SpaceCorp (30 page)

To the front and rear of the Beast were two more similarly outfitted tactical vehicles carrying Secret Service. A paramedic vehicle brought up the rear. Well to the front were a formation of eight American-made motorcycles arranged two by two, each operated by special officers from the Washington DC police force.

“They’ve got the limo really close to the awning,” the sniper team commander said. “There won’t be a lot of time to ID the target and get the shot off. He’ll be led by SS. Shoot through them to hit the target. Teams One and Two, keep your sights on the target and listen for my mark. Shoot quickly—you’ll only have a two second opportunity where the target is visible and bullet flight will eat 0.5 seconds. Repeat, Teams One and Two only. Team Three will stand by and be ready to engage either the vehicle if he tries to escape or the building if he retreats back inside.”

“One copy.”

“Two copy.”

“Three copy.”

There was some commotion from under the awning as the door opened. A few seconds later, two Secret Service emerged leading a small procession. A short little man wearing a bullet-proof vest was in the middle. “Mark!” the Sniper Commander said.

“One away.”

“Two away.”

“What happened?” the commander asked. “I lost my scope views on one and two! Target in vehicle. No apparent splash signs. Get me status!”

“Big incendiary explosion from firing position,” Security Team One said. “No casualties our position.”

“Security Two, status?”

“Same as One—big incendiary explosion from firing position and no causalities our position.” 

“Getting a news feed,” Remote Operator One said. “Large fireball coming from Hoover Building.” He fiddled with his news feeds. “Got another fireball from Sunset Bank.”

“What the... Did some fuck-wad cross wire the firing command with the incendiary?”

“Not possible,” Remote Operator One said. “Detonation is on a completely different system.”

“Security Three, status?”

“No activity from firing position.”

“Do you want us to attempt to engage?” Remote Operator Three asked.

“Security One and Two pull back,” the commander said. “Security Three, deactivate your position and retrieve all equipment.”

“You don’t want us to engage?” Remote Operator Team Three asked.

“Negative! Do not engage! Stand down and deactivate. Use extreme caution entering the firing position!”

At the White House driveway below the South Portico

The Secret Service guard standing watch around the Beast sprang into their defensive protocol when the two explosions went off at the Hoover Building and the Sunset Bank. Glocks were drawn and combat crouches assumed as they backed away from the vehicles to close the circle around the president. Several members of the press began recording pictures of the security procedures, too fixated on the scoop to realize the danger.

“Sir, you must go back inside. We don’t know what those explosions were.”

“I don’t give a damn what they were! Unhand me, sir!”

“Sir, you can’t...”

“Unhand me, sir! That’s an order!”

“Sir...”

The
president wrestled his arm away from the Secret Service agent and bolted for the open door of the Beast. “If you want to protect me, get inside and shut the damn door!”

The agent swore under his breath and closed passenger door, then got into the front seat and closed that door.

“Sir, we may not be safe here. We have to get you back to the Bunker.”

“I am not going into that damned Bunker. I have a speech to give, young man! A very important speech, the fate of the nation hangs in the balance.”

“Yes, sir, but you can deliver your speech on television like always and you’ll live through it.”

“I’m eighty-one years old and none of us, least of all me, is going to live forever. That speech must be given from the West Steps. If I’m not there in the flesh, the nation is lost. Now I suggest you get us moving.”

08:59 HRS, September 2
^nd
, 2071

West Steps of the Capitol Building

The podium at the West Steps was surrounded by a wall of bullet-proof glass that was several feet higher than any speaker standing at the lectern. The open lattice marble balcony that surrounded the lectern had been discretely filled in with large blocks of special armor painted white to blend in with the marble. Nine rows of folding chairs had been arranged in concentric semicircles behind the lectern with a half dozen Secret Service trying to blend in with the rest of the invited guests. Due west of the lectern were the National Mall, Air & Space, and Smithsonian Museums on the south side, and the National Gallery of Art, Natural History, and American History Museums on the north side. In the distance the Washington Monument still stood despite the banks of the Potomac River having surrounded its base due to the rising sea levels. Beyond the Monument just out of view would have been the Reflecting Pool, now a lagoon whose waters advanced well up the steps of the Lincoln Memorial. Immediately to the front of the Steps was a crowd of people gathering to hear the president’s plans for the nation’s future. Many questioned if the nation even had a future.

*   *   *

“What’s the matter, you look as if you’d seen a ghost?” the president asked a startled Senator Pitstick.

The Senator sputtered then collected himself “Should you be here? I mean the explosions and all...”

“If that really was an attempt on my life, then here is as safe a place as any, wouldn’t you say?”

The Senator’s eyes darted about to the left and right several times before he spoke. “Mr. President, really... shouldn’t you be somewhere safer?”

“Senator, I’ll not spend one more minute in that damned hole. If today is my day, then so be it. Now, will you get on with the introduction... or must I do it myself?”

The theme of his speech was that America’s leaders must stop hiding and start leading. He pledged to henceforth conduct the business of the president from the Oval Office, above ground in the light of day where all could see. He did not mention that the Oval Office now had 10-mm thick bulletproof glass or that the thin façade of ordinary wood siding and paint covered thick blocks of special ceramic armor. Another highlight of his speech was the newly operational
SSS Albert Einstein
. He even had a downlink with the space station commander to congratulate her, the crew, and SpaceCorp for bringing back the spirit of initiative so long missing in American business. He finished with an appeal to the people to put aside their partisan differences so that they could have a new presidential election.

“I have been in office too long. I have proven that I can run the country and even survive as long as I stay in my bunker. But a running country and enabling a country to thrive are two different things. We have grown weak and vulnerable, a fact that our enemies have taken note of. Rogue young lions plot to conquer our national pride. We cannot let that happen, America! We must resume our former role in international affairs as the lion king we once were!

“We need every seat in Congress—House and Senate—fully occupied, occupied by men and women who are prepared to make decisions for the good of the nation without fear that the slightest misstep will result in their being brought down by an assassin’s bullet or bomb. We must have an election. It’s too soon to have one this November, but November of 2072 seems reasonable. All parties should select and prepare their candidates. My administration shall preside over the election to ensure fairness and accessibility to all, and to ensure to the extent possible the safety of all candidates. Oh and by the way, in the words of one of my predecessors a century ago,
I shall not seek, and I will not accept, the nomination of my party for another term as your president.
Twenty-four years is enough, especially for one who succeeded to the office. We need to do this, America. And we
can
do it!

“Now you no doubt heard the explosions that preceded my arrival this morning. My Secret Service, God bless ‘em, were ready to wrestle me back into my bunker. But as you can plainly see, I stand before you in the flesh and in spite of the threats of bombs or bullets and the pleadings of the Secret Service. If I can do it, so can you, America. Now let’s get back to work growing our country once more. Thank you, and may God bless the United States of America!”

Applause did not begin for a good five seconds after the president’s closing remarks. Then came a few claps in slow cadence, then more, then total pandemonium as the crowd whooped and cheered while the president remained on the podium waving to them all for the next ten minutes. It had still not subsided when Secretary of State Foster Adams and Secretary of Defense George Potter sandwiched him on the podium to applaud as well. Adams whispered in the presidents ear behind his hand, “We need to get back now. Showmanship 101:
Leave them begging for more
.”

The president waved a few seconds longer, then backed off the podium to begin the long gauntlet of handshakes and backslaps that led back to the Beast.

*   *   *

The Beast had no windows in the passenger compartment. Firing ports had been sealed over with special armor. Instead, it had a bank of small monitors that provided a 360° view.

“Can we go by those explosions?” the president asked.

“Definitely not, sir,” the Secret Service agent in the front seat said. Those areas haven’t been checked out yet.”

“Can’t you get me within a few blocks, so I can get an unobstructed view with the roof cam?”

“We don’t need to, sir. The only routes back to the Bunker must pass by the Hoover building and Sunset Bank. You’ll get a pretty good view from the driveway in front of the South Portico.”

“So it was an assassination attempt?”

“Yes, sir, a thwarted one, but definitely an assassination attempt. Because of that, we’re not going in the South Portico, we’re going to change it up a bit and use the East Wing visitor entrance.”

“Any word on casualties?”

“None, sir. Just structural damage. Debris from Hoover is showing parts of a very high powered sniper rifle.”

The president winced. “Another one of those .50-calibers with uranium bullets?”

“Worse. 20 mm and yes, with depleted uranium bullets.”

“20 mm! How much bigger is that than a half inch?”

“It’s about
⁴
/
₅
of an inch, sir. But a lot heavier.”

“Could it have penetrated this tank you have me in right now?”

“We have no empirical data, but my guess is probably. Assassination technology has advanced another generation, I’m afraid.”

“So will we be forced to put me in something with even thicker armor, and if so, will they up-gun again?”

“Threat studies have shown that 30 mm is a likely upper limit in direct fire weapons. Anything larger and they will have a pretty hard time sneaking it into a firing position.”

“When does it stop, Jim?”

When the president referred to his secret service agent by his first name, Jim opened the sliding bullet proof glass partition that separated the driver’s cockpit from the passenger cabin so he could look the president in the eye. “I don’t know, Mr. President. I wish to God I did, but I just don’t.”

“Did I make an awful mistake, Jim… calling for a new election? Can we defend those people foolish enough to run for office?”

“I don’t know the answer to that either, Mr. President. But I can assure you we will try our best.”

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY

September 8
^th
, 2071

RSRD Plotters at Virtual Meeting

“You want to tell us again just why you let the cat out of the bag, Senator Pitstick?” Senior Senator from South Carolina James B. Kershaw asked.

“I already told you bunch of imbeciles!” Senator Pitstick said. “We wanted that asshole out of our hair… permanently. And if we couldn’t get that, we wanted an election… one that
we
controlled, not him. So after that damned State of the Union Address of his, he managed to put
his
people, not ours, in the driver’s seat controlling the election. What’s more, he’s got everyone thinking he’s only doing his patriotic duty. His approvals jumped overnight to 74 percent! They’re practically in love with him! And may I remind you young guns out there, that before your time, it was damned near impossible for the then Republicans to win a national election for president. The blood-sucking lefties and other foreign whackos have overpopulated the left and right coasts and the whole of the northeast of the nation.”

“We know all that, Aloysius. How does that relate to the laser leak?”

“We are in damage control. We have to show the country things are a lot more chaotic and we are a lot more at risk than he lets on. So we… I… leaked it to the press that the president’s defense department is arming the space stations with laser ground attack weapons. That leak does two things for us. One: it puts him on the defense trying to mitigate that disinformation. Two: it shows the public that he is not in control—he is afraid enough to arm the space stations. And everyone will believe that misinformation after his talking about us being at risk and all.”

“Can that laser do ground attack?”

“Hell, no. The beam will be too dispersed by the atmosphere.”

“But I heard they use lasers on ships to knock down incoming cruise missiles.”

“That’s at short range—maybe five kilometers. It’s a lot different when you’re trying to poke through a hundred kilometers of atmosphere.”

“Well, I’ll give you credit for one thing, Senator. You sure stirred up a hornet’s nest in the press! Liberals got their panties in a knot about needlessly antagonizing the Iranians. Centrists are trying to have it both ways like they always do. Christian conservatives are calling for nationalizing all space assets, and of course by that they mean turn the whole damn defense department over to the church—