“Madam President,” he said formally, bowing slightly.
“Michelangelo, pleased to see you.”
“We’re running ground reviews for another minute, then we’ll switch straight to interview.”
“Fine.” Doi positioned the rebuttal team icon to the middle of her virtual vision, and pulled the show feed from her grid. Hanko-based reporters were moving through the awesome crowd outside the gateway, snatching comments at random. Mostly they were good-natured, everyone was pulling together: a man who was giving an elderly neighbor a lift with his family; bus company employees who’d volunteered to drive the buses loaded with patients from the hospitals; young kids who’d grabbed pets. People helping out other people. The refugees were a community pulling together in the worst crisis they’d ever known. They gave the ruined sky above the force field resentful looks, but spoke about the trip through the wormhole with cautious optimism. Some snide remarks about Hasimer saving his ass first, which made Doi tighten her lips in disapproval. There was anger that nothing more had been done to save their world, and a lot of heartache about everything they were being forced to leave behind. The feed switched to Michelangelo.
“So, Madam President, now we’ve seen the temporal displacement start, do you think anything more could have been done to save Hanko and the remaining Second47 planets?”
“Not a thing,” Doi said. “The navy did a magnificent job—”
“Sorry to interrupt, but you’ve just fired Admiral Kime. That doesn’t sound to me that you were satisfied with the navy’s performance.”
“The ships and their crews performed superbly. It was the way they were prioritized that gave the War Cabinet grave concern. Consequently, we had no alternative but to accept Admiral Kime’s resignation. I cannot hide from the fact that we didn’t have enough starships, and that is a major funding issue which Senator Goldreich is examining; but the sheer scale of the alien invasion is still something we are all coming to terms with.”
“Are you worried that more attacks will be forthcoming?”
“No. We have taken steps to insure this atrocity will not be repeated.”
“I understand you can’t give any details, but how confident can you be of that?”
“Completely. We have all seen how powerful our weapons have become. I accept responsibility for the ultimate outcome from the deployment of such power against living creatures, but I will not hold back from defending the Commonwealth. I believe in us, I believe we have a right to exist.”
“Something I’m sure my rival, or I should say ex-rival, Alessandra Baron believed in, too. Can you tell us why Senate Security forces thought it necessary to kill her during an attempt at arrest? Did she ask one awkward question too many in the Senate dining hall?”
A century of politics in the front line enabled the President to keep her expression calm, but it was a close thing. “I’m sorry, Michelangelo, but as you well know I can’t comment on an active classified case.”
“So you do know what Alessandra’s alleged crime was?”
“I can’t comment.”
“Very well, can you tell us why Boongate has dropped out of the unisphere? Have the Prime ships successfully invaded?”
“Certainly not. The navy is keeping them off every Second47 world.”
“Then why is there no unisphere link?”
“I believe the physical connection has failed; it’s unusual and unfortunate at this time, but there’s nothing mysterious about it. I assure you we are in contact with Boongate through secure government links. They’re just not wide enough to provide a full unisphere connection.”
“Did the linkage failure have anything to do with the wormhole being reopened?”
“I am not aware of the wormhole to Boongate being reopened.”
“It was, for a very short time. According to some of the refugees who took advantage of the opening to come here to Wessex, and we’ve interviewed four so far, three trains went through from here. What was on those trains, Madam President? What was so important that they were using lethal force to protect? They were shooting at each other, weren’t they?”
“You’re asking me questions about a local incident which I’ve never heard of. The office of President doesn’t exist as a research facility for news shows. I can only suggest you direct your queries about gunfire to the local police.”
“Fair enough, Madam President. Finally, can you tell us if it’s true your chief of staff Patricia Kantil was called in for questioning by Senate Security?”
“I can tell you that Patricia Kantil has my complete confidence. Thank you.” Elaine Doi turned on a heel and marched away.
“Thank you, Madam President,” Michelangelo called after her. There was a great deal of mockery in his voice.
The presidential bodyguard fell in around Elaine as she left the control center, her face a perfect image of contentment. Patricia walked beside her, saying nothing, equally happy-looking. Once they were back in the presidential limousine Elaine checked the screening was on, then kicked the door.
“Where the fuck does that dickhead get off asking me those questions?” she yelled. “Egotistical shit! I’ll fucking have him shot if he pulls a stunt like that again.”
“Don’t say that, even in private,” Patricia said. “One day you’ll slip and say it in public.”
“Right.” Doi kicked the door again, with feeling. “Bastard! Who gave him all that information, for Christ’s sake? And was it true about the Boongate wormhole?”
“Someone’s leaking badly. I suspect it’s being done to soften the shock impact when the public finally gets to hear the Starflyer is real. That would indicate the navy was behind Michelangelo’s illicit briefing. Specifically Columbia, the bastard. He’s building a perception in the public mind that they’re on the ball.”
Doi gave Patricia what amounted to a guilty look. “How much damage can the Starflyer do us?”
“It’s been manipulating Commonwealth politics for decades. Seventy planets have been destroyed, and millions of people killed. We almost lost the war because of cost considerations. Voter mistrust of politicians has never been stronger. Frankly, there’ll be a bloodbath at the next elections. Our assessment team estimates around seventy percent of the current senators will lose their seats.”
“And my reelection chances?”
Patricia drew a breath. “I’ll resign as your chief of staff as soon as Sheldon wipes out Dyson Alpha. That should give you some distance from the Starflyer.”
“Only in a fair and just universe. Nobody’s going to forget the shotgun about me being one of its agents, not now.”
“It was black propaganda. The Starflyer sent it. Isabella…” Her mouth flattened in anger.
Elaine put a sympathetic hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“They said it corrupted her mind when she was a child. Jesus. Can you imagine that? A little girl having her brain invaded by that monster. What she must have gone through, the suffering.” Tears began to well up as she bent over, her head falling into her hands.
“It’s over now,” Elaine said, rubbing Patricia’s spine as the uncontrollable sobbing began.
“What I saw of her, they were glimpses of what she could have been like. How beautiful her life could have been. I should have known, should have realized something was wrong. A teenager giving me advice on political strategy. Me! Of all people. But I loved her, so I never questioned.”
“She can still be that person you thought you saw. They can root the Starflyer out of her memories, turn her back to a full human being.”