by Rick Partlow
“Grant wasn’t the best President the United States ever had, but he was the man the country needed to pull it together when it was coming apart.”
McKay eyed her suspiciously. “Ms. Sanchez, you are sounding less like a journalist trying to get my story and more like an activist trying to become the story.”
She smiled sadly, pacing over to the statue and running a finger over the carved granite. “General, I’ve been reporting on politics for over thirty years. You’d think by now I’d be jaded, cynical…but what I am, more than anything else, is just fucking furious. All the time. My people think I’m just cranky, a perfectionist; but the real reason is, I’m just so damned angry. People get elected making promises to change things, but nothing ever changes.” She shook her head. “Valerie O’Keefe is a wonderful woman: brave, compassionate, tough. If you don’t run, she’ll probably win.”
“Val would make a great President,” McKay said earnestly.
“No, she won’t,” Sanchez declared flatly. “Because when it comes down to cases, she’s a politician. It’s what she was raised to be, it’s how she reacts to situations. I know what happened, General. I know she wanted to cover everything up and Captain Franks forced her hand and put it all on the indie nets.” She poked a finger into his chest, surprising him.
“Think about that for a moment, McKay!” she said angrily. “Franks is a fucking spy and he had more of an instinct to tell the truth than a politician!” She let her hand fall, but the expression on her face stayed fierce. “She wants to help people, she wants to clean things up…but more than anything else, she wants to maintain the status quo.”
“You’re willing to risk a military junta just to shake up the status quo?” His eyebrow rose in surprise.
“If it were anyone else, I’d say no,” Sanchez admitted. “But you already proved we can trust you…with those four fusion warheads you mentioned. You don’t want a military dictatorship, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
McKay looked up at the stars again. So clean up there…so uncomplicated.
“I’d have to resign my commission,” he said softly, sadly. “I’ve never done anything else.”
“You’ll do it, then?” There was a flicker of hope in Sanchez’ voice and suddenly McKay felt guilty.
“I’ll look into it,” he told her. “No promises yet, but I’ll look into it.”
She surprised him then by leaning up and kissing him on the cheek. When she drew back, he could see her cheeks were red with embarrassment.
“Remember that you’ll always have a friend in my office, General,” she told him, then hurried off towards where she’d landed her flitter, not far from his groundcar.
He watched as the flitter’s door swung shut and the ducted fans spun back up to speed with a hum of electric motors. It only took a minute before the vehicle was airborne, describing a lazy arc back towards the City. The little aircraft was out of sight when the passenger’s side door of his groundcar opened and Shannon Stark stepped out, dressed in civilian clothes as he was. They looked better on her, though, he thought with a smile.
She leaned into him and he slipped an arm around her, reveling in the warmth of her. He’d come so close to losing her…not just this time, either. He only wished he could have killed Ayrock himself, after learning what the bastard had done to her.
“Do you think she’ll figure out she’s being played?” McKay wondered, feeling guilty again.
“Maybe,” Shannon said, shrugging. “But she’ll be getting what she wants…and this way, it’s a better story. ‘Reluctant war hero drafted into the Presidential race’ sounds better with the public than ‘pissed off General decides to set the federal government straight.’ Plays better with the people who want to make you into George Washington.”
“Jesus,” he muttered, shaking his head ruefully. “You’re more of a politician than I’ll ever be; you should be the one running.”
“They wouldn’t elect me,” Shannon declared with no sign of regret in her green-eyed gaze. “I’ve got my hands too dirty over the years. That was my job, to do the dirty work so you could stay clean.” She chuckled, patting his chest affectionately. “Actually, that’ll still be my job as your chief of staff.”
“I’ve been in more fights than I can count,” McKay said uncertainly, “but I gotta admit, honey…this whole thing scares the shit out of me. What if I fuck up?”
“Fuck up worse than the last three administrations? Jason, we’ve been over this. Our whole civilization is on the edge of transforming into something bigger and stranger than before.” She waved a hand at the ocean of stars above them. “We’re going to be expanding even faster now that the raiders and the Protectorate are no longer a threat, and that’s going to make the old guard in the Senate and the Multicorps paranoid as hell. Who else would you trust to run things at the moment?”
“Valerie,” he replied, his tone a bit sullen.
“But she doesn’t trust herself,” Shannon reminded him. “Remember, this was her idea.”
He nodded. Sanchez’s objections to a Valerie O’Keefe presidency were the same ones that Valerie herself had raised when they were discussing the situation weeks ago.
“And anyway, you’ll always have her as an ally,” Shannon continued. “After what happened, she’s going to wind up the most powerful legislator in the Senate.”
“You really think Franks can handle taking over Fleet Intelligence? I mean, he’s just a Captain…well, Major now.”
“He has more time in as an officer than you did when you took it over.” Shannon poked him in the side playfully. “You didn’t do so bad, did you? And once Tanya Manning finishes Officer’s Candidate School, well…I’m sure the Intelligence Service will continue to have a close working relationship with Special Operations, if you know what I mean.” She laughed, something she seemed to be doing more as the prospect of leaving the military behind drew closer.
“All right,” he said after considering it for a few moments. “No more doubts. But I do have a condition.”
“And what might that be, Mr. McKay?” Shannon asked, curiosity in the tilt of her head.
“Now that no one will be shooting at us…”
“…you hope,” she interjected, but he ignored it.
“…we’re going to have kids,” he finished firmly. “And at least one of them has to be a boy.” He felt a tightness in his chest but managed to keep the catch in his throat from making it to his voice. “Vinnie wanted us to name one after him, and I’d hate to hang that on a girl. And I know I’m going to sound old-fashioned, but I want to get married first.” He shrugged. “It’s how my parents did it, and politically speaking, it won’t hurt to look a bit old-fashioned and respectable.”
“Is that a marriage proposal or a political one?” Shannon asked, cocking an eyebrow dubiously.
“Shannon Marie Stark,” Jason said with formal gravity, holding her out at arm’s length and looking her in the eye, “will you marry me?”
“It’s a deal,” she agreed, trying to hold back a grin as she stuck out a hand for him to shake.
He ignored it, pulling her into a kiss instead, and giving it some serious attention. After a little while, it didn’t seem so cold anymore.
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