"Very good, yes, me too."
Evan’s assertion puzzled D’Trayne. "But you speak of this democracy; of the rights of every person. Do you hide your true feelings on this?"
Evan shared his vision of democracy: "Oh, Chancellor, you may be hot stuff back on your world, but your style wouldn’t last a day here in America. Sooner or later the rabble in California was going to rise up and kick you and Governor Malloy out."
D’Trayne snapped, "The people of California accepted their place."
"Really? Is that why garrisons switched sides once Trevor invaded? Is that why people working on your stealth field generator project slipped us all the info we needed to take it out so fast? No, Chancellor, the people of California accepted their place for a short time, but eventually they would have tossed you out on your silver ass."
D’Trayne’s voice trembled in the slightest, struggling to remain calm as he said, "You speak in riddles, President Godfrey. What is it you are trying to say?"
Evan enthusiastically embraced the opportunity to teach.
"Democracy is a wonderful thing when it’s managed properly. You must give the people the freedom to vote in or vote out whomever they wish. They must be completely vested in the system for only then will they accept the results of that system." "I see. So you paint an illusion of democracy and then control it. A deception, it is?" Evan laughed at the Chancellor’s failure to comprehend. "No, no. There is no illusion. No deception. Real freedom. Real opportunity for all." The alien shook his head in both confusion and frustration. "But you said you believed in a ruling class. Your riddles are no clearer."
"The cream rises to the top, Chancellor. Democracy is like a free market economy. Intelligence and money slowly but surely separate the ruling class from the masses."
"Money? You buy elections?"
Evan threw an arm around the taller Chancellor and they walked again.
"Sort of. You buy marketing and public relations. You fine tune your message. You poll the people to get inside their heads. Along the way the best and brightest rise to the top, not because of deception or illusion but because they reach the people, earn their votes, and do what’s best for them even if those same people don’t know what’s best for them."
"I see."
"No, you don’t. But that’s okay. You just have to do what I need you to do."
Evan led the Chancellor into the Oval Office. The new President had spent an hour there earlier posing for photos and greeting VIPs. Now, with everyone gone, he could truly take possession of the office; to make it his.
An American flag stood in one corner next to a black and silver flag depicting a hand holding a musket, one of the many icons of The Empire and a necessary prop for the photographers, but he knew that flag would not remain much longer.
A pair of Doberman Pinchers stood sentry just inside the door to the office. The President stopped, eyed the two canines, and then ordered, "Get. Get out now. Go."
The confused dogs wavered for a moment before trotting into the reception area. Evan closed the door and circled to his desk. He faced the windows there and gazed out at sunset over the south lawn. He saw much more than the grounds of the White House; he saw the nation he had gained possession of. "What is it you need me to do, Mr. President?" "Ah, yes. Well, it’s not just for me, it’s for both of us. We share a common problem." "And that is..?"
"The Imperial Military, of course. The war mentality Trevor spent so much time instilling in the people remains, despite how wary of fighting the average person is."
"Mr. Stone, it seems, was a great leader."
Evan pivoted fast and lost his composure for two quick seconds before realizing D’Trayne had baited him.
"No! He was full of ego and self-importance. He would do anything to hang on to power! He knew nothing of leadership, only how to wage war."
D’Trayne smiled in the slightest. His pupils flickered green.
Evan turned the tables on the Witiko: "Let us speak honestly, Chancellor. The Imperial military handed you your collective asses with only three dreadnoughts. I am no fool, D’Trayne. I know there are powers out there guiding this invasion. I know how desperately the aliens who are here want to stay here. Like I said, I think this was a one-way ticket for all of you. I think you don’t want to go home because going home would not be good for your career or your life. Whether you face dishonor or death is no concern to me, but I believe the other alien races are in the same situation."
D’Trayne said nothing.
"Imagine, now, a dozen dreadnoughts, or more. That’s what the military wants, you know. And there will be pilots to fly them and crews to man them because our military academies are overflowing with volunteers. Every day that passes our engineers adapt more alien technology for our uses and our economy grows more diverse and powerful."
"And now you command those armies, Evan. I thought you were against the war."
"I look at the map and I see our armies on the west coast, the cities of the north occupied and fortified, and an early-warning detection system along the Atlantic. With the Centurian base in Mexico destroyed, so to speak, the south is secure for the foreseeable future. I see a nation with strong borders and armies capable of defending those borders. America is one nation again." Evan reconsidered and waved a dismissive hand. "Except, of course, for Hawaii and Alaska, but that’s splitting hairs."
D’Trayne asked, "So why is the military my problem and yours?"
Godfrey glided over to an antique globe in the corner and gave it a spin.
"It’s your problem because that military is now capable of projecting power far beyond our borders. I’m sure you heard that General Brewer took the Excalibur to South America last year. What’s to stop the military from sending a fleet of dreadnoughts across the Atlantic or the Pacific or over the North Pole into Russia or China? They could drop an armored division in…" he peered at the globe, "…Siberia or run a massive, sustained air campaign into west Africa."
"Perhaps you over estimate your capabilities," D’Trayne sneered.
"Perhaps. But do you think the military knows its limitations? No, D’Trayne, there are too many Generals who savor the idea of fighting for every square inch of this planet. Tell me now, do the other alien races look forward to facing dreadnoughts and gunships?"
When D’Trayne did not respond, Evan answered for him, "No, of course not."
"How is your own military a problem for you, Mr. President?"
"I told you that the cream rises to the top in democracy. With a well-tuned message, a good campaign, and the proper amount of spending, the right people eventually earn their way into positions of authority. This, of course, is good for everyone. But war changes that, Chancellor. The people rally around flags and bravado, instead of reason and ideals."
"Are you saying, Mr. President, that the people see through the political campaigns when they feel more important issues call?"
Evan gnashed his teeth and responded, "I’m saying that the masses can be distracted. Their blood boils. They make short term decisions and lose sight of the common good."
"And if you are at war you feel your military is a threat to your Presidency?"
"My ascension to power has not been without… controversy. Over the years my… idealism has created unease in the military and intelligence communities. There are those who might feel that the alien threat could justify the removal of civilian leadership."
"Are you not in the process of handling this threat? Is that not why you need the assistance of my officers and ships?"
"For one particular threat, yes, but that does not change the entirety of the situation."
The Chancellor followed Evan’s thinking: "So as long as this war continues, races such as mine will face a human war machine that will continue to grow stronger and you will face the constant threat of being overthrown and replaced."