“But we do have to mend fences,” he repeated. “We cannot afford having the US government trying to either impede us or even just refusing to cooperate. The consequences could be disastrous.”
Chapter Twelve
Joint Base Andrews, USA
Steve disliked having to admit that he’d been wrong, but his father had taught him — more than once — that it was worse to cling to something he knew damn well wasn’t true. He didn’t trust the government — he would never trust the government — yet Kevin had been right. He’d allowed his hatred to drive his actions, rather than sober cold rationality. Perhaps it was time to mend fences.
Mariko had agreed, when he’d gone to her and confessed everything Kevin had told him. She’d listened, then pointed out that men had their pride — and the more powerless a man felt, the more he would cling to his pride. Steve had humiliated the government and the government would want to push back, if only to maintain its position. But perhaps, if they talked openly, there was a chance to come to an agreement.
He smiled as he drove the van towards the gatehouse. Joint Base Andrews, the home of Air Force One, was one of the most secure locations in Washington, designated as a Presidential bolthole if the shit hit the fan. The armed Marines stepped out of the gatehouse, weapons raised, as he pulled the van to a halt. Steve couldn’t help feeling a hint of nostalgia as he saw them, followed by a flicker of approval. These men were genuine combat troops, alright. They knew better than to let an uninspected van anywhere near them, not when a bomb packed in the vehicle could do real damage. Steve waited until one of them came up to the window, then removed his sunglasses.
“My name is Steve Stuart,” he said. “I’m here to meet with the President.”
They’d argued endlessly over how Steve should approach the base. Mongo had proposed teleporting into the base itself, but with the Secret Service on the lookout — and probably already paranoid after events in Montana — it had struck Steve as a very bad idea. Besides, as Kevin had pointed out, the idea was to try to mend fences, not rub the government’s face in its technological inferiority. Eventually, one of the vans had been transported to a point near Washington by a shuttle and Steve had driven the rest of the way.
It was nearly twenty minutes before he was cleared through security and allowed to drive up to a nondescript building. There was nothing, apart from a handful of snipers on the rooftop, to suggest that anyone important was inside, something that Steve thoroughly approved of. The simplest way to avoid being targeted was to act as though there was nothing worth targeting in the area. He parked the van, then opened the door and climbed out. It felt oddly good to be standing in a military base once again.
“Steve,” a droll voice said. “What have you been doing?”
Steve smiled when he saw Craig Henderson. They were old friends; he would have recruited Henderson, if he hadn’t remained on active duty. As it was, it would be nice to have someone on his side in the meeting — or at least willing to help build links between the two parties, when the talks got heated.
“Something extraordinary,” Steve said. He smiled, then jerked a thumb towards the van. “I brought a gift. You’ll need to assign a team of loaders to unload it, then transport it to somewhere secure.”
Henderson paused. “And what is this gift?”
“All will be explained,” Steve said. He inclined a hand towards the door. “Shall we go inside?”
The building was surprisingly luxurious inside. Henderson kept up a running commentary about how the building was often used for secret low-key meetings between the President and foreign representatives. It was, apparently, as secure as possible, although none of the precautions seemed to block Steve’s link with the starship. However, if they started to broadcast more static into the air, it might well prevent a safe teleport. He kept his expression blank as Henderson led him into a small, but comfortable room. The President was sitting on the sofa, waiting for him. He rose as Steve entered the room.
“Mr. Stuart,” the President said. He held out a hand, which Steve awkwardly took and shook, firmly. “I’ve heard a great deal about you.”
Steve nodded, feeling himself lost for words. This was the President, the duly elected Head of State and Government, the most powerful man in the world. He’d been brought up to respect the office, even if he had been taught that the men who sat in it were human and therefore fallible. His father hadn’t spoken favourably of any President since Reagan, condemning Clinton in one breath and George W. Bush in the next. And he’d died midway through Bush’s second term.
“All exaggerated, I suspect,” Steve said, as the President released his hand. “Particularly the story about the Swedish woman’s swim team.”
The President smiled. It was a genuinely friendly smile. Up close, Steve had to admit the man had charisma. It shouldn’t have been important in a Presidential election, but it was. And the man had balls. Faced with what had to look like a villain straight out of James Bond, the man had picked a meeting place and come to the meeting, without giving into the temptation to cower under his desk.
He sat down on the sofa facing the President and waited until the Navy Stewards had poured them coffee, then withdrew. Henderson stood behind the President’s sofa, clearly ill at ease. Steve didn’t blame him. Craig Henderson had always been ambitious, but he’d never wanted to become involved in political battles. Few military officers cared for bureaucratic engagements.
“Well,” the President said. “Shall we get right to the point?”
Steve nodded and started to speak, outlining everything that had happened from the abduction attempt to the capture of the alien starship and the start of a new nation. The President listened, his face curiously expressionless; behind him, Henderson didn’t even try to hide his astonishment. Steve wondered, as he came to the end of his story, just how much of it the President had guessed beforehand. After all, significant advances in technology didn’t come out of nowhere.
“I see,” the President said, when he had finished. “And that is all true?”
“Yes, Mr. President,” Steve said.
“And you intend to found a new nation, while defending the planet,” the President mused. “An interesting endeavour — and quite a worthwhile one. Might I ask how you intend to proceed?”
Steve had expected a demand that the ship and technology be instantly turned over to the government. Kevin, however, had doubted it. The government would hardly risk exposing its own weakness by making a demand it knew would probably be rejected outright. Instead, Kevin had predicted, the government would try to come to terms with the new nation.
“We intend to continue recruiting — more openly, now — and purchasing supplies and raw materials from Earth,” Steve said, carefully. “Given enough time, we should be able to put together a working defence network for the planet, particularly as we unlock more and more secrets of alien technology. Eventually, we plan to settle the entire solar system and reach for the stars.”
“Ambitious,” the President commented. “Perhaps we can be of assistance?”
“We would prefer to do our own recruiting,” Steve said. “If this became a US Government project it would cause problems with other nations, problems we would prefer to avoid.”
“I would have thought that NASA might have some ideas,” the President said.
Steve snorted. “If NASA had been led by men of vision, Mr. President, we would have hotels on Titan and Mars would be halfway to being habitable,” he said. “Instead, trillions of dollars have been wasted on pretty artwork and feel-good diplomacy, while the Russians, Chinese and Indians move ahead with their own space programs. We don’t even have a working replacement for the Space Shuttle.”