“Hey, babe,” said Pat as he came into Jessica’s tent. “I heard you got a present.”
“It has a nice picture of you,” Jessica said, presenting her husband his picture, which showed him with the banjo he’d brought to the camp.
His eyes narrowed critically. “Do I really look that old? I look like a geezer.”
“In my eyes you’re forever young,” Jessica said, and glanced down again at the article to read the summary of her “most controversial” decision: the intervention at Rails Bluff. There was a sidebar concerning the reactions of unnamed but highly miffed Justice Department officials, who claimed that the situation in Rails Bluff clearly called for Justice Department expertise, that the use of the military in a situation of this sort was a dangerous precedent.
Oh yeah, Jessica thought. Like the Justice Department could even get their people to Rails Bluff. We’d have to carry them in our helicopters, she thought, and hold their hands all the way to the camp. And even then they’d bungle it.
Still, she would have to bear the Justice Department in mind. Her superiors had warned her that the Civil Rights division was looking into her handling of the matter, in case she’d violated peoples’ rights while freeing them from gun-toting lunatics, but she’d been too busy to worry much about it. Maybe she should talk to someone high up in the Judge-Advocate General’s office and make sure her ass was sufficiently covered.
“Hey,” Pat said, “no fair skipping around. Let’s start at the beginning.” They read the article from beginning to end. Jessica decided she was pleased with it on the whole.
“Though it makes me seem like such a pushy broad,” she said.
“You are a pushy broad,” Pat said chivalrously.
“Yeah, thanks.” Jessica reached for her cup of coffee.
“You’d better call your mom,” Pat said, “and tell her to go to the news dealer and reserve her twenty copies.”
“Twenty?” Jessica mused. “No—for Ma, more like fifty.”
It was then that Nelda came through the tent flap again. Once again she had a pleased, I’ve-got-a-secret look. “General?” she said. “There’s a call for you on the radio. Secured line. From the President.” As she rushed to the communications tent, Jessica found herself brushing at her clothes as if for an inspection. She picked up the handset, said, “Sir? Mr. President?”
There was a moment of silence as words passed back and forth between satellite relays. “Jessica?” he said. “How do you do?”
“I’m fine, sir. And you?”
“I am fit as a fiddle and strong as a bull. I dominate the world as a colossus. I rival the sun as a source of radiance, and I am a nexus of power acknowledged by all the world.”
Jessica blinked, uncertain quite how to respond. “I’m pleased to hear it, sir,” she said finally.
“The only cloud on the horizon, Jessica,” the President said. “The only fly in the ointment, the only blot on my escutcheon, in fact the only taint on my total omnipotence, is the fact that someone has usurped my rightful place on the cover of Newsweek.”
Jessica’s heart gave a lurch. “In fact—” The President’s voice rose in volume, “In fact, I shall have to devote much of my attention to making that person’s life a complete and utter hell on earth.”
“Um,” said Jessica, paralyzed. “Well.”
The President barked a laugh. “Congratulations, Jessica. Well done. I really had you going there for a moment, didn’t I?”
Jessica felt sweat trickle down her nose. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, you did.”
“My staff insisted that I take a few days off and relax at Camp David. That’s where I’m calling from. It’s so dull here that I have no choice but to amuse myself by making prank phone calls to my subordinates.”
“I hope it’s not that dull, sir.”
“Well, no, not entirely, not with Chinese missile tests and the menace of the Gamsakhurdians. I just wanted to congratulate you on your celebrity. And besides, I got the cover of US News and World Report. Unfortunately those swine at Time decided to devote their cover to some little pasty-faced urchin being rescued from the roof of his momma’s car by one of your helicopters.”
“Better luck next time, sir,” Jessica said.
The President laughed. “Yes!” he said. His voice was manic. “Better luck next time! Exactly!” Jessica’s head swam. This was decidedly strange. The President seemed to be calling her from well beyond the ozone layer.
“I wanted to give you a little friendly advice in view of your current celebrity,” the President said. “You’re going to start hearing from people now—people in my line of work, you understand.”
“Yes, sir.”
“They’re going to want to talk to you about running for office. Maybe even for my job.” Jessica answered quickly. “Mr. President, I have never even for a moment considered—”
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Jessica,” the President said. “I don’t give a hang if you run or don’t. What I wanted to say is this—they won’t be approaching you because they admire your brilliant political thinking. They’ll be approaching you not because you’re the best candidate, but because you’re a viable candidate. Because of that Newsweek cover and because you’ve got a very prominent job where you can score a lot of points with the public. And it won’t be about you—it will be about them, you understand? It’s their job to find people like you and groom them for office. It’s their job to approach people and awaken ambitions that people never knew they had, and the more ambition they can find in you, the more they can generate business for themselves. That’s how these people work.” Jessica’s head swam. “I understand, Mr. President.”
“Now if you’ve always wanted to run for office, that’s fine. I can even introduce you to some people—people who work for my party, you understand. But if you have never thought of a career in public service, then I urge you to think long and hard before you give any kind of answer at all to these people.”
“The only career in public service I’ve ever wanted,” Jessica said, in all truth, “was in the military.” The President cackled. “That’s a good one, Jessica!” he said. “That’s exactly what you tell those bastards! That’s my little politician!”
Jessica blinked. “Thank you, sir,” she said.
The President cleared his throat. “Now, if you don’t mind one last piece of advice…”
“By all means, sir.”
“If you value your career, Jessica, try not to shoot up any more churches. Because then even I won’t be able to save your ass, okay?”
Jessica hesitated, trying to read the tone of the President’s voice in order to determine whether he was joking again or not. She decided she might as well reply with the truth, pedantic though it might be.
“Well, Mr. President,” she said, “it wasn’t actually a church. It was a radio station.” The President paused for a moment, then barked out another laugh. “Oh, it was the media!” he said. “In that case, I’m sure they got everything they deserved!”
The conversation ended shortly thereafter. Jessica put down the handset and walked past expectant-looking techs to her tent.
Gamsakhurdians, she thought. The President had mentioned the menace of the Gamsakhurdians. She made a note to herself to find out who the Gamsakhurdians were, and what they were up to. Once her present job was over, the President might need an officer who was on top of the Gamsakhurdian situation.