He turns on his heel, leaving us no choice but to follow, first through the huge cave, then a few narrow hallways, lined with crude cave lights, attached to cables. The corridor seems endless; I estimate it to be at least a quarter mile long before we come to a metal door guarded on both sides by two Russian soldiers. Dimitrov has to enter a code, scan his hand and his eyes before it opens. The next hallway is a little friendlier; the walls are wider apart, brightened by overhanging lights. Six metal doors on both sides are set in regular intervals into the rock, all closed.
Our guide walks us towards an entrance straight ahead, that leads into another hallway, exactly the same as the one before, except at one door, four guards stand, looking grim.
Dimitrov approaches them and speaks something fast in Russian. One of the soldiers nods and vanishes behind the door for a minute before sticking his head back out and waving us in.
"We'll wait out here," Dimitrov says, and Litvin's face falls at the statement, he had hoped to meet his Commander-in-Chief. I almost feel sorry for him.
My heart picks up speed, and my hands go clammy; surreptitiously, I wipe them against the material of my pants; Colin notices and takes one of my hands in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I smile up at him before taking a deep breath and entering the room.
The meetings with President McFarland on the big screens had been unnerving enough; to be in his presence is something else. As the President of the United States, he yields much power, but it's not just his status that intimidates me, he also is very imposing as a man, tall and broad-shouldered.
Next to him is another man I recognize from TV only, in person, he too seems so much more imposing. President Fedorov is as tall as McFarland, has maybe an inch on him, and looks a lot like a young Charlton Heston. His clear blue eyes take Colin and me in, curiously.
Off to the side are two women, one I also recognize from the news, Misses McFarland. For a woman, she too is very tall, probably only a few inches shorter than the men, she looks like a model, even though she, like everybody, is wearing fatigues.
The other woman is shorter than me; if she is five feet tall, then only while wearing six-inch heels, I think. She is very round, and it takes me a minute to realize she is pregnant, very pregnant. Her eyes sparkle with mischief as she smiles at me.
I stiffen as I notice the fifth person standing there—well, not really a person, an alien, Ka. Colin presses my hand in caution. In his eyes, I can see that he, too, wants nothing more than to wring the alien's neck for what he has done. But this is not the time nor place. We need to play our cards close to our chest; Colin does not want Ka to suspect we know what he has done. Even though I don't understand why, I'll respect his wishes and play along. He's more of a politician than I am.
We're both soldiers, through and through. Give me a mission, and I'll fight, but this political stuff? No, thank you. At least a bullet is honest. It either kills, or it doesn't; it's not misleading or lying.
Yeah, I prefer the battlefield to politics, and so does Colin, but right now, we're thrown into the midst of politics, and I'll yield to him because he's much better at it than me.
Ka steps towards us first, embraces me. I stiffen but force my body to hug him back. "I'm so glad to see you alive. Please tell me my sister is as well."
Sister? Vren? That murderous bastard. Fratricide doesn't seem to be a stranger to the aliens. I don't need to playact to appear sad at Vren's death. "I'm sorry, Ka. She died."
"It was terrible. The militia must not have realized who they shot at." McFarland offers his hand to us.
That's the story, then? Militia shot our spaceship down? How did Ka explain us being in Europe? I wonder.
"I'm very glad you survived, Commanders. I already informed Admiral Farnsworth to let your family know you're alive."
"Thank you, Sir." Colin lets go of my hand to shake with our Commander-in-Chief.
Introductions with the others are made, and afterward, we are offered drinks, which we gladly accept.
"I'm very honored to meet you." The Russian President says, looking at Colin and me. "Rumors of your exploits precede you; I'm very curious to find out about your latest adventures."
"The honor is ours, Sir," I say, still awestruck. Colin gives me an amused smile.
He takes my hand again and gives it a slight squeeze, making me glance up at him; ever so underhandedly, he nods at me, then rolls his eyes towards the two First Ladies. Instantly I know what he wants me to do. I give a slight, tight nod, and let go of his hand to saunter over to where the women are, refilling the glasses. "Excuse me."
A pair of brown and a pair of blue eyes watch my approach curiously. "I was wondering if you could show me to the bathroom?"
I force eye contact with each First Lady, making sure they understand I want them both with me. Both women understand the political game well enough to grasp my underhanded message. They hand the drinks to the men, and Missis McFarland asks me to follow them.
By the small bar is a door leading into another room, appearing to be a study, computers are arranged on several desks, and most walls are lined with books. At the end is yet another door, towards which I'm stirred. We enter the most extravagant bathroom I've ever seen. The walls, still rocky, have been polished to a soft sheen, two sinks line
