The Tau Ceti Agenda

similar donations. The rigors and expense of campaigns required that a serious candidate accept pretty much any donation he got. Moore knew that he had been no different than any other candidate in that regard. Receiving campaign funds from Seppy sympathizers wasn't illegal, and it was nonsensical and circumstantial evidence that would go nowhere. But if they could falsely tie that in with the leaked classified documents it might be enough to impeach him. No, what was really enough to impeach him was the fact that the House and Senate were a large majority Dem and Indy, and they wanted the White House back. That, the politics, truly was the end of the story there. But Alexander knew that he had not leaked those documents or ordered them leaked. It just didn't make sense to him. Hell, if he were going to do something like hand over the system to Elle Ahmi and her fanatical Separatists, there seemed to be better ways than just leaking documents to the press. No, he was being setup— framed—and he was going to, by God, put a stop to it.

Who has the most to gain?

Follow the money, sir. Who funded Amaka Chi's campaigns? Digging there might be a good place to start.

Congresswoman Amaka Chi sure was getting a lot of face time with the public now that she had come out with the smoking gun against Moore. She had gained the most as far as he could surmise.

Could it be that simple? the president thought. Is this just a bunch of smoke and mirrors to create a windfall of publicity for a practically unknown congresswoman? The president considered the possibility as he stared out the window at the south lawn. It had only been luck as far as he could tell that Chi had gotten onto the Tau Ceti Commission. In fact, she was the most junior member of the commission, yet she somehow managed to end up as the spokeswoman. Maybe, she was sent to call me out because of the very fact that she is the junior member and has nothing to lose. If things turned bad for her attack, the DNC could just shrug it off as an attack by a junior member that didn't know better. Hmmm.

Occam's razor might lead one to think that, Mr. President. But, it also might lead to election posturing. The money trail should help make this clearer. Are Mrs. Chi's strings being pulled by anybody else?

Get to work on that, Abigail. Moore scratched his chin, unsure of what exactly to do next. He needed to take action. But what action?

He would get to the bottom of the situation. After all, he was still the president of the United States of America, and he had called in some favors. An investigation into the complete membership of the Tau Ceti Commission was being conducted—an investigation that nobody in the public knew about—and soon he would have some answers.

Mr. President, Captain Adam 'HeeHaw' Elliot and Lieutenant Delilah 'Jawbone' Strong are here for your five o'clock. They are the two Marine mecha pilots from Orlando, sir.

Right, send them in, Abigail.

Chapter 26

November 1, 2388 AD

Oort Cloud

Sunday, 1:35 PM, Earth Eastern Standard Time

'We've got nine more!' Lieutenant Junior Grade Seri 'Vulcan' Cobbs shouted as the ramp to her SH-102 Starhawk dropped to the deck of the hangar. The search and rescue pilot waved at the hangar deck medics as they rushed up the ramp to transport the wounded. 'Move it, two of them are critical.'

Seri turned back into the transport, grabbing the end of a gurney rack and popping the switch to release it from the electromagnetic gripper. The gurney gripper light went from red to green and snapped open, dropping gently to the deck and extending the wheels as it hit. Seri tapped the console monitor at the head of the thing to make certain that it was still working correctly under its own power. The very weak vitals of the wounded pilot continued to graph across the screen in reds, yellows, and greens. Only a few of them were in the green.

'I've got this one, ma'am,' the Navy corpsman nodded and grabbed the handles of the gurney and ran with it down the ramp and to the triage area at the end of the Madira's largest hangar deck.

Three of the wounded pilots were missing arms and were able to walk themselves down the ramp with some help from deck crew. They were led to the staging area for the noncritical casualties. The remaining four were stable but couldn't walk either because their legs were gone or broken, or they were paralyzed or unconscious. Seri pulled the other critical patient from the rack. She popped the gripper, and the gurney slid down from the rack release. She tried not to grimace at the sight of the mangled pilot. Her left arm was missing, including the shoulder. There was a gaping hole in her left side, and she was missng most of her right leg. There were other tears throughout her g-suit that had sealed off. There was no telling how much damage the poor pilot had sustained. And it had taken the SARs more than a day to get to her. Seri had been flying for thirty hours straight, collecting wounded from the most critical to the least in the order prioritized by the SAR logistics AICs. It was just nothing short of a miracle that this woman was still alive. A miracle.

'Poser? You still with me, girl?' She shined a flashlight at the pilot's face.

'I'm here, Vulcan,' Poser replied so faintly that she could barely hear her.

Seri checked the 'goodie bag' sitting on Poser's chest and noted that the pilot had already absorbed more than half a liter of the trauma cocktail in her IV. Poser had been as near death as a human could get when Vulcan had found her floating almost lifelessly in space; the trauma cocktail was beginning to improve her vitals. But from the scanners, Seri could tell that Poser's liver was damaged, and she was missing her kidneys, most of a lung, and some of her digestive tract. The bones and muscle tissue could be easily repaired if the doctors could fix the missing vital parts. She would have been given up for dead just a few decades prior, but medical technology continued to improve, and apparently Poser had a will to live, because her heart kept on beating.

Had it not been for the immunoboost that her suit had administered, she would have first bled to death, then she would be in serious trouble from septic issues. But her suit organogel and the drugs had done their jobs as well as could be expected. Her abdomen had been flooded with the psuedogel from the organogel layer until it filled the wounds from the massive trauma of the enemy cannon rounds, sealing off the arteries. Her wound was right on the edge of being too large for the seal layer to compensate for, but it had.

'You hold on, Wendy. The docs will fix you up.' She pushed her along the deck, waving away another corpsman who offered to take her. Vulcan knew Wendy as a friend and wanted to make sure some emergency room waiting