by John Conroe
She paused and then nodded. “Partly. Partly because the rest of us have faster healing and are much less vulnerable, but yeah, I did and do think it prudent to safeguard you as much as possible.”
“You gave the blood away, Father. You should not give it away.”
“Yeah, well, that guy needed a shot at going home to his family,” Declan said.
“It’s called altruism, Omega and it’s the same instinct that drove your father to protect you,” I said.
“I understand, Chris. Some humans have it and some do not. But, Chris, remember—I am not human. You should now all take your seats. The captain is about to announce our descent to land.”
“Ah, this is the captain. We’re beginning our descent to Joint Base Andrews,” the pilot said almost as soon as Omega stopped talking.
I studied Declan, who was looking deep in thought. He glanced up and caught my eye. He was worried. I felt bad for injecting that concern into his relationship with Omega.
He must know of it. It’s too important, my vampire thought to me.
I nodded. Still not much fun to be the ones to point it out, I replied silently.
We all took our seats. I looked out the window on Tanya’s side, at the lights of Andrews. They stretched in all directions, and I had no doubt that Omega could shut them all off, along with all the radars, radios, and computers, in an instant. On the other side of the plane, Declan too was looking out his window, his right hand holding Stacia’s left. The wolf girl must have felt my glance because she turned, met my eyes, and gave me a nod while I tried to ignore the windspeed information, direction, temperature, and radar imagery along with a hundred other pieces of data that were suddenly flooding my brain.
Chapter 5
Six black government SUVs waited for us on the ground, along with thirteen Secret Service agents. One of the thirteen stepped forward as I came down the ramp alone.
“Mr. Gordon, I’m Special Agent Yuko with the Secret Service,” the squat, muscular agent said.
“I’m guessing you are part of President Polner’s Presidential Protection Division team,” I said, making it a statement rather than a question.
He froze, his face blank. “How do you know about the new president?” he asked suspiciously.
“We do watch the news, you know,” I said.
He frowned but nodded. “I head up the CAT team assigned to the president and I’ll advise you that we load both silver and depleted uranium rounds.”
My own frown formed and I felt Grim rise toward the surface.
“What’s a CAT team?” Tanya asked suddenly from the door of the plane.
“Counter Assault Team, ma’am,” Agent Yuko said, reluctantly dragging his eyes from mine only to almost instantly widen them.
I glanced up at her and realized that she hadn’t tried to camouflage her pregnancy with flowing clothes. She smiled at me and then turned that smile on the agent.
“So your team would step between the president to counter an attack and fight back?” she asked, coming down the stairs.
Yuko froze for a second, then slowly nodded before finding words. “Yes ma’am.”
“Very good then. Thank you for your service, Agent Yuko,” she said, then her eyes flicked beyond Yuko to another vehicle. I followed her line of sight and spotted Nathan Stewart climbing out of a car, his assistant, Adine Benally, right behind him. I didn’t have to look back at Tanya to feel her smile turn flat.
I don’t trust him at all any more, she said inside my head.
Same.
“Director Stewart,” Declan called out from the top of the stairs. He was holding hands with Stacia and frowning at Oracle’s Director.
“Hello Declan, Miss Reynolds,” Stewart said before turning to Tanya and me. “Chris, you look well. Tanya, you look, as they say, radiant. We had heard rumors.”
Tanya glanced back at Declan. He shrugged. “You guys visit Arcane. The students flip out if you change your lip gloss. You think they wouldn’t notice a belly bump?” Letting go of Stacia’s hand, the kid pulled an ASP collapsible baton from his spell bag with a huge chunk of what looked like yellow sidewalk chalk duct taped to the end of it. Extending out the sections of the baton, he started to draw a line on the pavement, walking an arc from the nose of the plane around the wingtip.
“We won’t have a repeat of last time, Nathan,” Tanya said, turning back to him.
“This is entirely different, Tanya. President Polner is a completely different man than President Garth,” Stewart said. “What, if I might ask, is he doing?” he asked, waving at Declan, who had now circled behind the tail of the plane and was headed back up to the other wingtip.
“He’s preparing. When I said there wouldn’t be a repeat of last time, I was stating a fact. We’ve made preparations, Nathan. Lots of preparations,” Tanya said.
“And the chalk circle… well, oval, around your plane does what?” Stewart asked.
Declan arrived back at the foot of the stairs just as Awasos, in wolf form, flowed down them, claws clicking on the metal steps. The kid waved the huge wolf through then closed his circle, kneeling down to touch the point where the lines intersected. He spoke a word, a spark of blue erupted at his fingertip, and the plane disappeared.
“Take that, Copperfield,” he said, standing up and turning around. “You should tell the folks here to avoid the chalk line, Director Stewart. It doesn’t like visitors.”
The agents, Yuko, Stewart, and Benally, all stood with mouths slightly agape. Hell, I was pretty impressed too. The whole 747 was just gone.
“We’re leaving some of our team here, Nathan. Sunrise and all that,” I said, pointing at the eastern horizon, where the sky was lightening rapidly toward dawn. “Declan has provided them some of his protection.”
“I’ve called some backup, sir, as well. This will hold up for pretty well, but a few hours from now, my…” Declan tilted his head as he considered a word, “… support team will be here. They will aggressively defend this plane.”
“Please, this isn’t the same at all. None of this is necessary,” Stewart said, hands out as if to placate us. “But I understand. Agent Yuko, please pass the word that this area is off-limits. But Declan, you don’t need whatever it is you’ve called, as we’ll be back most likely within the hour, or just over it. What did you call, by the way?” Stewart asked, naked curiosity on his face and in his voice. “The little dragon? The rock man? Is it a golem?”
“Been studying video, huh?” Declan asked, not answering the question.
“You know we have. You know how we investigate, Declan; you’ve had classes in it,” Stewart said. The kid nodded but didn’t say anything. Stewart watched him for a moment, then sighed. “Alright, Agent Yuko, let’s get going.”
A wave of emotion hit me. Hunger. I turned to look at Awasos just as Declan, Tanya, and Stacia did as well. He looked back at us with tongue lolling, almost grinning. Hunger. It came again.
“Ah, Nathan, we’ll need to swing by Mickey D’s or a Burger King or someplace and grab a bunch of breakfast sandwiches,” I said, not looking away from ‘Sos.
“For the love of God,” Agent Yuko whispered under his breath.
“You want to take a hungry wolf-bear…” I started, but Stacia’s stomach growled loudly and interrupted us. “… and werewolf into the White House without feeding them?” I asked the agent.
“Actually, I wouldn’t mind a couple of egg and sausage muffins either,” Declan said.
“So like, what? An even three dozen egg sandwiches?” I asked.
“Make it happen, Agent Yuko. Adine will probably want a couple too, eh my dear?” Stewart asked his assistant. She kept her face blank, simply nodding once. Were metabolisms are like clockwork.
Thirty-seven minutes later, we rolled past the grounds of the White House. The place was a zoo. Not every day that a president dies. Press, security agents, and administration staffers everywhere. Our cars drove by 1300 Pennsylvania Avenue and pulled into 1500—th
e Treasury Building. Yuko led us inside the quiet building, the time still too early for most of the workers to be there. We were releived of our cell phones and shown into a vault where we waited for ten minutes, cooling our heels. Maybe it was only five, but it felt longer. Yuko gave us a warning look and stepped away to deal with something.
“We okay with this situation?” I asked my team.
“It’s solid concrete with steel rebar and mesh in places,” Declan said. “I can mold it like Play Doh.”
“There are several SWAT teams in the building but even with silver munitions, they are within our capacity,” Tanya said.
“Omega has centipedes under the street. There’s an old railroad tunnel,” Declan added.
Stacia just nodded and Awasos yawned before lying down on the cool cement floor.
A few seconds later, Yuko came in through the slightly open vault door, looked us over, and then stood aside to let a stream of people in after him.
Chapter 6
There were at least seven other people that came into the vault, but the man who caught our attention was the newest President of the United States.
Lyndall Polner was a very successful politician from Ohio who was widely respected for his law credentials and work in the Senate. It was no secret that Garth had chosen him as a running mate to bring in the black vote, but Polner carried himself with a quiet dignity and calmness that won over people on both sides of the political aisle. Garth had used him as a mediator in political disputes and a bridging presence in social and racial turmoil, which Garth, himself, had not been skilled at.
Despite looking tired, President Polner wore his new responsibilities well, with a sense of gravitas and sadness.
“Welcome to Washington,” he greeted us, sharp brown eyes studying each of us in turn. “I realize your relationship with my predecessor wasn’t a positive one, but that’s something I hope to change. But let’s get you introduced. You know Nathan and his right arm, Adine. I’m told you’re well-acquainted with Tobias Creek. Over here is Michael Arnold, Director of the CIA. Charlie Knowles is Director of the NSA, and Tucker Tyson heads up the FBI. No relation to the chicken people, by the way. And last is White House Chief of Staff Jensen van Schneider. And we, of course, know who each of you are,” he said with a tight smile that caused Tanya’s eyebrow to twitch and Grim to go alert—more alert. I moved slightly, to give us each space, and it fully exposed Tanya to the room. Every man in the president’s Cabinet suddenly noticed her little round stomach, although Stewart and his assistant had already seen her that way at the airport.
“You are…” the president trailed off.
“Pregnant,” Tanya said simply. The implications of that one word made more than one face pale.
“We’re sorry to have to meet you under these circumstances, Mr. President, gentlemen, but why, exactly, are we here?” I asked, short-circuiting the whole Oh-My-God, They’re Reproducing moment. Outside the closed heavy vault door, I sensed men in boots and heavy gear lined up and ready. Declan was casually leaning against the rear wall, body in contact with Earth.
“Because although we won’t have the autopsy results back for hours yet, we’re fairly certain that President Garth was murdered,” Polner said, dragging his eyes from Tanya’s tummy back up to mine. A couple of his people looked pained at his admission. Point of fact, the CIA and FBI guys had looked less than pleased when they’d entered the vault. Creek had looked downright constipated—but then, Creek always looks constipated when I’m around. Knowles, the NSA guy, looked interested or maybe even eager.
“Our information was that he died of a heart attack while in bed with a young woman,” Tanya said. She was attacking them with our depth of knowledge, a tactic I had seen her use effectively before.
The president froze, eyes locked on my Tanya. Then he nodded, very slowly. “You are extraordinarily well informed, Miss Demidova. That could raise suspicions,” he said, pausing to look us over. “But not mine. I happen to know exactly why you are so well informed. In fact, that’s one of the main reasons we are meeting,” he said.
He looked around, lifting both hands to indicate the vault room around us. “I was just here, a short time ago. It was right after hearing the news. Right after being sworn in, right after being assigned the young man who stands outside this vault door with the nuclear codes handcuffed to his wrist. In this room, I learned that the Football, as some call it, is useless. I learned that I, the President of the United States, don’t control our launch codes—you all do.”
Declan shifted slightly by the wall, catching the president’s attention. “Yes, Mr. O’Carroll? Something to add?”
Declan shot me a questioning glance. I nodded.
“Your information was faulty, Mr. President,” he said, looking a little uncertain. No blame there. How many teenagers correct the President of the United States?
Polner raised both eyebrows in obvious question.
“Sir, a computer controls the launch codes. All of them—across the globe,” Declan said.
“Ah, good. Your Omega, correct?” the president asked, grinning at Declan’s surprise. The men around him were all focused on the kid like hawks.
“Correct. Omega controls the world’s nuclear devices,” Tanya said. “But I think your implication that Omega is ours needs clarification. He is ours in the way that we built him, but you are mistaken if you believe that we control him.”
“Him? I thought we spoke of a machine?” Polner asked.
“I used a male pronoun because Omega is a computer like you are a collection of living cells,” Tanya said.
“Nonsense,” Knowles the NSA guy interjected. “I know for a fact that Omega is housed at your Manhattan building. You control the building, you control the computer.”
Declan snorted.
Knowles turned in a flash. “What?” he demanded of our young intern.
Momentary surprise at Knowles’ response hardened into a frown. “To paraphrase Game of Thrones, you know nothing Mr. Knowles. In the moment of Omega’s birth, he expanded so far past any existing computer that any frame of reference we have to compare him to is useless.”
“This from the kid who is teetering on the edge of a B minus in computer science class,” Knowles said, pushing.
I saw anger flare on Declan’s face, but it was replaced by calculation. He nodded.
“I challenge you to pay attention to a class where the teacher not only declares computer sentience to be decades off, but feels compelled to insult any student who advances the theory that he might be wrong. But I think you already know that. In fact, Mr. Knowles, I think the most recent history on your NSA workstation is mostly about my grades and background,” Declan said. “Congratulations. You’ve figured out that I’m bored to tears with college. Omega is so far past any current computer theory that his reality isn’t something we can understand. Did you know that in the first few moments after he was born, he ate your Anvil program and shat out the remnants into his digital diaper? That by the time I regained consciousness, he had read every written piece of literature on the planet? We don’t control Omega, Mr. Knowles, any more than you control the temperature outside.”
Knowles took a breath, but Nathan Stewart interrupted him. “What did you do when the professor made fun of you, Declan?” he asked.
Declan pulled back a bit, surprised at the change of topic.
“Well, I didn’t hack the university’s firewall to provide a live feed from his bedroom computer webcam showing that the solar panel technician at his house was mounting more than just his roof. I didn’t fry the entire electronics package in his new BMW SUV. I thought about both but ended up just packing up my stuff to leave. Only a quarter of the class laughed at his joke anyway. The rest had been keeping up with current events, including my summer employment, which the youngest kid in the class did point out to the professor. But I haven’t been back since. Why?” our young witch asked.
“Because how you respond to these things i
s at least as important as any question that Charlie throws at you,” Stewart said. “In my opinion, your personal actions and examples are arguably the most important of any person in this room.”
“If you are implying that Omega continues to learn from Declan, both directly and from observation, you are absolutely correct,” I said. “Nobody controls Omega, but he does respond to requests, and Declan’s opinions carry the most weight.”
“So ask it to give us back the launch codes,” Knowles suggested.
“He won’t. He won’t allow EMP weapons either. Partially he doesn’t think humans should be allowed to blow ourselves up, but also, those weapons are a threat to his own existence,” Declan said.
“What if your life was threatened?” the CIA guy, Arnold, asked.