Alien in Chief

by Gini Koch

We didn’t talk about much otherwise, because going over the notes Raj had given us before we left kept us busy. As always, his notes on what to do and how to handle a variety of situations were top-notch and extremely detailed. Still had the bad feeling that we should have ensured we had a troubadour of some kind with us, but calling in some of our Troubadours in Reserve might have highlighted Serene’s clandestine operations, and I knew without asking we didn’t want that.

  Bruno snuggled up to me, and I realized my stress must have been obvious, at least to his Keen Animal Senses. I petted him and did my best to relax. No need to stress Jeff out any more than he probably already was.

  Rail Force One and its related Two were almost secrets. Even though everyone saw pictures of presidents on railcars, no one seemed to realize there were assigned trains just as there were assigned airplanes. And while Air Force One and Two housed at Andrews Air Force Base, the trains did not.

  The trains were leased to the government, and because of that, they weren’t held in any one place. When the President or Vice President needed to travel by rail, the cars were called back from wherever they were, and sent to the train station that made the most sense for the top officials to leave from, depending on where they were heading.

  Because we were heading south and weren’t going to be making any stumping stops in the D.C. area, we headed for the Arlington station.

  There were a variety of routes we could have chosen, which would have also affected where we boarded the train. If we’d been focused solely on getting down to Florida quickly, or if we’d needed these particular SUVs when we arrived, we’d have gone to Lorton and used the Auto Train route. But since campaign stumping was being included in the journey and we had more SUVs that would meet us coming from NASA Base, the Silver Meteor route was the big winner.

  Happily, despite how obvious we looked with something like a dozen giant black SUVs driving in formation, no one seemed to pay us any mind once we’d gotten away from Embassy Row. Uneventful trips were rarities for us, but we never complained about them.

  We parked in a small secured parking section that I doubted anyone who wasn’t high up in the government even knew existed, and then were hustled down to the loading area. I let Bruno fly on over on his own.

  “Wow,” Vance said when we reached the platform. “It’s damned impressive from the outside.”

  I laughed. “Just wait until you see the inside. There are reasons I love the train.”

  CHAPTER 32

  RAIL FORCE ONE was normally six cars long, not counting the engine and the caboose. With Rail Force Two added on we had thirteen. Chose not to think of this as an unlucky fact.

  “Thirteen cars,” Tim said. “Not good.” Many heads nodded. Though apparently I was the only one trying to not think of it as unlucky.

  “Is it too late to add another car?” Joseph asked. When the head of a Secret Service detail asks about the dangers of the number thirteen, you have to consider just how widespread that superstition is.

  “Consider it a lucky number for gamblers,” Chuckie, the Voice of No Superstitions Allowed, said. “And let’s get rolling.”

  Mom nodded her agreement, and everyone else stopped whining. At least out loud. I was pretty sure some were still whining on the inside.

  After the engine, there was a car for Secret Service and other personnel, then the President’s car, the War Room car, the Private Dining Car for the executive families and anyone else they felt like eating with, then the Vice President’s car, another Secret Service and other personnel car, followed by two guest cars, the General Dining Car, yet another guest car, a last car for Secret Service and related personnel, and finally the caboose. All the cars were rather sleek, painted white with a pretty blue that matched my suit. Go me, color coordinating with our transportation.

  “If you don’t count the engine, it’s twelve cars,” I said to Joseph as we headed for the official Rail Force Two car, or Car Number 6.

  “It’s important to count the engine. And if you note, the engine is Car Number One.”

  “Just trying to help.”

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” Joseph muttered under his breath. Chose not to tell him that this just showed he was aware of how our luck rolled, mostly because I didn’t think he’d appreciate it.

  The Secret Service and our A-C agents fanned out, two to a person, to get everyone onto the train, into the right cars, and otherwise organized. Besides Joseph, Rob, Evalyne, and Phoebe, Buchanan, Len, and Kyle were with us, though because they were part of our protection detail they didn’t drag along extra Secret Service agents.

  Though the agents would be sleeping in the nearest personnel car down, Buchanan and the boys would be sleeping in Rail Force Two with us. Which would put a major crimp in my plans to do the deed on the train, but I was confident I could find a workaround. My plan had a shot of succeeding, since at least Mom was sleeping in Rail Force One, and there was no way I could do a workaround if she was in the car with us—the soundproofing was nowhere near good enough.

  The interior of the cars was extremely plush, kind of like a rolling luxury hotel. Lots of rich woods, brass fixtures, and an air of understated opulence. The Presidential Seal was the overriding motif, and there was a reliance on a lot of red, white, and blue, too, in terms of decorations, but it was worth it.

  The President’s and VP’s private cars were similar—sleeping areas near the front, with a private room for the POTUS or the VPOTUS, living room/lounge/dining table, kitchen near the back, a small double bunk for the steward and porter, with two bathrooms, one for the sleeping quarters, one for the rest.

  The dining cars were typical in that on one side there were tables that seated four and on the other the tables only seated two. The kitchens in each of these cars took up less than a quarter of the car, but it was amazing what came out of them. I couldn’t have made anything decent in them, but the stewards and porters insisted that the kitchens were set up for maximum efficiency and I wasn’t going to argue with them. I could smell food being prepared already, and my mouth started watering.

  The guest cars were typically nice sleepers, with a small lounge and seating area in addition to the sleeping bunks. The cars for personnel were similar, with less niceties and a lot more easy access to everyone they needed to protect and care for.

  The War Room car was just that—a car filled with a long conference table, comfy chairs, and all the electronic bells and whistles that allowed the President to stay in touch with everyone he might need to. It had a smaller kitchen, if such could be believed, and a small lounge in it as well, to keep everyone fed and hydrated.

  The caboose was one of my favorite cars, in part because this was where all the PR took place. Whenever the stumping was going on, as it would be, frequently, on this journey, the caboose was where the President and whoever else stood, entered and exited, and so forth. Ergo, the caboose was also decorated more than any of the other cars, mostly with American flags and some Armstrong-Martini posters.

  The interior of the caboose reminded me of newsrooms in the movies—lots of electronics, lots of people frantically working, writing position papers, altering speeches, and so forth. The Press Secretary and, when he was with us, Raj, tended to spend most of their time here when not in the War Room.

  Ariel Hillel was Armstrong’s Press Secretary. He was a nice guy around our age. I didn’t interact with him all that much, but I knew that Raj liked him and vice versa.

  “Where’s Raj?” Ariel asked me with a sniffle as he joined us in our car, trailed by his requisite two Secret Service agents. It was a credit to the car’s design that having twelve people in here didn’t make it feel crowded. “I’ve been looking for him.”

  “You crying because he’s not here?” I asked.

  “No. The President has a cold and I’ve caught it, I guess.”

  “Ugh, condolences, and please d
on’t share that around.”

  We brought him up to speed on why Raj and others weren’t with us. Ariel didn’t look happy. He also didn’t look like he felt all that great.

  “I realize why he stayed home, but we’re going to get hit with the same questions while on this trip, and none of you are prepared with answers. And while your answers can and should match the President’s, you’re going to be asked different questions than he is.”

  “Do you want us to call him in?” Jeff asked. “He can get here in less than five minutes.”

  “I’m not sure. I thought you were bringing Oliver along, too.”

  “He stayed home for the same reason as Raj,” I shared.

  Ariel grimaced. “I wonder if that was their plan all along.”

  “Welcome to Team Megalomaniac. Yeah, that’s what we’re thinking. But everyone felt that we needed Raj at home.”

  “Let me discuss it with the President,” Ariel said, as he bustled off, his agents trailing him.

  Before Jeff and I could discuss this, our steward came in. “Good to have you back,” he said with a beaming smile. Happily, he didn’t look like he’d caught the Presidential Cold yet.

  “Javier, always great to see you.” Jeff gave him a hearty handshake.

  “Even better to smell your cooking,” I said as I gave him a big hug.

  Javier did quadruple duty—he was the steward, porter, chef, and waiter. It was nice for us because it meant only one extra person in the car, and he said he both enjoyed all the duties and made more money because of them, so it was a win-win all the way around. The President had his own All-In-One dude, too.

  Javier laughed. “It’s always my pleasure when you two are taking the train. I went over menus with Raj last night.” He looked around. “Where is he?”

  “That’s the question of the hour.” Time to fill Javier in on what was going on, which we did.

  He looked worried once we were done. “So, Raj, Mister Joel Oliver, and Missus Dwyer all aren’t here? I’m not going to try tell you guys policy, but it really seems like your enemies wanted to be sure some of your key personnel weren’t around.”

  Had to think for a moment who he meant, then realized that Mrs. Dwyer was Serene. “Well, we have other key personnel still with us, so we should be okay.”

  “And for all we know, Ariel is going to ask us to have Raj come anyway,” Jeff added.

  “And the kids aren’t along?” Javier asked, this time looking disappointed.

  “No, they stayed home. Under the circumstances it seemed wiser.” At least per Denise, and who was I to argue?

  “Well, it won’t be as fun without them, but that means I’ll have even more time to pamper the two of you.”

  “You’re my favorite, just sayin’.”

  Javier laughed. “Glad to be of service. Truly. I’ll get your things unpacked.” He nodded to Len and Kyle. “You two want to do the standard observations?”

  “Yes, sir,” Len said.

  Javier grinned. “You know she likes us all informal.”

  “I say it again, Javier is my favorite.”

  “I’ll get jealous later,” Jeff said. “We need to make sure everyone else is settled and check in with Vince.”

  Joseph had his head slightly cocked, which he did when he was listening to his earpiece in a non-stress situation. He nodded. “The President wants everyone to meet in the War Room once they’re settled in and their porters are handling their luggage.”

  “You want us in there before or after the train leaves the station?” Jeff asked.

  Joseph relayed the question. “The President says he defers to what the Ambassador thinks.”

  “Wow. Vince is totally my favorite. Um, I honestly think I want to defer that decision to Malcolm, though.”

  Buchanan chuckled while everyone other than Javier shot surreptitious glares at him. “It’s nice to be appreciated, Missus Chief. She’d prefer to ask her mother,” he said to Jeff, “but since I’m here, I’m the best stand-in.”

  “Traitor.” Buchanan knew me far too well, apparently. My phone beeped and I took a look. “Apparently Raj is on his way. With, huh, Mister Joel Oliver in tow.”

  No sooner had I finished speaking than Raj and MJO appeared. Several people jumped, but fortunately no one drew weapons. MJO also had Ginger in his arms.

  “Why is that cat here?” Jeff asked, earning a snide look from Ginger, who leaped out of MJO’s arms into mine.

  “She wanted to come,” Raj said. “Insisted really. It was bring her or risk her clawing up the entire Embassy.”

  “Good call then.” Hey, I liked to be supportive. Besides, Ginger was great to roll with and would give me an extra snuggle buddy if Jeff was stumping and I was napping, which I hoped to have happen somewhere along the line.

  “Thanks, and sorry we’re late,” Raj said. “We decided that Serene, Kevin, and Bruce Jenkins would handle things at the Embassy and Mister Joel Oliver and I would do what we’d planned to on the train.”

  “Hopefully thwarting what our enemies wanted.” Put Ginger down next to Bruno, who de-cloaked, presumably so that he, too, could make people jump. They nuzzled each other in a form of Animal High Five. “So, Malcolm, back to you.”

  “Get these two settled,” he indicated Raj and MJO, not Ginger and Bruno, “then have all the Secret Service and A-C agents check in with me. Once we know everyone’s in place, then the train starts off. Once we’re rolling, then everyone key goes to the War Room.”

  “Why do you want to wait?” Jeff asked.

  Buchanan shrugged. “Because I don’t trust anyone. Not even the people here.”

  CHAPTER 33

  “IT’S ONE OF your better qualities, yeah,” I said as Jeff glared at him. “And Jeff, he’s protecting us, let’s remember.”

  I took for granted that Buchanan didn’t trust me and Jeff, but not in a traitorous way. He didn’t trust us to behave and follow his or anyone else’s orders. Rightly.

  “I am. That I’m not trusting should not be a surprise to anyone, you in particular, Mister Chief. And I want to make sure that everyone we want is on board and no one we don’t is removed before we start off.”

  Evalyne tapped on her phone. “I’ve asked Manfred to take an A-C team and search all the cars once everyone’s checked in.”

  “Good.” Buchanan looked at Len and Kyle. “You two take these two,” he jerked his head at Raj and MJO, “to their cars and hand them off to their protection details.”

  The boys nodded, everyone linked hands, and then Raj kicked up the hyperspeed and they disappeared.

  “So, do we think that this circumvents whatever our enemies wanted?” I asked the room in general.

  “Too early to tell,” Buchanan replied. “But I’m sure we’ll find out. Sooner as opposed to later.”

  Our Secret Service people spent a lot of time talking and tapping, then Len and Kyle returned to our car, the confirmation that the A-Cs had done a triple search—including scanning for all the things we routinely scanned for—came through, and the go signal was finally given.

  There were enough seats for all of us in our car to sit comfortably, which we did, Ginger and Bruno at my feet. There were no windows in the President’s car, ours, or the War Room car for security reasons, so we didn’t get to watch as we pulled out of the station. That was the downside. The upside was that Javier brought everyone delicious fruit drinks that were refreshing and didn’t even make you miss the alcohol that wasn’t in them. He also had a nice cheese plate ready. And some water and food for the animals, too, because he was just that kind of awesome.

  So we sipped and munched while the train worked up speed. Once the cheese plate and our glasses were emptied, Joseph declared us underway enough to head for the War Room.

  Told the animals to stay put, which they did by flying and leaping onto our
bed and snuggling down for a nap.

  Walking on the train was always interesting because even the smoothest ride was still somewhat bumpy, though the only real issues were the changes between cars. However, from what I’d been told, the couplings between cars were a lot closer together than they’d been in the old days, so there was less risk of falling off.

  Still, Jeff kept a firm hold on me, and I kept a firm hold on my purse and the duffel bag I hadn’t let Javier put away. Had to figure that if Algar had specifically given the duffel to me, then I should keep it nearby.

  To get to the War Room car we had to walk through the dining car that was for us and the President and whomever else we might grace with the joys of eating with us and taking bets on how often I spilled what on myself.

  I stopped to say hi to and get hugs from Isaiah, who was the chef for Rail Force One and had been for several decades now, Brandon, his apprentice, who was much younger and had only been working with Isaiah for five years, and Eleanor, who was the pastry chef and considered quite the phenom, since she’d been on Rail Force One since she graduated from culinary school.

  Also got to greet and hug Nathan, the headwaiter, and Lincoln, the other waiter for the car. They’d both been working for the Office of the President for twenty years.

  Greetings to some of my favorite people who made riding the train the awesome experience that it was over, I allowed myself to be dragged into the War Room, in part because everyone else on the train who wasn’t with the President and First Lady were coming up behind us and I was clogging the transit artery.

  Fortunately the War Room was set up to have a lot of people present, because we did, and I for one wasn’t willing to stand in an impressive manner, especially since the Secret Service and A-C Field teams had all the good standing places claimed already. Frankly, if our enemies wanted to take us out, all they’d have to do was hit this one car.

  “We shouldn’t all be in here together,” Chuckie muttered as he sat down next to me.

  “Dude, I was thinking the same thing,” I whispered back.