped the entire nation.”
“A president on trial as an accessory to murder?” the President continued. “Well, that just might turn the entire world on its head at a very critical moment in our cultural development. Unless you think first contact with an alien species is just another day.”
The President paused long enough for his words to sink in before hitting Hastelloy with one last blow. “As for the revenge factor that’s no doubt tickling the back of your mind, it’s not as if I would ever see any jail time if that footage were released. As President, I have full immunity from prosecution for any actions taken as the head of state. Otherwise every President would be hauled off in chains at the end of his term.”
Gallono’s basic animal instinct was to knock the American President around until his smug smirk melted away along with all the slimy political maneuvers he harbored. Hastelloy was a different breed. The captain’s strategic mind was always three steps ahead of his adversary, and today was no different. The captain would never admit it, but Gallono was certain he drew immense pleasure from that combustible moment when his opponent realized he had been bested.
“Mr. President, do you recall what the Alpha’s favorite saying is when they are faced with defeat?” Hastelloy began with an innocent tone.
“Death is only the beginning or something to that effect.”
“Truer words were never spoken,” Hastelloy replied with an amused glow about him. With the tap of a button on the view screen, Hastelloy brought up a live feed inside the Sphinx chamber. “Tonwen, are they ready?”
“Yes sir. The DNA tagging that Gallono implanted in each of them worked to perfection.”
“Excellent. Well then, Mr. President, I believe we have six very angry individuals who’d like to face the man who ordered their murder.”
The view screen then switched to display the Nexus regeneration chamber with the glass lid finishing its movement into an open position. Moments later a naked male sat up straight gasping for air. After a minute, the man got his breathing under control and climbed his way out of the chamber with the help of three other men wearing khaki pants and plain gray t-shirts.
With his back turned to the camera feed, the man got dressed and was then joined on screen by a woman and another man with olive-colored skin wearing similar clothing. Together they faced the camera to show themselves as those believed killed aboard Marine One.
“And to think I voted for you,” Alex snapped.
“Same goes for me,” Professor Russell added. “The first thing I’m going to do when I get back home is turn in my Republican Party registration card.”
“Not me,” Frank said. “Texas may be a big state, but if you ever set foot inside her borders you can kiss that foot and the ass it belongs to goodbye. I’ll make damn sure of that fact.”
“The same sentiment applies to my country of Egypt,” Colonel Azire chimed in.
Mark placed his arm across the shoulder of his brother Jeffery and together they flipped their President off with a middle finger salute. “One time through that machine a few weeks ago was enough f
or me, thank you very much. I had no desire to do it again.”
“None of us wanted to go through that you son of a bitch,” Alex shouted.
“Enough,” Hastelloy intervened before things got out of hand. “Here is the deal, Mr. President. Those survivors you see on screen are each set up with endowments worth ten million dollars, funded by my men and the wealth we’ve amassed over the four millennia we’ve spent on your planet. Each of them will continue living their lives as they see fit so long as they say nothing to anyone about what they know.”
“That’ll never work,” the President insisted. “Someday one of them will tell a spouse, get drunk and tell a bartender, or get desperate for money and sell their story.”
“Ten million dollars goes a long way,” Hastelloy countered.
“The NSA has managed to deflect, deny, or paint UFO buffs as loons since the 1950s,” Mark added from the video screen. “Any of us could be discredited with little effort by the agency, and besides, who in their right minds would believe all this anyway?”
“The bottom line, Mr. President, is if any of those six individuals meet another untimely end, that footage of you ordering their deaths will go public. And make no mistake, it wouldn’t be the first time that I violated the directive in order to do the right thing,” Hastelloy concluded.
The President looked to his scientific advisor for a way out, but there was none to be found. In the end, the President shook his head and offered a handshake to seal the deal. “Well played, but your blatant disregard for the rules will get you in trouble one day.”
“I have little doubt of that,” Hastelloy replied as he shook the President’s hand.
Chapter 11: Last Words
“Thank you for your testimony Commander Gallono,” the magistrate said while typing some notes into his data pad. “Before these proceedings began, I read all of the action reports pertaining to the time your crew spent on Earth. In light of those reports I would also like to extend my gratitude for the long and distinguished service you gave under extremely difficult circumstances. Not the least of which was the requirement to follow questionable orders from your commanding officer.”
Origins: A Greater Good Page 6