Alien in Chief (17 page)

CHAPTER 32

R
AIL FORCE ONE
was normally six cars long, not counting the engine and the caboose. With Rail Force Two added on we had thirteen. Chose not to think of this as an unlucky fact.

“Thirteen cars,” Tim said. “Not good.” Many heads nodded. Though apparently I was the only one trying to not think of it as unlucky.

“Is it too late to add another car?” Joseph asked. When the head of a Secret Service detail asks about the dangers of the number thirteen, you have to consider just how widespread that superstition is.

“Consider it a lucky number for gamblers,” Chuckie, the Voice of No Superstitions Allowed, said. “And let's get rolling.”

Mom nodded her agreement, and everyone else stopped whining. At least out loud. I was pretty sure some were still whining on the inside.

After the engine, there was a car for Secret Service and other personnel, then the President's car, the War Room car, the Private Dining Car for the executive families and anyone else they felt like eating with, then the Vice President's car, another Secret Service and other personnel car, followed by two guest cars, the General Dining Car, yet another guest car, a last car for Secret Service and related
personnel, and finally the caboose. All the cars were rather sleek, painted white with a pretty blue that matched my suit. Go me, color coordinating with our transportation.

“If you don't count the engine, it's twelve cars,” I said to Joseph as we headed for the official Rail Force Two car, or Car Number 6.

“It's important to count the engine. And if you note, the engine is Car Number One.”

“Just trying to help.”

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Joseph muttered under his breath. Chose not to tell him that this just showed he was aware of how our luck rolled, mostly because I didn't think he'd appreciate it.

The Secret Service and our A-C agents fanned out, two to a person, to get everyone onto the train, into the right cars, and otherwise organized. Besides Joseph, Rob, Evalyne, and Phoebe, Buchanan, Len, and Kyle were with us, though because they were part of our protection detail they didn't drag along extra Secret Service agents.

Though the agents would be sleeping in the nearest personnel car down, Buchanan and the boys would be sleeping in Rail Force Two with us. Which would put a major crimp in my plans to do the deed on the train, but I was confident I could find a workaround. My plan had a shot of succeeding, since at least Mom was sleeping in Rail Force One, and there was no way I could do a workaround if she was in the car with us—the soundproofing was nowhere near good enough.

The interior of the cars was extremely plush, kind of like a rolling luxury hotel. Lots of rich woods, brass fixtures, and an air of understated opulence. The Presidential Seal was the overriding motif, and there was a reliance on a lot of red, white, and blue, too, in terms of decorations, but it was worth it.

The President's and VP's private cars were similar—sleeping areas near the front, with a private room for the
POTUS or the VPOTUS, living room/lounge/dining table, kitchen near the back, a small double bunk for the steward and porter, with two bathrooms, one for the sleeping quarters, one for the rest.

The dining cars were typical in that on one side there were tables that seated four and on the other the tables only seated two. The kitchens in each of these cars took up less than a quarter of the car, but it was amazing what came out of them. I couldn't have made anything decent in them, but the stewards and porters insisted that the kitchens were set up for maximum efficiency and I wasn't going to argue with them. I could smell food being prepared already, and my mouth started watering.

The guest cars were typically nice sleepers, with a small lounge and seating area in addition to the sleeping bunks. The cars for personnel were similar, with less niceties and a lot more easy access to everyone they needed to protect and care for.

The War Room car was just that—a car filled with a long conference table, comfy chairs, and all the electronic bells and whistles that allowed the President to stay in touch with everyone he might need to. It had a smaller kitchen, if such could be believed, and a small lounge in it as well, to keep everyone fed and hydrated.

The caboose was one of my favorite cars, in part because this was where all the PR took place. Whenever the stumping was going on, as it would be, frequently, on this journey, the caboose was where the President and whoever else stood, entered and exited, and so forth. Ergo, the caboose was also decorated more than any of the other cars, mostly with American flags and some Armstrong-Martini posters.

The interior of the caboose reminded me of newsrooms in the movies—lots of electronics, lots of people frantically working, writing position papers, altering speeches, and so forth. The Press Secretary and, when he was with us, Raj,
tended to spend most of their time here when not in the War Room.

Ariel Hillel was Armstrong's Press Secretary. He was a nice guy around our age. I didn't interact with him all that much, but I knew that Raj liked him and vice versa.

“Where's Raj?” Ariel asked me with a sniffle as he joined us in our car, trailed by his requisite two Secret Service agents. It was a credit to the car's design that having twelve people in here didn't make it feel crowded. “I've been looking for him.”

“You crying because he's not here?” I asked.

“No. The President has a cold and I've caught it, I guess.”

“Ugh, condolences, and please don't share that around.”

We brought him up to speed on why Raj and others weren't with us. Ariel didn't look happy. He also didn't look like he felt all that great.

“I realize why he stayed home, but we're going to get hit with the same questions while on this trip, and none of you are prepared with answers. And while your answers can and should match the President's, you're going to be asked different questions than he is.”

“Do you want us to call him in?” Jeff asked. “He can get here in less than five minutes.”

“I'm not sure. I thought you were bringing Oliver along, too.”

“He stayed home for the same reason as Raj,” I shared.

Ariel grimaced. “I wonder if that was their plan all along.”

“Welcome to Team Megalomaniac. Yeah, that's what we're thinking. But everyone felt that we needed Raj at home.”

“Let me discuss it with the President,” Ariel said, as he bustled off, his agents trailing him.

Before Jeff and I could discuss this, our steward came in. “Good to have you back,” he said with a beaming smile.
Happily, he didn't look like he'd caught the Presidential Cold yet.

“Javier, always great to see you.” Jeff gave him a hearty handshake.

“Even better to smell your cooking,” I said as I gave him a big hug.

Javier did quadruple duty—he was the steward, porter, chef, and waiter. It was nice for us because it meant only one extra person in the car, and he said he both enjoyed all the duties and made more money because of them, so it was a win-win all the way around. The President had his own All-In-One dude, too.

Javier laughed. “It's always my pleasure when you two are taking the train. I went over menus with Raj last night.” He looked around. “Where is he?”

“That's the question of the hour.” Time to fill Javier in on what was going on, which we did.

He looked worried once we were done. “So, Raj, Mister Joel Oliver, and Missus Dwyer all aren't here? I'm not going to try tell you guys policy, but it really seems like your enemies wanted to be sure some of your key personnel weren't around.”

Had to think for a moment who he meant, then realized that Mrs. Dwyer was Serene. “Well, we have other key personnel still with us, so we should be okay.”

“And for all we know, Ariel is going to ask us to have Raj come anyway,” Jeff added.

“And the kids aren't along?” Javier asked, this time looking disappointed.

“No, they stayed home. Under the circumstances it seemed wiser.” At least per Denise, and who was I to argue?

“Well, it won't be as fun without them, but that means I'll have even more time to pamper the two of you.”

“You're my favorite, just sayin'.”

Javier laughed. “Glad to be of service. Truly. I'll get your
things unpacked.” He nodded to Len and Kyle. “You two want to do the standard observations?”

“Yes, sir,” Len said.

Javier grinned. “You know she likes us all informal.”

“I say it again, Javier is my favorite.”

“I'll get jealous later,” Jeff said. “We need to make sure everyone else is settled and check in with Vince.”

Joseph had his head slightly cocked, which he did when he was listening to his earpiece in a non-stress situation. He nodded. “The President wants everyone to meet in the War Room once they're settled in and their porters are handling their luggage.”

“You want us in there before or after the train leaves the station?” Jeff asked.

Joseph relayed the question. “The President says he defers to what the Ambassador thinks.”

“Wow. Vince is totally my favorite. Um, I honestly think I want to defer that decision to Malcolm, though.”

Buchanan chuckled while everyone other than Javier shot surreptitious glares at him. “It's nice to be appreciated, Missus Chief. She'd prefer to ask her mother,” he said to Jeff, “but since I'm here, I'm the best stand-in.”

“Traitor.” Buchanan knew me far too well, apparently. My phone beeped and I took a look. “Apparently Raj is on his way. With, huh, Mister Joel Oliver in tow.”

No sooner had I finished speaking than Raj and MJO appeared. Several people jumped, but fortunately no one drew weapons. MJO also had Ginger in his arms.

“Why is that cat here?” Jeff asked, earning a snide look from Ginger, who leaped out of MJO's arms into mine.

“She wanted to come,” Raj said. “Insisted really. It was bring her or risk her clawing up the entire Embassy.”

“Good call then.” Hey, I liked to be supportive. Besides, Ginger was great to roll with and would give me an extra snuggle buddy if Jeff was stumping and I was napping, which I hoped to have happen somewhere along the line.

“Thanks, and sorry we're late,” Raj said. “We decided that Serene, Kevin, and Bruce Jenkins would handle things at the Embassy and Mister Joel Oliver and I would do what we'd planned to on the train.”

“Hopefully thwarting what our enemies wanted.” Put Ginger down next to Bruno, who de-cloaked, presumably so that he, too, could make people jump. They nuzzled each other in a form of Animal High Five. “So, Malcolm, back to you.”

“Get these two settled,” he indicated Raj and MJO, not Ginger and Bruno, “then have all the Secret Service and A-C agents check in with me. Once we know everyone's in place, then the train starts off. Once we're rolling, then everyone key goes to the War Room.”

“Why do you want to wait?” Jeff asked.

Buchanan shrugged. “Because I don't trust anyone. Not even the people here.”

CHAPTER 33

“I
T'S ONE OF
your better qualities, yeah,” I said as Jeff glared at him. “And Jeff, he's protecting us, let's remember.”

I took for granted that Buchanan didn't trust me and Jeff, but not in a traitorous way. He didn't trust us to behave and follow his or anyone else's orders. Rightly.

“I am. That I'm not trusting should not be a surprise to anyone, you in particular, Mister Chief. And I want to make sure that everyone we want is on board and no one we don't is removed before we start off.”

Evalyne tapped on her phone. “I've asked Manfred to take an A-C team and search all the cars once everyone's checked in.”

“Good.” Buchanan looked at Len and Kyle. “You two take these two,” he jerked his head at Raj and MJO, “to their cars and hand them off to their protection details.”

The boys nodded, everyone linked hands, and then Raj kicked up the hyperspeed and they disappeared.

“So, do we think that this circumvents whatever our enemies wanted?” I asked the room in general.

“Too early to tell,” Buchanan replied. “But I'm sure we'll find out. Sooner as opposed to later.”

Our Secret Service people spent a lot of time talking and tapping, then Len and Kyle returned to our car, the
confirmation that the A-Cs had done a triple search—including scanning for all the things we routinely scanned for—came through, and the go signal was finally given.

There were enough seats for all of us in our car to sit comfortably, which we did, Ginger and Bruno at my feet. There were no windows in the President's car, ours, or the War Room car for security reasons, so we didn't get to watch as we pulled out of the station. That was the downside. The upside was that Javier brought everyone delicious fruit drinks that were refreshing and didn't even make you miss the alcohol that wasn't in them. He also had a nice cheese plate ready. And some water and food for the animals, too, because he was just that kind of awesome.

So we sipped and munched while the train worked up speed. Once the cheese plate and our glasses were emptied, Joseph declared us underway enough to head for the War Room.

Told the animals to stay put, which they did by flying and leaping onto our bed and snuggling down for a nap.

Walking on the train was always interesting because even the smoothest ride was still somewhat bumpy, though the only real issues were the changes between cars. However, from what I'd been told, the couplings between cars were a lot closer together than they'd been in the old days, so there was less risk of falling off.

Still, Jeff kept a firm hold on me, and I kept a firm hold on my purse and the duffel bag I hadn't let Javier put away. Had to figure that if Algar had specifically given the duffel to me, then I should keep it nearby.

To get to the War Room car we had to walk through the dining car that was for us and the President and whomever else we might grace with the joys of eating with us and taking bets on how often I spilled what on myself.

I stopped to say hi to and get hugs from Isaiah, who was the chef for Rail Force One and had been for several decades now, Brandon, his apprentice, who was much younger
and had only been working with Isaiah for five years, and Eleanor, who was the pastry chef and considered quite the phenom, since she'd been on Rail Force One since she graduated from culinary school.

Also got to greet and hug Nathan, the headwaiter, and Lincoln, the other waiter for the car. They'd both been working for the Office of the President for twenty years.

Greetings to some of my favorite people who made riding the train the awesome experience that it was over, I allowed myself to be dragged into the War Room, in part because everyone else on the train who wasn't with the President and First Lady were coming up behind us and I was clogging the transit artery.

Fortunately the War Room was set up to have a lot of people present, because we did, and I for one wasn't willing to stand in an impressive manner, especially since the Secret Service and A-C Field teams had all the good standing places claimed already. Frankly, if our enemies wanted to take us out, all they'd have to do was hit this one car.

“We shouldn't all be in here together,” Chuckie muttered as he sat down next to me.

“Dude, I was thinking the same thing,” I whispered back.

“We're fine,” Jeff said to both of us. “Chuck, relax.”

“Don't worry, we've got this,” Reader said, as Gower sat on Chuckie's other side. Reader stayed standing behind both of them, possibly because he was betting on us not having enough chairs. “Planes are in the air.”

By key people, Armstrong meant Jeff, me, Alpha Team, and Raj. I'd insisted on Christopher and White being here, too, and Chuckie had insisted on Oliver and Stryker. Caroline had done the insisting on her own, on behalf of Senator McMillan.

Tim, Claudia, and Lorraine brought up the rear. Our people definitely outnumbered those Armstrong had brought with him. Then again, our people were the ones the Planetary Council was likely coming to visit.

Armstrong's wife Elaine was in the car, but only to leave it once the rest of us had come in. Which was a pity, because I really liked her. On the other hand, I couldn't blame her for scampering off to hang out with everyone else and have food and drinks. I could envy her, and I did, but I couldn't blame her.

Sadly, in addition to Ariel, Armstrong had his Secretary of State with us as well. I'd personally had no opinion of her when she'd first taken the job, but Other Me from Bizarro World had hated her, and told Buchanan to be sure to tell me to keep an eye on Strauss at all times.

That intel had been helpful, and by now I was fairly sure that Strauss was anti-alien, though she was hiding it really well. It was something that I couldn't bring up with Armstrong—he thought Strauss was doing a bang-up job and she was indeed loyal to him. But she took any chance to discredit Jeff or American Centaurion with gusto, though always in a way that appeared to be coming from a place of concern. If we had a leak, mole, or internal enemy who wasn't Langston Whitmore or Cliff Goodman, I was certain Monica Strauss was it.

Once we were gathered, instead of discussing what to do in Florida, or in case of an attack while we were going down to Florida, or even discussing the escaped assassins and such, it was all talk of what we were campaigning about at each stop. In between Armstrong, Ariel, and Strauss all sniffling and looking like they didn't feel all that great. We were apparently going to be bringing the common cold with us as a defensive measure. Well, it had worked in
War of the Worlds
.

I heard the campaigning words, but my mind closed the Ear Windows and wouldn't let any of the boring inside. Instead, since no one else appeared to be worrying about this, I contemplated all the myriad ways our enemies were going to try to attack us. There were so many possibilities that I was completely occupied. At least until I heard my name.

“Sorry?” was all I could come up with.

“I asked your opinion,” Armstrong said nicely. Clearly he'd thought I'd been paying attention. Go me for my college Totally Paying Attention Face still being good.

Christopher was in the room, however, and I knew he knew that I hadn't been, because he shot me an award-winning Patented Glare #5. This, of course, told me nothing other than the fact that Christopher felt I'd blown it. Hey, not my fault all the blah, blah, blah was getting to me.

Thankfully, though, Reader, who'd been walking around the room once everyone had started talking and was now opposite me, was the one who shared what was going on. “I know you want Vince to make up his own mind, Kitty, but I think it's important that you share your opinion on whether or not we discuss the Planetary Council's impending arrival at any or all of the various stops we're going to make.”

Interesting. I hadn't caught any of this. Clearly my brain needed to open my Ear Windows at least a crack. However, my father had always taught me that if you didn't want to answer, or didn't have an answer, it was always acceptable to answer a question with another question.

“I think the issue is—how much of the Planetary Council's visit are we planning to share with the general population?”

Reader shot me a “good one” look, as Armstrong, Ariel, and Strauss all nodded in that way political types seem to learn quickly—the nod that made you think they were giving whatever you'd said some serious thought.

Strauss was the one who took the question, though. “You've made a good point, Ambassador. We honestly have no idea what the Planetary Council will expect. That's why all of you are along for this particular journey—because we expect you to anticipate their expectations so we can plan accordingly. After all, your first career
was
in marketing. We're asking you for your recommendations for how we spin this.”

It was official—Other Me had pegged this woman correctly. Pity she'd had no suggestions for how to deal with her. And it was also a pity that, realistically, Strauss was right—I was probably the one who should be coming up with the right spin.

Raj cleared his throat. “I'm sorry, Ambassador. Due to the circumstances that delayed my arrival, I wasn't able to give you our finalized position papers on this. However, if you'd like me to share them with everyone, I'd be happy to do so.”

“Carry on, Raj. That's your bailiwick.” Made a mental note that, whatever Raj's salary was, it needed to be doubled the moment we were home.

He turned and gave Strauss a beaming troubadour smile. “American Centaurion is, of course, excited that beings from our original solar system are choosing to come to further strengthen relations with Earth. However, considering this was an impromptu trip on both sides, and since we have the same intelligence as you do, meaning we have no more information about why the Planetary Council has chosen now to visit, we don't want to push any particular agenda.”

“Though we're fairly sure that they've picked up the discussions to close NASA Base,” White said. “And I'm certain they're concerned about that.”

I was certain that White was going to make sure the Planetary Council expressed concerns about the potential closing, whether they knew about it already or were going to find out once White told them about it in such a way that they would insist it remain open and viable.

“Add on the fact that we have prisoners out of supermax,” Reader added, “and we're probably better off not giving anyone any ideas.”

I was certainly on the side of not giving wacked out assassins and surviving Yates progeny any ideas at all, but I had a feeling they were full of ideas regardless of my thoughts on the matter.

All four of the men now looked at me. Clearly it was time for me to cough up the definitive reply. “Hence, I suggest that we focus on campaigning until we're at NASA Base.”

“Is that your recommendation?” Strauss asked. A tad too eagerly for my liking.

Considered options. Decided that, barring Strauss, we were among friends and this was supposed to be the War Room, not the Position Papers Room. And I was already tired of having to act like a politician. Plus, despite the snack from earlier, I was hungry.

“No.”