"Oh shit!" Moore said startled. He sat his cup down and leaned forward.
"Yes, sir," the general agreed.
Blood splattered out of the back of the woman's head and onto a screaming man behind her. The dead presidents let go of the body, and it fell limp with a thud to the floor behind Madira as she turned around.
"Greetings infidels," Sienna Madira said. "The United States of America simply decided to ignore the fact that the Martian underclass has suffered for ages since your so-called great leader President Sienna Madira drove us to the Reservation. We left your space four years ago, but we have not forgotten what was done to us. We only wish to be left in peace, out of the reach of your evil government and far from the reach of its tyranny.
"We truly believe that the congress and senate and the people of the Sol System wish to leave us alone for the most part. But. But . . ." The Sienna Madira robot shook its head for dramatic effect. "But your executive leadership has continued to threaten and coerce the peace- desiring members of your government toward military buildup. You still continue to build up your supercarriers and your squadrons of mecha and armored vehicles. I ask you this. If there are no longer any of us Martians, true Americans, left in your system, then what are you building up your military might for?" The robot paused for a brief moment.
"I will tell you. Your President Alexander Moore is preparing to attack the Separatist refugees. We fled your system so that we would no longer have to interact with you. But if you continue to allow this criminal of war to track us across the stars and hunt us down like animals, we will respond in kind." The robot nodded at Garfield and Carter, who in return dragged another human in front of her. The Madira likeness raised her pistol and blasted the poor man in the side of the head. More screams filled the background as the man's body collapsed to the floor.
"There are over twenty thousand employees of the Disney World complex that we have taken. We will kill one of them every minute until you hand over this war criminal to us. Hand over President Moore, and the shooting will stop. Until then, the body count will continue to rise. We will wait for the criminal, Moore, to be dropped by himself outside the Hall of Presidents. At that point, all hostages will be freed, and we will then take the criminal with us back to be tried by Her Majesty, Elle Ahmi." Again, the robot paused for a brief moment as another human was pulled forward.
"There is one more thing. There is a gluonium bomb right here," the bot pointed at her stomach. "The bomb is large enough to remove the entire Disney World complex from the face of this planet, as well as several of the outlying areas. Do not attempt an attack, or we will detonate the device. Do not attempt to evacuate the surrounding cities and homes, or we will detonate the device. Give us the criminal Moore, and all will be fine." The bot raised its hand and shot a third victim between the eyes and then the transmission was cut.
"Jesus, fucking, Christ, Almighty, God!" Moore spat. Abigail, start a clock and keep a body tally for me.
Yes, sir.
See if you can find out any more data on how these damned amusement AI things work.
Absolutely, sir. Good idea.
And don't forget Ahmi's modus operandi, the AI kitties and all that.
Yes, sir. All of her technical history is relevant here.
"Yes, Mr. President, those are my sentiments exactly."
"How the flying fuck did they get all this put in place without anybody knowing about it?"
"I don't know, sir. Perhaps that is a question for the CIA and the DNI." The general nodded again to the Air Force colonel at the end of the table, and she tapped away, bringing up a new scene that showed a classified dossier of a spec ops team in armored e-suits training. "Sir,
I've got JFCOM team three and SEAL team four in place and ready to take action. I can send them in immediately at your order to take those bastards out and commandeer that bomb."
"General, those damned fairy-tale things gave a full squad of FM- 12 Marine strike mecha a hell of a hard time with no telling how many casualties. I think that sending in more meat for the grinder would be a bad idea." Moore's face grew grim, and his eyes began to burn with a vengeful rage.
"Any suggestions then, Mr. President?"
Moore slammed his fist down against the table and started laughing maniacally. He stood and paced back and forth, cursing under his breath and kicking a small trash can across the room. He had been fighting and running from that bitch for thirty years it seemed like. That goddamned Elle Ahmi had captured and tortured him almost to death at the Martian Desert campaigns, and had it not been for Sehera springing him, he'd have probably been among the thousands of soldiers that had been tortured to death. He had struggled with all his might to get away from the damned Separatist forces during the Martian Exodus. He had done all that he could to get his family away safely while that crazy bitch tried her damnedest to blow up Mons City. And then today, his family vacation had been turned into a crazy nightmare that would probably scar his adolescent daughter for life. Moore was tired of running. He was tired of the Separatists, and he was, by God, tired of Elle Ahmi! It was about fucking time that Major Moore did something about it if President Moore couldn't.
"Get Gail Fehrer and Calvin Dean on the line, now. And get me a communications link to that crazy robot, ASAP." Moore picked up his coffee cup, poured sugar from the bowl until it was empty, and then killed the oversweet mixture quickly. The hot, strong flavor burned his throat and sinuses as he forced it down. The last few teaspoons of the coffee oozed from the sugar settled at the bottom of the cup. Moore finished it all. "This isn't strong enough. Make another pot using the full bag of coffee and get me some energy bars, stims, immunoboost, and painkillers. And an AEM suit loaded for goddamned polar bears, fairy-tale creatures, dinosaurs, and crazed fucking robot dead presidents. Now!"
"Mr. President?"
"I'm all the way in Tampa! For the love of God, stop the killing! I'm coming. I will be there in thirty minutes or less!" President Moore pleaded with the crazed AI that was controlling the dead president on live television. News station ENN had pulled the feeds from a video- conferencing system in the general's conference room and was playing the feed live. The video image from the robot was being fed off of a holoscreen.
"I am pleased that you have decided to surrender yourself. And as stated before, we will gladly stop killing the hostages once you have landed, alone." The robot's cold eyes stared through the screen at Moore, and the heartless reply was obviously part of the programming for the damned thing. Moore ground his teeth together, flexing his jaw muscles tensely.
"If you persist in this killing, it will not help your case any with the American people! Stop this madness. I will surrender myself to you, but not alone. America must see this, and I am bringing the noted action reporter Calvin Dean from ENN."
"His life is in your hands," the AI replied. "This madness, as you call it, is yours, not ours. The Separatists have been trying to live free, and you are the one bringing this upon yourselves. The killing will stop once you arrive." Sienna Madira smiled wildly into the viewer.
"Well, note this! I'm coming. Alexander Moore is coming!" Moore slammed his fist down on the Transmit button, killing the feed to the AIs. He turned to look at the camera system in the conference room so that his face would be seen in every living room across the system. "By Section Three of the Twenty-fifth Amendment of the Constitution of the United States of America, I am declaring a temporary incapacity to perform the duties of the office of the president of the United States. Following this verbal declaration, a written letter will be delivered to the speaker of the House of Representatives and to the president pro tempore of the Senate, declaring that the vice president will become Acting President in my incapacity. The vice president will continue to act as president until such time that I am again able to fulfill the office duties. At that time, I will send another letter to the speaker and to the pro tem." Alexander Moore rubbed his eyes and took a deep long breath. There were no tears there, only rage.