The Doctor glared at him. “Mr Sanderson, your political life and position are secondary here,” she snapped. “The President may not recover for some time, if ever. He was not in the best of health when he became President and the stresses on his life only made pre-existing conditions worse. I cannot give you any certain dates on when he will recover and return to his position, but you would be well-advised to assume the worst. The President will not return to the Oval Office.”
Toby watched her stalk off, angrily. She’d misjudged him, although she would have had a point with many of the political aides that clustered like vultures around politicians. Their power and position depended upon their patrons and losing them could mean the end of their careers. In one sense, Toby knew that he would never rise any higher than he had, but in another he knew that it could mean the end of the resistance’s mole inside the White House. And if the aliens had caused the heart attack, they’d ensured that their agent was in position to become President. The country had effectively fallen to them without a shot being fired.
The President had heard the news from Iran when he’d collapsed. SPACECOM might not have any weapons worthy of the name, but they did have effective tracking systems and they’d tracked the weapon launched from one of the alien ships. Analysis suggested that it had been a kinetic weapon — effectively a lump of rock — rather than a nuke, but that was no consolation to Iran. Tehran had been wrecked, millions were dead; the shock was already spreading over the world. Toby wondered just how decent and kind the Galactic Federation would look in the wake of the strike. They’d avenged the death of their comrade a million times over.
Toby shivered as he walked down the hall, heading back to the Oval Office. Jeannette McGreevy would have already been sworn in as President, even though the situation wasn’t entirely clarified yet. Toby knew better than to expect that she would tamely give up her power if — when — the President recovered. She’d spent most of her political life scheming to become President, to wield the power of the Presidency; she wouldn’t give it up in a hurry. With the world in chaos, who knew how far she could go? And in her shoes, the first thing Toby would have done would have been to dismiss Toby. There was no point in keeping the President’s — former President, in her view — personnel aide so close to her. On the other hand, she had already made a play for Toby’s loyalty. Maybe, just maybe, if he licked her ass enough, she’d allow him to stay. She would assume that he was kissing up to her merely to keep his career alive. She wouldn’t understand his true motives. The resistance needed someone in the White House.
Or am I merely trying to justify it to myself, he asked himself, as he stepped through the door. His father had often lectured him on the kind of moral courage demanded from soldiers. The courage, not to charge into the teeth of enemy fire or lay down one’s life for one’s country, but to refuse illegal orders from superior officers. Far too many soldiers hadn’t displayed that kind of courage, his father had warned — and Toby, no soldier, wondered if he was doing the same. But the resistance needed him.
The Oval Office was heavily guarded. Four Secret Service agents stood outside, with more — Toby knew — in reserve. Even inside the White House, they protected their President — and the Vice President who had become President, at least for the moment. The Secret Service was neutral, providing protection to Republicans and Democrats alike, but even that was being called into question. A handful might even be pod people. Jeannette McGreevy had no idea how closely the aliens monitored her, even within the White House. They would know at once if their puppet displayed any independence of mind. Toby wondered, not for the first time, just what they’d offered her in exchange for betraying her country. They might have offered a life of wealth and luxury, or power as Earth’s foremost collaborator to the Galactic Federation? Or… what? Who knew the limits of alien power?
He waited patiently for the agents to search him and then check his ID, even though they knew him by sight. The Secret Service was trained to be paranoid, even if some of the scenarios they ran through seemed uncomfortably like something out of a thriller novel. Toby privately doubted that anyone could disguise themselves to look like a politician and walk into the White House unopposed, but who knew what the aliens could do? And besides, they could turn people into traitors. They might try to slip one of their pod people into the White House.
The agents waved him through and he stepped into the Oval Office. As he had expected, Jeannette McGreevy sat behind the President’s desk, listening with a cocked head to the report from the FBI Director. Toby was mildly surprised that he hadn’t been replaced by one of the pod people — there were several in the FBI — but maybe McGreevy had thought better of allowing someone touched by the aliens into such a high position. Or perhaps she hadn’t got around to mass dismissals and putting her own people into power. She had a wide network of contacts and clients she could promote as she pleased now she was President. They would all be expecting some reward for their loyalty.
“Ah, Mr Sanderson,” McGreevy said. She sounded surprisingly affable for someone who’d only reached her position through chance — or had the aliens triggered the heart attack themselves? “Take a seat, please. I’ll deal with you after I deal with this.”
The FBI Director looked uncomfortable. He had been involved in the resistance after it had started to take on shape, but now his position was in doubt. The Deputy Director was one of McGreevy’s clients. And besides, the FBI was heavily involved in tracking down militia groups and arresting them. It wasn’t making them popular outside the big cities. A number of federal agents had been shot dead under mysterious circumstances, while others had been killed storming houses belonging to suspected militia members. There were too many people out there who thought that they had nothing left to lose. None of them expected a fair trial from the government.
“I’m afraid the news isn’t good,” he admitted, finally. “We were already seeing the beginnings of a vast protest movement against the unwarranted searches, seizures and arrests when the aliens hit Tehran. No matter how we try to swing it, the aliens committed mass murder…”
“Against Iran,” McGreevy snarled. “The one country we hate above all others.”
“The fact remains that the aliens launched a disproportionate response,” the FBI Director said. His expression, if it were possible, grew even more uncomfortable. “That isn’t the main problem. We’re not going after a few isolated nuts. The people on the targeting list aren’t cultists hiding away in barns, but often popular and well-liked people in their communities, people no one believes had anything to do with the incident at the school. Local police and sheriffs have started to refuse to get involved with the raids and I think that a number of them have quietly tipped off our targets that we’re coming for them. A number of BATF agents walked into a trap and were slaughtered.”
He looked down at the table, trying to avoid the woman behind it. “And the photographs and videos from the raids don’t help,” he added. “Everyone has a cell phone with a camera these days and they’re putting the images online. Americans are seeing jack-booted stormtroopers kicking down the door and dragging Americans off without trial. We might be able to justify such force against a handful of criminals, or terrorists, but so far we have targeted and rounded up thousands of people. The country won’t stand for it.”
McGreevy leaned forward. “The country will have to stand for it,” she said, shortly. “Don’t they understand how important this is?”