The White House Rose Garden — Washington, D.C
It was a beautiful summer morning in the capital city. The president of the United States, Joanna Weston, decided that she would hold all her meetings outside in the Rose Garden today, including her luncheon with the newly elected president of the Maldives, Mohamed Yameen.
She had just finished up a short meeting about Operation Hail Storm with General Ford, Jarret Pepper, Eric Spearman and Trevor Rodgers.
The meeting was more of a disaster diversion session than anything else.
The United States had lost a pilot and a very expensive jet fighter in the sortie flown over North Korea. The president was informed by her advisors the pilot had bailed out. He was rescued by Marshall Hail. Currently, the Lt. Commander was aboard the Hail Nucleus.
Marshall Hail had been discussed many times over the last week. Before that time, there had never been any mention of the man. Now, a week later, it appears every conversation she had with the FBI, CIA and NIA was about him.
On one hand, the president was intrigued with Marshall Hail and the offensive drones he had built. But, on the other hand, she was somewhat scared of his drones’ effectiveness. A gun was only as dangerous as the person pointing it, and the same could be said for Hail and his throng of robotic soldiers.
A rose garden has a natural attraction to insects and even birds. During this time of year, hearing a hummingbird flutter around the garden was a common occurrence. Occasionally, two hummingbirds could be seen darting in and out of the colorful blooms. But Joanna Weston had never heard a swarm of hummingbirds like those that appeared to be closing in from behind her. The sound of wind over wings was so loud that she looked up at the birds.
Instead of a bird, contrasted against the organic shapes of flowers, leaves, stems and bushes, she saw an alien-looking contraption. Before she could move, get up or call out for assistance, a flying saucer that had a stick hanging under it flew up onto her table. The president gasped as three appendages, which looked like tiny legs, popped out from under the stick. The glasses got bumped, turned on their sides and rolled across the table. They fell onto the bricks with a crash.
The president pushed back in her chair as the aircraft landed on its thin tripod legs. The stick attached to the legs began to separate vertically. One half of the
stick formed a 90-degree angle and made a cross with the other half. It gave the appearance of an easel or the mast of a ship. The two halves snapped into place with a click. The president began to get up, preparing to run when a familiar voice instructed her to wait. There was a commanding tone coming out of the alien thing-a-ma-bob, and for some reason, the voice calmed her. Instead of running, the president paused for a second and watched a thin sheet of paper unroll from the mast-looking thing. Before it even reached its full length, she recognized the face of Marshall Hail on the flexible LED screen.
A million thoughts went through her head. Had she pissed off Marshall Hail to the extent that he had come to kill her? She thought not, but stranger things had happened in this new and strange computerized world.
She recalled the words she had just spoken to the men at the table. “I am ‘anyone’.”
It was very clear to Weston that Marshall Hail could indeed get to anyone, anytime, anywhere — so why run?
Joanna Weston remained in her chair, tense and unmoving.
She must have looked a sight to Marshall Hail, because he smiled a disarming and no harm, no foul smile before he spoke.
“I’m sorry, Madam President. I didn’t mean to startle you, but we need to talk.”
The president tried to compose herself; instead, she found herself yelling at the flying contraption.
“Mr. Hail, this is highly irregular. You have some nerve, barging in on my day without any notice whatsoever.”
“Well, you did tell me to contact you at my convenience, and this is, well, you know, convenient for me.”
“Too bad I can’t say the same,” the president shot back.
Hail said contritely, “As I already mentioned, I apologize for meeting with you at such short notice, but we have some items we need to discuss.”
The president scooched her chair in closer to the table and began to breathe normally. She looked at the image of Marshall Hail streamed to the screen in front of her. Then something occurred to her.
She questioned, “How were you able to fly in like this and land on my table? From what I understand, White House security has all signals jammed within the confines of the White House property, except for those used by the Secret Service.”
On the screen, Marshall Hail smiled and said, “Yes, you do. But you don’t have light jammed.”
“Light?” the president responded, shaking her head, doing her best to understand Marshall Hail. “What are you talking about?”
“Lasers,” Hail responded. His hand came into view on the screen and he pointed his index finger upwards. “Up there. Do you see the falcon flying above us?”
The president looked up and shielded her eyes, trying her best to focus on the sky. “I see a very large bird flying above us. I don’t know what kind of bird it is.”
“It’s a falcon,” Hail told her. “But it’s not really a falcon. It’s a drone shaped like a falcon.”
“I’m not following,” the president said with a touch of irritation in her tone.
“Well, you are right about jamming all the radio signals on the property, but the falcon above us is communicating with this drone I’m on right now using lasers. My video is being transmitted via a laser that is shooting down from the falcon and being received by this drone in front of you. The drones are virtually locked together with a laser. The falcon above us is — well — out of the range of your signal jammers, and unless you cover the entire Rose Garden with a tarp, you can’t block light, which means that you can’t block my laser.”
The president looked back up into the sky with renewed interest. She watched the falcon — the drone — fly lazy circles above them. She didn’t see any lasers zinging between the two drones, but she understood that lasers could operate at frequencies and hues invisible to the human eye. The president was being bombarded by several conflicting emotions, and she appeared in no hurry to express any of them to Marshall Hail. The paramount emotion she was experiencing was anger. She was mad that Hail had barged in on her privacy in the Rose Garden, unannounced, and had done so piloting a drone. Compounding that indiscretion, Hail had purposely circumvented the White House’s tight security protocols with his pair of interconnected drones. She felt Hail was purposefully flaunting the advanced skillsets of those he employed.
But another emotion that competed and somewhat tempered her anger was that of amazement. After all, Hail had completely circumvented the White House’s advanced jamming system, flying a drone right up to her and landing it on the table. She was both amazed and alarmed. All her senses told her she was not safe. It didn’t take a military expert to point out if Hail could pull this off, anyone with deep pockets and skewed agendas could not only fly a drone on the White House grounds, but also could easily attach a weapon to the contraption. The president thought about that for a moment. Did the future include placing the entire White House and surrounding grounds under a massive bulletproof glass dome? She wondered how much that would cost the taxpayers. It was possible that she might be the last president able to enjoy the Rose Garden. After Jack Kennedy had been assassinated, that put an end to presidents being transported in open convertible limousines. She could see a future when presidents were no longer allowed to walk outside at all, and what a sad time that would be for the nation.