by D F Capps
And above that? Andrews asked.
A coordinator trustee, she replied.
Andrews turned to Charlie.
So the whole government is a series of trustees?
Charlie nodded. All the way to the top.
And who picks the trustees? Andrews wanted to know.
The people, Charlie replied. When you know other people telepathically, you know their character, their wishes, and their inner desires. You know who you can trust the most. Those are the people who are selected as trustees. If a trustee isn’t doing a good job the people pick someone else.
Higher level trustees? Andrews asked.
Are picked by the lower level trustees and approved by the people. Once a trustee is selected, that person will spend some time visiting as many people as he or she can during the evaluation period.
Which is? Andrews questioned.
It depends, Charlie replied. For a local trustee, about a week; for coordinators, a month. That gives people a chance to get to know the trustee. Then at an appointed time the people either approve the trustee or disapprove. Trustees are specifically trained to do their jobs.
What happens to trustees who are disapproved? Andrews asked.
I don’t know, Charlie responded. They haven’t had a trustee disapproved in their lifetime.
Do you have a president? Martha asked.
Yes, Charlie responded. She is the most trusted person on the planet.
Martha smiled and looked at her husband.
How long does the evaluation period last for a president? Andrews asked.
That takes a full year, Charlie replied.
What about personal relationships? Do you have marriages? What about divorces? Martha asked.
In your world it takes years to really get to know another person, Charlie explained. During that time many people get married and start a family, only to find that the other person isn’t who they thought they were.
Martha turned to the woman. What about you?
The woman smiled. Yes, I’m with someone. It took me a long time to find someone who was completely compatible with me and had that special spark and chemistry I wanted. But it was all worth the effort. He’s perfect for me. I’m very happy.
Can we meet your president? Andrews asked.
As I explained, I’ve never met our supreme trustee, so you’ll have to wait until I can get you to Tau Ceti.
Andrews and Martha opened their eyes.
“So everyone knows each other’s inner thoughts and desires?” Martha asked. “Even the most personal of desires?”
Charlie nodded. “I know it sounds embarrassing, but it’s actually very practical. Everybody simply accepts that range of desires as just being a normal part of our nature. The people of Tau Ceti are open and honest with each other. Everything is there to be seen from the beginning. There’s a huge difference between friends and personal partners.”
Chapter 32
“Next.”
Senator Stevens stepped forward to the security officer in the White House.
“ID.”
He listened to the officer’s thoughts as he presented his senate identification card. His eight p.m. appointment had been arranged three days ago and he was on the secured list, so nothing raised any suspicion. He stepped into the sophisticated body scanner and raised his arms. As the scanning ring swung around in front of him, a brief blast of air swept over him. He smiled to himself. They’re checking for weapons and explosive residue, he thought. They just lack the technology to test for the most powerful weapon of all: the telepathic mind.
Stevens stepped out of the scanner and slowly made his way to the elevator that would take him down to the underground labyrinth of halls and rooms that formed the bunker. He rode the elevator down with two security guards and one other visitor. Their thoughts were scattered and rambling. The extended time of heightened alert since the attempted assassination of President Andrews had worn them down. Their minds were dull and their bodies were near exhaustion. Rosaq had picked the perfect time.
He followed the security escort down a long hall, sensing the number of people and their placement in various rooms. Members of the president’s personal military unit drifted through the hall, watchful, but unaware of the presence of any danger. He took note of the uniform color pattern and the color-coded patch of the day. Simple, but effective security measures so they could quickly identify invading soldiers as different from their own unit.
Stevens connected telepathically with Assault Commander Gerard and shared the details of the uniform and security color patch.
* * *
“This uniform and the red and white color patch,” Gerard shouted. “Go, go, go!”
The seventy-five mercenary soldiers waiting in their underwear sprang into action. Gerard swiftly put his uniform on and stuck the hook-and-eye color patch into place.
“Color patch is red to your heart, white to your right. Let’s go people!”
His mercenaries donned their combat vests, helmets, and ran for the back of the armored personnel carriers. The outside of the vehicles were painted in the standard Marine Corp camo pattern to slow down any reaction from bystanders. The six vehicles raced up the ramps and out onto 22nd Street, turning left onto H Street.
The White House was only ninety seconds away.
* * *
Senator Stevens waited in the conference room for President Andrews to arrive. Gerard and the mercenaries were on their way. He checked his watch. Just over a minute remained before the assault on the White House would commence. He sensed Andrews walking down the hall in his direction with two secret service agents. He smiled. Two agents meant two weapons. There was no reason to try to sneak a weapon into the bunker. They already had more than enough to accomplish his task, compliments of the secret service agents.
The door opened.
“Senator Stevens,” Andrews said, extending his hand.
“Mr. President,” Stevens replied, shaking his hand. “As chairman of the Senate Judiciary Committee I wanted to, first of all, extend a heartfelt apology to you for the impeachment proceedings last month, but most of all . . .”
Stevens looked at the door. He sensed an agent walking in the hall intent on seeing Andrews. He was running out of time. He took two steps back and concentrated on freezing Andrews’s mind, then the minds of the two agents in the room. Under his mind control each agent drew his weapon and aimed at Andrews’s head. The agents were resisting pulling the trigger, so Stevens concentrated harder.
The door opened and the head of the secret service protection detail, Agent James, entered.
Stevens glanced at James, which momentarily broke his control over Andrews.
James saw the weapons and started to draw his own gun.
Andrews scrambled back, throwing a chair at the agents aiming at him. One agent spun and fired at James, hitting him in the shoulder. The other agent fired at Andrews—his shot hit the flying chair. He fired a second time, hitting Andrews in the chest. The second agent stepped forward and aimed at Andrews’s head.
Blood spattered across Stevens’s face as a pink mist filled the air to his left. He glanced at the doorway again. One of the president’s military unit had just fired an M16 rifle, hitting the closest agent to the president in the head. Stevens focused on the soldier in the doorway, freezing his mind, while directing the remaining agent to shoot the soldier.
The sound of gunfire drew every agent and soldier in the immediate area to the conference room. Stevens raised his arms, held his hands high in the air, and backed away from the remaining agent. He directed the agent to shoot Andrews again, only to be interrupted by another soldier in the doorway. The agent and the soldier exchanged fire, both of whom were wounded in the exchange. Two more soldiers rushed into the room.
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” Stevens shouted. “I don’t have any weapons! I’m Senator Stevens. I just came here to talk with the president.”
The two soldiers with r
ifles motioned Stevens to back over to the wall. He complied, reading the thoughts of the soldiers. They wouldn’t shoot unless he gave them a reason to do so. One soldier called over his radio, “Eagle is down. Eagle is down in the main conference room!”
“Hands against the wall! Legs spread!” the other soldier shouted.
Stevens did as he was directed. One soldier frisked him thoroughly and placed him in plastic cuffs while the other one kept his rifle pointed at him. A third soldier rushed over to Andrews and checked for a pulse.
“He’s still alive. Medic!”
The soldier aiming at Stevens stuck the barrel of his rifle in the center of Stevens’s chest.
“What happened?”
Stevens glanced around the room. In a few seconds the assault team would arrive at the doors of the White House. Chaos would reign, controlled and directed by his telepathic mind in the bunker, and Gerard’s mind above. He needed to finish setting the stage for the final battle.
“I just came here to talk with President Andrews. The two secret service agents with the president pulled their guns and aimed at Andrews. Another agent opened the door and everybody started shooting. The president’s own men shot him. They tried to kill him!”
Stevens became aware of more agents rushing down the hall, followed by more soldiers.
“Who shot first?”
The soldier pressed the rifle barrel harder into his chest, forcing him to breathe shallowly and rapidly.
“One of the agents next to the president. I don’t know which one. It all happened so fast.”
The soldier pressed harder into Stevens’s chest. “What happened next?”
Stevens grimaced in pain. “You came in. That’s all I know.”
The soldier backed off, leaving him alone. Stevens focused his mind on the soldier, giving him the words he wanted him to say.
“Agents are trying to kill the president. Keep all agents away!”
The two soldiers in the doorway turned to the hall.
“Halt! Freeze right where you are!”
Stevens sensed the secret service agents were already running to the room, guns drawn.
“Drop your weapons!” the soldier yelled.
Stevens concentrated on the agents, getting them to raise their guns and aim at the soldiers. Shots rang out and then automatic weapons fire filled the hall.
* * *
“It looks like a pig with a parachute,” Pedder said. He studied the new thing the Seabees had built.
“It is, kind of,” Lieutenant Chambers said. The vehicle had three wheels, a huge rectangular parachute attached to a harness, and an airplane propeller mounted on the back end. The radio control package and camera on the front certainly looked like a snout. “It’ll fly by remote control—not too high, and not very fast—but we can guide it into the entrance of the cave that the Zeta Greys are using as a way into their underground base.”
Pedder nodded. “What’s it supposed to do?”
“It’s a variation on a fuel-air weapon.”
Pedder grinned. He knew how effective the weapon was.
“I’ll let you know when we’re in position.”
* * *
Martha Andrews spun at the sound of gunfire, panic filling her heart. Derrick, the secret service agent assigned to her, drew his weapon and spoke calmly into the microphone clipped to the cuff of his shirt sleeve. He listened and then turned to her.
“Ma’am, the bunker is under attack. The corridors are not secure. We have to wait here.”
Martha began breathing rapidly. “My husband, is he all right?”
Derrick closed the door. “As far as I know, yes, he’s all right.” He looked around the room.
Martha followed his gaze. It was essentially a sitting room with bookshelves. “What are you looking for?”
“Some place where you can hide,” Derrick said.
Martha felt her eyes grow wide. There was no place to hide!
Derrick walked over to a small reading desk and turned it on its back, swiveling the top of the desk to face the door. “Get down behind this. It’s not much but it’s better than nothing.”
Her heart was pounding wildly. “What are you going to hide behind?”
Derrick shook his head. “I have to guard the door. Besides, if they shoot at me, I don’t want you to be in the same line of fire. Just stay behind the desk.”
She got down on all fours and crouched behind the small desk, closed her eyes, and started to pray for her husband, herself, and Derrick.
* * *
Gerard focused his mind on the White House guards, clouding their thoughts, freezing them into inaction, as the six armored personnel carriers roared off Pennsylvania Avenue and into the White House drive. Assault Leader Simon Gruber, perched in the top hatch of the vehicle, shot each guard they encountered standing at his post.
Gerard could use his mind to control a maximum of twenty people at a time. He focused on the security officers inside the main entrance to the White House and the West Wing. He projected the image that the soldiers were reinforcements coming to help. His men piled out of the back of the armored vehicles and rushed into the buildings, shooting everyone they saw. He continued to use his mind to slow people’s reactions down and cloud their minds as his men shot their way deeper into the building.
* * *
Stevens was led at gunpoint out of the conference room. As he passed the wounded agent lying in the doorway, he probed the agent’s mind for the password of the day. Ophelia. The soldier led him down the corridor and back to the elevator. Dead and wounded soldiers lay on the floor in small groups. A dozen bodies of secret service agents, mutilated by automatic gunfire, were being shoved to the side of the hall. Before they reached the elevator, word came down that the ground floor was under heavy attack. The soldier guided Stevens into a small room.
“Stay in here. Don’t come out until we come for you.”
Stevens nodded. The soldier closed and locked the door. Stevens was still bound in plastic cuffs, but that didn’t impair his mind. He walked over and sat in the padded chair behind a small desk. It wouldn’t take long now. He tuned into the thoughts of the soldiers in the hall. The elevator was already at the bunker level, so the soldier in command stepped inside and pulled on the emergency stop button that controlled the elevator. It wouldn’t leave the bunker level until the button was reset. One man was left to guard the elevator.
Stevens closed his eyes and followed the soldiers in the halls and rooms of the bunker system in his mind. Through their eyes he learned the complete layout of the bunker.
* * *
Master Sergeant Jimmy Peters pulled Agent James to his feet.
“Why did you try to shoot the president?”
James cringed from the pain in his shoulder.
“I didn’t,” James said. “When I entered the room, both agents were aiming at Andrews. I drew my weapon, but one of them shot me first.”
Peters pushed James against the door jamb.
“Why did they want to shoot Andrews?”
James looked over at the two dead agents on the floor.
“I don’t know. But I’d love the opportunity to ask them.”
Peters looked at the dead agents and scoffed. “Like that’s going to happen.” He picked up James’s weapon and tucked it into a pocket of his vest. Peters held James firmly by his uninjured arm and led him down the hall. “You’re going to have a lot of questions to answer, but right now we have to get you and Andrews to the safe room.”
* * *
Stevens grinned. The plan was going well. He connected with Gerard telepathically, giving him the secret service password of the day, the layout of the bunker, and the location of the safe room where Andrews would be.
We’ll be at the elevator in twenty seconds, Gerard replied.
Stevens concentrated on the three agents in the security room and clouded their minds so they wouldn’t recognize the elevator in motion. Then he focused on the guard at t
he elevator, taking control of his mind. He guided the guard into the elevator and had him reset the emergency stop button and select the ground floor.
Elevator on its way, Stevens reported. One enemy occupant under control. He stood and walked over to the door, turned his back, and unlocked the door. I’m in the first room to the left as you come out of the elevator.
We’re in, Gerard replied. See you in ten seconds.
Stevens scanned the hall with his mind. Three soldiers were still in the conference room. Command station, now, he impressed on their minds. He sensed the soldiers leave and head deeper into the bunker. Hall is clear, Stevens reported.
Elevator capacity is twenty, Gerard replied. We’ll need to make three trips.
Stevens opened the door to the hall. The elevator door opened and he motioned the mercenaries into the room. The elevator returned to the ground floor. Gerard cut the plastic cuffs off Stevens’s wrists. Stevens rubbed his wrists as he and Gerard used their telepathic powers to cloud the minds of the soldiers in the bunker and block any awareness of the elevator operating.
* * *
Master Sergeant Peters left Agent James in the safe room and walked into the security office. The three agents sat still, eyes glazed over, facing the security monitors. He glanced at the screen and frowned. Soldiers dressed in the proper uniform and color patch walked out of the elevator and into the first room.
“What the hell?” He grabbed his radio. “Who authorized the elevator?”
There was a short pause before the radio crackled back, “No authorization. Elevator is secure.”
He looked at the agents still immobilized in their seats. “Hey!”
The agents stirred and looked up at him. He pointed to the screen with soldiers moving into the room. The agents looked shocked and one of them pushed the alarm button.
The piercing sound of the alarm echoed through the halls. Peters yelled into his radio, “Do we have another unit coming in?”
