The Trojan Horse

by Christopher Nuttall

  He waited patiently for the agents to search him and then check his ID, even though they knew him by sight. The Secret Service was trained to be paranoid, even if some of the scenarios they ran through seemed uncomfortably like something out of a thriller novel. Toby privately doubted that anyone could disguise themselves to look like a politician and walk into the White House unopposed, but who knew what the aliens could do? And besides, they could turn people into traitors. They might try to slip one of their pod people into the White House.

  The agents waved him through and he stepped into the Oval Office. As he had expected, Jeannette McGreevy sat behind the President’s desk, listening with a cocked head to the report from the FBI Director. Toby was mildly surprised that he hadn’t been replaced by one of the pod people – there were several in the FBI – but maybe McGreevy had thought better of allowing someone touched by the aliens into such a high position. Or perhaps she hadn’t got around to mass dismissals and putting her own people into power. She had a wide network of contacts and clients she could promote as she pleased now she was President. They would all be expecting some reward for their loyalty.

  “Ah, Mr Sanderson,” McGreevy said. She sounded surprisingly affable for someone who’d only reached her position through chance – or had the aliens triggered the heart attack themselves? “Take a seat, please. I’ll deal with you after I deal with this.”

  The FBI Director looked uncomfortable. He had been involved in the resistance after it had started to take on shape, but now his position was in doubt. The Deputy Director was one of McGreevy’s clients. And besides, the FBI was heavily involved in tracking down militia groups and arresting them. It wasn't making them popular outside the big cities. A number of federal agents had been shot dead under mysterious circumstances, while others had been killed storming houses belonging to suspected militia members. There were too many people out there who thought that they had nothing left to lose. None of them expected a fair trial from the government.

  “I’m afraid the news isn’t good,” he admitted, finally. “We were already seeing the beginnings of a vast protest movement against the unwarranted searches, seizures and arrests when the aliens hit Tehran. No matter how we try to swing it, the aliens committed mass murder…”

  “Against Iran,” McGreevy snarled. “The one country we hate above all others.”

  “The fact remains that the aliens launched a disproportionate response,” the FBI Director said. His expression, if it were possible, grew even more uncomfortable. “That isn’t the main problem. We’re not going after a few isolated nuts. The people on the targeting list aren’t cultists hiding away in barns, but often popular and well-liked people in their communities, people no one believes had anything to do with the incident at the school. Local police and sheriffs have started to refuse to get involved with the raids and I think that a number of them have quietly tipped off our targets that we’re coming for them. A number of BATF agents walked into a trap and were slaughtered.”

  He looked down at the table, trying to avoid the woman behind it. “And the photographs and videos from the raids don’t help,” he added. “Everyone has a cell phone with a camera these days and they’re putting the images online. Americans are seeing jack-booted stormtroopers kicking down the door and dragging Americans off without trial. We might be able to justify such force against a handful of criminals, or terrorists, but so far we have targeted and rounded up thousands of people. The country won’t stand for it.”

  McGreevy leaned forward. “The country will have to stand for it,” she said, shortly. “Don’t they understand how important this is?”

  “I think that Congress might disagree,” the FBI Director said. “I have already had a number of very icy inquiries from certain congressmen. Their constituents are not happy.” He hesitated and plunged on. “We arrested a number of people on very shaky legal ground. Worse, a number of people have died, often for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. This isn’t Soviet Russia, Madam President; there will be a reaction against us if this carries on.”

  “I don’t care about legalities,” McGreevy said. “I care about ensuring that we are fit to join the Galactic Federation.”

  The FBI Director smiled. “This would be the same Galactic Federation that just wiped Tehran off the map?” He asked. “How many people died in that strike?”

  “They retaliated against the Iranians for failing to protect their people,” McGreevy said. Toby, who had half-expected her to dismiss the death toll as merely Iranians, was almost impressed with her switch, or her ability to turn a tragedy into an advantage. “I will not take the risk of this country going the same way, no matter how many legal niceties get broken in the process.”

  “Then I am afraid that you will have to do it without me,” the FBI Director said. “My spies in Congress tell me that there are already measures afoot to impeach you. You may end up being the President with the shortest term of office ever.”

  McGreevy opened her mouth, and then caught herself. “Be very certain about this,” she said. “Are you offering your resignation and refusing to do your job properly?”

  “The duty of the FBI is to stop crime, terrorism and enemy spying within America’s borders,” the FBI Director said. “It is no part of our duties to shoot down innocent civilians, even civilians who may have a slight connection to Blake Coleman. We have an agreement with our population, Madam President; we agree to work within the law and using due process to catch criminals and they allow us to work without interference. If we break that unspoken agreement, we can expect them to start pushing back. This is not Russia. Right now, there are places where I wouldn’t send federal agents unless they were very heavily armed…”

  “With illegal weapons,” McGreevy snapped. “I’ve been telling people for years that these nuts are dangerous.”

  “I think you will discover that you and your followers did a great deal to make them dangerous,” the FBI Director said. “You’ll have my resignation on your desk within the hour. I’d wish you luck, but quite frankly the best thing you could do right now is resign and allow someone a little less close to the Galactics into the Presidency. I don’t know why they’re here either, yet I’d be astonished if they have our own good in mind.”

  With that, he stalked out of the door, leaving McGreevy and Toby behind. Toby kept his face expressionless, even though he was deeply shocked – and worried. If the FBI Director quit – no, he had quit – the remainder of the FBI would fall under the control of one of McGreevy’s clients. And then she would have a formidable weapon at her disposal. True, many other agents would resign rather than turn into jackbooted thugs, but far too many would remain inside. Toby had long suspected that some of them were silently aroused by the chance to play at being a far harsher service than the FBI had ever been, intruding into the lives of the nation’s citizens and intervening at will. They’d get their chance now.

  “Sanderson,” McGreevy said. She sounded as if she was holding herself under very tight control. “You no longer have a place with the former President. You can come and work with me, now, or you can get out.”

  Toby didn’t hesitate. He’d expected the offer, although he hadn’t expected it to be so blunt. “Yes, Madam President,” he said. “I would be happy to work under you.”

  “And keep your job,” McGreevy said, dryly. If she was aware of the double meaning, she didn’t bother to show any sign of it. “Are you going to give me as much service as you gave your previous master?”

  The odd stress on master was mocking, Toby knew. “If that is what you command, I will be happy to serve,” Toby said. The resistance needed him, he reminded himself. He would have loved to quit, but he had the feeling that he wouldn’t have been allowed out of the building without permission. “What can I do for you, Madam President?”

  “You will sit in on a number of meetings,” McGreevy said. “Once you have heard them all, you will give me your advice. Great things are going to happen in t
his country and I intend to ensure that they happen sooner, rather than later.”

  ***

  Toby still felt filthy an hour later, when the Cabinet filed into the room to discuss the situation with the new President. McGreevy’s old post as Secretary of State had been filled by one of her creatures, as had two other posts, both resigned in disgust after the attack on Iran. Toby was sure that McGreevy would be able to portray both men as betraying her, or being reluctant to serve under a female President, or whatever other charges could be used to blacken their names. They wouldn’t be allowed to rock the boat too much…he remembered the dead reporters and shivered. The chances were that the deserters were already being targeted for elimination.

  He took a seat in the corner and listened carefully, without saying anything. McGreevy didn’t seem inclined to replace the Directors of either the CIA or the NSA, which was lucky as both men were involved in the resistance. Without them, it would be much harder to coordinate action against the aliens and a federal government that was being increasingly subverted by the aliens. The situation appeared to be the same in the rest of the First World states, while chaos was sweeping across the Middle East after Tehran had been struck. There was fighting in Palestine, civil war in Iraq and unrest in Saudi Arabia. Toby was tempted to believe that the aliens had planned everything; the sudden oil shortages forced the United States and the rest of the First World into becoming more dependent on fusion, hence strengthening the Galactic Federation’s position. But they hadn’t known that an American assassin was going into Iran, had they? They were powerful, yet he was sure they were not gods.

  “Madam President,” Barney Koch said. He was the replacement FBI Director, although Congress hadn’t confirmed him yet – and might never confirm him, depending on what happened in the impeachment proceedings. “I regret to report that we have encountered considerable difficulties in implementing the anti-militia program.”

  Toby smiled, inwardly. Militias generally didn’t keep membership lists, which left the FBI dependent upon inserted agents and following up family trees. Anyone who had ever got into trouble with the government on illegal weapons charges was regarded as a potential militia member – and therefore their families were targeted for arrest. Sometimes it worked, but many of the people who’d been rounded up were innocents – and some of them chose to go down fighting rather than surrender to the government thugs. And if that wasn't bad enough, local police were reluctant to get involved, often pointing out that the targets were actually decent people. The State Governments were feeling the heat from the media, but they were also feeling the heat from their own people – careers were at stake.

  “Then call in the army and declare martial law,” McGreevy snapped. “I want this problem uprooted before it’s too late.”

  General Williamson, the new Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, scowled. “I regret to say that we have been having considerable difficulties of our own,” he said. “The pullout of the Middle East has been delayed as our units are coming under fire from rioting citizens in the region. Back home, thousands of soldiers have been discharged – including thousands of soldiers who happen to have family and friends targeted by your purge. I’m afraid that what remains of the military is not suitable for deployment as a police force.”

  McGreevy purpled, alarmingly. “Are you refusing an order from your Commander-in-Chief?”

  “I am pointing out that we do not have the tools to carry out your demands,” General Williamson said. “The military is not in a good state right now. I’m telling you that if you issue orders to join what is effectively a thoroughly illegal purge of American citizens, you will have a mutiny on your hands. The soldiers have friends and family who have been targeted by your purge. They are not happy. I have already had reports that a number of units have simply deserted. I suspect that the remainder of the military will soon follow.”

  “Then we will call on the Galactic Federation for help,” McGreevy said.

  “That will simply cause the mutiny to happen faster,” General Williamson said. “Look, Madam President, the general perception right now is that Washington is doing the bidding of the aliens and hunting down innocent American citizens. If you put alien soldiers into the mix, there will be an explosion.”

  “We cannot afford to allow the aliens to suspect the worst of us,” McGreevy said. “They have offered to help us. I think we shall accept.”

  On that note, the meeting ended.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Wanderer, Near Norfolk

  USA, Day 56

  “You’re clean,” the NSA officer said. “You can go inside.”

  Toby nodded as the sealed door opened, allowing him access to the interior of the prison ship. Coming out here had been a risk, but McGreevy had ordered him to inspect the various CIA and NSA facilities after she’d invited the Galactic Federation to send ‘peacekeepers’ down to Earth. The reports Toby had received suggested that the aliens had landed at most military bases, taking over with or without human permission. As General Williamson had predicted, there had been a number of clashes between human and alien military units, resulting in an alarming number of soldiers defecting from the federal government. The entire country was coming apart at the seams.

  Silence descended as the sealed door banged closed behind him. The interior of Wanderer was cool, almost antiseptic, although Toby knew what happened within the ship’s cavernous holds. Terrorists, the ones who organised and plotted the missions that sent foolish young men out to die, were brought to the ship and systematically interrogated until they had spilled all they knew. Once they were drained of everything they knew, they were executed and their bodies were cremated, before being dumped overboard. There would be no burial ground to serve as a shine for fundamentalist groups. The terrorist leaders would simply vanish.

  ”Right this way, sir,” a voice said. Toby looked up to see a man dressed in a plain seaman’s outfit. Wanderer was no USN vessel. Ideally, she would pass muster as a tramp freighter, one of hundreds that piled the world’s oceans. The crew were all CIA officers, committed to blowing up the ship, along with her prisoners, if she were to be boarded by an unfriendly power. “They’re ready for you.”

  The upper levels of Wanderer were designed for defectors, people who didn’t need rigorous interrogation before they spilled everything they knew. Toby was escorted into a metal room, decorated in a style that might be described as American office. It was easy to forget that he was on a ship, even though he could feel a faint motion underneath his feet. The alien sitting at one end of the room, half-reclining on an alien-designed chair, dominated everything. There was no mistaking his inhuman origin. Toby felt his skin crawl as he met the alien’s bright red eyes. He’d seen nothing to alter his first impression. The Snakes were predators.

  “Coffee, sir?”

  Toby glanced back at the young steward. “Yes, please,” he said. The two interrogators looked up at him from where they were sitting. They’d reported, not without some reluctance, that the alien had insisted on talking to one of humanity’s leaders. Toby would have taken the risk of removing the alien bugs from the President’s body and asking him to listen to the alien defector, but McGreevy couldn’t be trusted. She might be willing to listen, yet he doubted she would risk her new power base by turning against the aliens. “I understand that you wanted to talk to someone in authority?”

  The alien leaned forward, drawing in a raspy breath. “Do they believe I am dead?”

  Toby almost flinched at the alien’s voice. It couldn’t be easy speaking English through an alien mouth, one designed more for hissing than shaping human words. The aliens used technology to translate their words, but it had become apparent that the devices were also a way to monitor their activities on Earth. Toby was starting to suspect that the alien society was totalitarian in nature, rather than the democratic Galactic Federation they’d been promised. The aliens acted more like Russian KGB agents overseeing the Soviet Union’s sports t
eams rather than friendly visitors. There was a good chance that they’d monitored the defector until the explosion.

  “They have not pressed the matter,” Toby said. The aliens had sent a shuttle to the scene of the explosion, thankfully after the submarine had escaped. As the Coast Guard had watched, they’d flown over the area several times and then withdrawn back to orbit. Toby suspected that they believed that their explosive implant – like the one that had detonated in Iran – had obliterated the body beyond any hope of recovery. They certainly hadn’t seemed inclined to drop a rock on New York to remind the human race of their power.