The Tau Ceti Agenda

'Some light reading, baby?'

'Uh, no. I'm just educating myself on all the mecha that I've seen.' Deanna set the book down and looked up at her father. 'Dad?'

'What, baby?'

'I'm not a baby, Dad.'

'I know, princess. But you'll always be my baby.' Moore smiled.

'Uh, Dad.' Dee frowned at him the way kids do when they reach that age where they don't want to be called a baby.

'What do you need? Are you okay?

'Oh, sure. I wanted to ask you about the future. Do you think you will win the election?'

'It looks like it. Is that what's bothering you?'

'No. I was just wanting to tell you that I want to be like you when I grow up.' Dee looked up at him seriously.

'Oh? You think you want to be president of the United States?' he asked her proudly.

'No, Dad. Yuck, politics is gross.' Dee made a sour face.

'Then I don't understand what you mean.' Alexander shrugged his shoulders, holding his hands palms-up.

'I want to be a marine.'

'Well, what do you expect?' Sehera looked at Alexander. 'She has watched you running around in e-suits fighting off tanks with your bare hands since she was really little. You're her hero.'

'Yeah?' Alexander's chest swelled a bit.

'Yeah. And mine too.' Sehera leaned against him and the two of them sank into the couch under the weight of their lives. 'You never did tell me what Hardin gave you.'

'Oh that,' Moore laughed. 'You'll never believe this, but our clever Mrs. Amaka Chi was making deals with some DOE scientists to leak information to the public in a way that she could use to set me up. She thought of it all by herself, too.'

'Really?'

'Of course not. Several of the DNC and the Indies were in on it, and the Tau Ceti Commission was nothing but a bunch of witch hunters, bound and determined to find a witch. And when they didn't find one, well, they manufactured one.'

'How did Hardin know this?' Sehera raised an eyebrow, more interested in the story now.

'He was part of it,' Alexander replied.

'Why'd he help out, then?'

'He says it's for a trade on some earmarks in his district, big earmarks. But you know that can't be all.' Moore frowned and hugged his wife to him closer.

'Yeah. He's a puppet. He's working some greater plan angle that he has no idea about. It's his master that has the agenda.'

'Which reminds me, I have a meeting in the Oval Office in thirty minutes.' Those meetings in the Oval Office in the middle of the night were the ones he never liked.

'Good luck.' Sehera kissed him slowly while hugging him tight to her. 'Watch your back.'

'Right.' Moore sighed and sat quietly holding his wife for the next few minutes and trying not to think about anything in particular. That was hard to do.

Alexander closed the door behind him and then toggled the switch to lower the blinds on the other side of the office. He locked the door's manual bolt and then keyed the electronic lock.

Abigail, sweep the room for transmitters.

We're clean, sir.

Set up the jamming fields.

They're on. Nobody will be eavesdropping on you.

Good. Unlock my desk.

Yes, sir. Abigail transmitted the encrypted symbol sequence to unlock the president's desk. A faint click and turning of a mechanism could be heard, and then the middle drawer of his desk slid open about a centimeter.

Alexander sat down at his desk, plopping tiredly into his chair. The legs of the chair barked against the floor, as his weight pushed it backward. He reached to the lower right-hand drawer of his desk and slid it open. He pulled out two glasses and a bottle of Maker's Mark that he kept there for certain stressful occasions. This was one of those. He filled one of the tumblers about three fingers deep and then swigged hard at the liquor.

Then he reached back into the drawer and pulled out a small lockbox. Abigail cycled the lock on it, and the top opened like a jewelery box. Inside it was only one small, oval object with a green button on the underside of it. He set the object on the floor and then depressed the green button.

Moore swiveled his chair around to relax and stare out of the one- way blinds over the window of the Oval Office for a second or two. He filled both glasses this time and continued to stare out the window, but his moment of relaxation was interrupted by a faint, crackling hiss sound that was coming from behind him, followed by a short burst of white light. Without turning to see the cause, President Moore sighed again and then put on a fake smile—an M-space teleportation, directly to the Oval Office.