by Gini Koch
Hochberg nodded. “And this allows America and American Centaurion to lead the way. A win-win.”
“Or a lose-lose when things go wrong.” Chuckie said.
“Charles, is right now the time to be negative?” Hochberg asked.
“He’s right and it is.” I’d spent most of our lives defending Chuckie, and even though we were in top-level positions now, I still ended up doing it far more often than not. “Things are going to go wrong. They always do. We need to be prepared for that and plan for that. And before anyone tries to give the optimistic arguments I can see forming, I’d like to go on record that I told you all that the flag thing was going to be an issue. I was ignored and overruled. Note that the American Centaurion flag is now an issue. Meaning, don’t ignore me, or the smartest guy in the room, when we tell you that we’d better be prepared for anything and everything to backfire right into our faces.”
Okay, so, so much for the mindset of not saying “told you so.” Apparently, some in the room needed the reminder.
“Charles and Kitty are both right,” Elaine said. “And I, for one, feel that while we want to work for the best, we’d damn well better be prepared for the worst.”
“I agree with the naysayers,” Jeff said. “And not just because my wife told me to.” This earned a laugh that definitely reduced the tension in the room. Jeff was just so good at leading. “In my experience, we never get to have things go the easy way. However, I’m definitely of the opinion that we’d better work for what we want. And I think world peace, if it’s possible, would be in our best interests. And I still have no idea what you mean about Starship Troopers.”
“In its simplest form, humanity joins together to fight alien bugs.”
Jeff shook his head. “We don’t want to start a galactic war.”
Heard a snort behind me. “You’re already in one.” This was from Malcolm Buchanan. He was built a lot like Jeff—big, broad, and handsome, though he had straight brown hair and blue eyes. Despite being a human, he also had Dr. Strange powers—if he didn’t want you to see him, you didn’t see him. As always, I’d forgotten he was in the room until he’d spoken.
“But we don’t want to be,” Elaine said.
“What we want and what we get are two very different things,” Buchanan said. Rightly.
“Well, we’ve got a lot of people who want to be prepared for it,” Tim said. “And we need to determine how they’re going to enlist and how we’re going to organize that division.”
“Keeping in mind that by our telling the world that the latest attack on us was instigated by the Z’porrah pretty much means that we’re saying they’re our enemies and we need to be prepared. Which, in case the rest of you have forgotten Operation Destruction, they are and we do. I’m not willing to let them come back to destroy our world or steal my children or anyone else’s.”
Serene nodded. “Frankly, this enthusiasm is what we want. If we can get enlistments from all the countries in the world, then every one of them has a reason to care.”
“Having skin in the game helps,” Chuckie said. “However, losing someone in battle means that all that goodwill and cohesiveness can turn around in an instant.”
“We’re going to lose against the Z’porrah if we’re not prepared,” Raj said. “And by ‘we’ I mean our solar system and the Alpha Centauri system.” Heads around the room nodded, particularly those from the Planetary Council.
“Is arming for war really what we want to show the world and the greater galactic community?” Jeff asked.
“That depends on what you expect to find outside of your solar systems.” This comment came from Rudolph “John” Wruck, aka an Ancient and the only survivor from LaRue’s attack on her own crew decades prior. During Operation Epidemic I’d discovered that Wruck wasn’t actually a Yates progeny, as we’d first suspected, but rather someone going deep undercover on his own to try to stop LaRue and her allies. I’d turned Wruck to our side, and even though he hadn’t been with us all that long, there wasn’t a minute where we weren’t glad to have him.
“What do you mean, John?” Jeff asked.
Wruck shook his head. “I mean that here, on Earth, the goal of a cohesive human community is a good one. To have humans and any aliens living on Earth be cohesive is also something to work for. However, you need to understand that part of why all of these,” he nodded toward the Planetary Council, “want your help isn’t because they want to lead you toward peace. They aren’t giving you interstellar flight to be friendly. They’re doing it because they want you to lead them into war.”
The room went still, and now all heads turned toward the Planetary Council. Specifically, toward Alexander, titular emperor of Alpha Centauri, definite king of Alpha Four, and Jeff and Christopher’s cousin.
Alexander stood slowly. “I will not deny this, because it’s true. Events have repeatedly shown that we must work together to repel the biggest threat to all of our worlds. Information received from elsewhere in the galaxy confirms this need—either you are with the Z’porrah or you are against them. Neutrality is not recommended, because if the Aligned Worlds leave you alone, you become an easy target for Z’porrah to conquer.”
“So, people wanting to enlist with Centaurion Division is a good thing,” Tim said cheerfully. “Meaning we’re back to my original point—we need to figure out how to handle this, who’s in charge of it, and how we ensure that we can register people from other nations into it.”
Chuckie and I looked at each other. “In other words,” I said slowly, “we actually need to create the War Division.”
CHAPTER 4
“I’D SAY I CAN’T BELIEVE IT,” Chuckie said dryly, “only I can, I really can.” He shook his head. “And the worst of it is—we need this.”
“Why are you two so upset?” Jeff asked us. “I may have my blocks up, but I can read both of you really clearly right now.”
“Well, it’s just the irony we’re having difficulties with, Jeff.”
“What irony, baby? Seriously, all I’m getting is that you’re both resigned and upset. I’m just not sure why.”
Heaved a sigh. “Probably because of all that’s gone on in the last six weeks. But, to explain, I’ve literally spent my entire career with Centaurion doing my best to keep you guys from becoming the War Division. Prior to Operation Madhouse, Chuckie was the Head of the CIA’s E-T Division, and he risked his life over and over again to also keep the A-Cs from becoming the War Division. And now, here we were, about to gleefully become just that.”
“I wouldn’t say we’re gleeful,” White said. “However, while we A-Cs are pacifistic at our cores, frankly, humans are not. And, clearly, the Z’porrah are not, either.”
“They are not,” Jareen, my Reptilian Soul Sister said. She was here with the Planetary Council representing her planet, Beta 13, and, due to all the crazy that had been going on since the Council had arrived, we’d had almost no time to just hang out and catch up. Wasn’t sure if she was as bitter about that as I was, but I kind of figured she was. “First they attacked Earth, and then they attacked the entire Alpha Centauri system. This will not end, unless or until we end it.”
“If it’s been going on as long as you’re all indicating, it’s unlikely we’re going to end anything,” Chuckie pointed out. “However, we do have experience with never-ending war on this planet.”
“Plenty,” Mom said dryly. “Which is probably helpful.”
King Benny cleared his throat. “I believe Richard has misspoken slightly.” He was a giant walking otter from Beta Eight and one of the new official leaders of that planet. And he was probably the cutest thing we had on Earth right now. But, he was also a warrior. He bowed his head toward White. “Some of those on Alpha Four are pacifistic, just as those here are somewhat pacifistic. However, the former rulers of that planet were quite willing to be ruthless.”
“He has a poi
nt,” McMillan said. “And, frankly, while Centaurion has always tried to find the non-lethal way of dealing with issues, we’d all be dead already if you hadn’t been fighting superbeings with deadly force and intent.”
“So, if the need is enough and the monster is bad enough, you guys will fight. And, frankly, keeping our planets, let alone our galaxy, free of Z’porrah rule is a pretty big need.” And if I was honest with myself, while the A-Cs were thinkers and creators, they were also very good at being warriors as well.
Jeff sighed. “Good points all. I think the difference is that we’re making this choice willingly, as opposed to being forced to fight for an ideology or a leader we don’t agree with.”
“Does everyone agree with us, though?” Reader asked. “I mean, there’s no way we’re going to get a hundred percent of Americans, let alone anyone else on Earth, to agree with us. But do we feel that we’re representing the majority, or even a large minority?”
Tim rolled his eyes. “Raj, could you turn on the TV screens?”
Raj pressed some buttons on the super-duper remote he controlled when we were in here. The curtains over the windows automatically closed and the screens jumped to life. Some had regular programming. But several had news reports. All of them showing a great number of people holding signs that said, “Let Us Fight,” “Stop The Evil Aliens,” and similar sentiments.
“Gosh, it’s just like a Club Fifty-One rally, only with positive statements. Assuming the evil aliens they’re talking about aren’t, for once, all of the A-Cs.”
“Some of those people are Club Fifty-One,” Tim said. “Their schism has been very good for us. The majority of them are now pro our aliens and, based on today, getting more and more pro aliens on our side all the time.”
“The rest are more virulently anti, of course,” Chuckie added. “And we need look no further than Harvey Gutermuth and Farley Pecker for who will be leading the charge against this.”
Gutermuth had taken over as the head of Club 51 after we’d taken out its first leader, Howard Taft, during Operation Drug Addict. Due to the schism, Gutermuth was now the head of Club 51 True Believers, which was what the remaining anti-alien Club 51 loons had become.
“Well, we should never expect the head of the Church of Hate and Intolerance to ever promote any kind of togetherness.” Between Pecker and Gutermuth I wasn’t sure who I despised more, though Gutermuth was far more politically sneaky than Pecker. They’d both served time for attempting to blow us up at the end of Operation Infiltration, but they’d both gotten out early for supposedly good behavior—though intel had shown it was because they’d both bought their way out—and were back at their respective hate-filled posts. We were lucky that way.
“I think we need to be sure that we’re also representing the majority of the A-Cs,” Doreen said. I was going to chime in and agree, but the communications system came on. “Excuse me, Mister President.”
“Yes, Walter?” Jeff asked. Walter Ward had been our Head of Security at the Embassy and was now doing the same at the White House. His older brother, William, was in charge of all Security worldwide, and based out of the Dulce Science Center. Walter was dedicated, eager, and a slave to titles.
“Is the First Lady with you?”
Jeff shot me a What The Hell look. Shrugged. I had no idea what was going on, either. “I’m here, Walter, what’s up?”
“We have an incoming message.”
“Okay,” Jeff said. “From whom?”
“Ah . . . I’m not entirely sure, Mister President, sir.” Walter sounded confused and worried. This probably boded.
“Walt, do you have any guesses?”
“Not really, Chief First Lady.” He sounded evasive.
“Walt, I think you have a really good guess that you’re afraid to share with the room. Am I right?”
“Yes.” While Walter was still in his mid-twenties, he was incredibly competent and dedicated to his job. He also wasn’t normally this coy. Something was up in a big way.
Jeff’s mouth was opening, presumably to tell Walter to spill the beans. Put up the paw. Jeff’s mouth slammed shut. Amazing. I’d been testing out my Talk To The Hand gesture, and prior to my being made the First Lady it had had no real effect. The moment I became the FLOTUS, though, the paw had power. It was always nice to have something, anything, in the win column.
“Walter, who would you feel better sharing this particular communication with?”
There was a pause. “Only you, Chief First Lady.”
More mouths opened. Put the paw right back up. Mouths slammed shut. It wasn’t the coolest power, but it was one I apparently had in spades, so I was keeping it. “I’ll be right there, Walter. Is it okay if Malcolm comes with me?” Asked because I knew without asking that Buchanan was going to come with me whether Walter wanted him there or not.
“Yes.” The com went dead.
“What the hell?” Jeff asked the room in general and me in particular.
“Do you think we’re infiltrated?” Chuckie asked, before I could reply. “Because this doesn’t seem like Walter but it does seem suspicious.”
“It does seem suspicious, but I don’t think Walter would willingly or knowingly ask me to walk into a trap. I think he’s completely unsure of the correct protocol for whatever situation he thinks he or we are in and is, therefore, asking for the one person he knows doesn’t give a crap about protocol at all.”
“I agree,” Buchanan said. He drew back my chair and helped me up. Jeff glared at him but it was only about a three on his jealousy scale, or, as I thought of it, Jeff’s base reaction to any man doing anything with me that Jeff felt he should be the one doing. “If we’re infiltrated, we’ll let you know.”
“How?” Chuckie asked flatly.
“I’ll run through the White House complex screaming.”
“Sure you will,” Jeff said, sarcasm knob at about eight on the one-to-ten scale. “But fine, we’ll carry on with Tim’s news here, you find out what the hell’s going on with Walter.”
Buchanan and I headed off. Wruck and Siler followed us. I chose not to complain about this. Instead, I decided to ask Team Tough Guys a pertinent question. “Any guesses?”
“Many,” Siler said. “Too many to waste the breath, since we’ll find out soon enough.”
“I assume that you three don’t think this is as benign as I do.”
“I assume there is no immediate threat,” Wruck said. “But Walter sounded very stressed, meaning a threat is coming. Potentially.”
“Anytime someone only wants you, Missus Executive Chief, it means that something’s going down and they want the person most likely to come up with the best plan of attack or retreat to weigh in first.”
“Wow, Malcolm, when did you add sucking up to your repertoire? I don’t mind, but it’s kind of a surprise.”
Buchanan chuckled. “There are people who are more loyal to you than to anyone else, even Mister Executive Chief.”
“Three of them are with you right now,” Siler added dryly.
“I’m all kinds of flattered. And I’m sure you feel that Walter’s one of those.”
“You’re the reason he went from handling gate transfers at the Dulce Science Center to two of the top Security positions Centaurion has,” Buchanan pointed out. “You’re the reason his brother has the topmost Security position. Yes, he’s loyal to you, first, and the rest of Centaurion’s core teams second.”
“Same with his brother,” Siler added. “Frankly, if you ever leave your husband it will cause a schism as dramatic as the one Club Fifty-One’s gone through.”
“Not that I’m planning to leave Jeff.”
“Right now,” Buchanan said with a laugh. “It was a near thing though.”
“True.” I’d been really mad at Jeff during Operation Madhouse, after all. Him allowing warheads to be aimed at the ship I
was in had that effect on me. Not to mention him making deals with terrorists. And him buying the idea that I was big in the helpless victim department. Decided I should stop thinking about this because it still had the potential to piss me off, even though I understood what had driven all those bad decisions. “But it was all a big misunderstanding.”
“Keep in mind that misunderstandings like that can and do happen all the time,” Siler said. “And when they happen on international and galactic stages, they can have far longer-lasting ramifications than a familial spat.”
“Or,” Wruck said, “they can have exactly the same ramifications.”
CHAPTER 5
“MIND EXPLAINING THAT, JOHN?” I asked as we wandered the White House Complex. I sucked at mazes, and while the White House wasn’t that bad on the maze scale, we hadn’t been here all that long and we’d been hella busy our short time here, so I still tended to get lost and wander into the wrong room more often than not.
“The Ancients and the Z’porrah weren’t always enemies.”
This news was so shocking that the rest of us literally stopped in our tracks. “Come again?” I asked when I could find my voice.
“Tens of thousands of years ago, we were friends. Our races are two of the oldest in the galaxy, and we were encouraged by races even older than us to go forth and help the younger races. Originally, the Ancients and the Z’porrah worked together to uplift various species.”
“Any we know of?” Siler asked.
Wruck shook his head. “Our galaxy is teeming with life, and all of these were far closer to the Core. Over time, though, arguments happened. There’s no clear answer for why we became bitter enemies—each side has their own story, but experience has taught me that the true answer lies somewhere in the middle.”
“That’s why there are so many Ancients who are Z’porrah spies, isn’t it?” I asked. “The relationship goes back far enough that, to some Ancients, whatever the Z’porrah think is right.”
