Aliena by Piers Anthony

collected a few necessities and piled into the limo. They dropped one year old Maple off with the Smythes, who were glad to have her on any basis. Then it was on to the closest city with a sufficient airport.
    Brom sat beside Aliena and read a novel, not paying much attention. He had become inured to the arrangements available when Aliena was involved.
    They saw the lighted aircraft descending as they reached the airport. The thing was huge. Martha was on the phone, verifying their clearance, and there was no challenge. They drove right onto the runway beside the plane.
    Brom looked up from his book and stared. “That’s Air Force One!”
    “Potus travels in style,” Sam said.
    Now Brom focused and got it. “POTUS—President Of The United States. He’s your friend?”
    “Actually he wants to meet Aliena. He’s glad to do her a favor.”
    So it seemed. They walked across to the airplane and ascended the portable stairway leading to its entrance. No metal detectors, no papers, no fuss of any kind. They were ushered to a comfortable chamber and seated. They fastened their seat belts, and the plane taxied forward, accelerated, and took off.
    “If only flying was always as easy as this!” Brom said.
    “It is with Aliena,” Sam said.
    The plain achieved cruising altitude and leveled off. Brom resumed his book, knowing it would be a long flight. Then a tall handsome man in informal clothing entered the room. Sam rose to meet him, and the two shook hands. “We miss you, Sam,” the man said. He glanced at Martha, who stood politely quiet. “You too, Wallflower.”
    It was the president himself.
    “This is Brom Hudson, Aliena’s husband,” Sam said.
    The president stepped forward to shake his hand. “I have admired your handiwork with the cartoons, Brom.”
    He knew of that? But of course they would have briefed him. Brom remand almost tongue-tied. “Th—thanks, Mr pres--”
    “Potus will do. I’m just a friend.”
    “P-Potus,” Brom agreed.
    “You saved her during the snafu,” Potus continued warmly. “When all was otherwise lost. Not only that, you helped her to flourish. We owe you.”
    The president was actually talking to him! “Uh--”
    “More on that in a moment. We haven’t complete the introductions.”
    “And this is Aliena,” Sam said.
    Potus turned to face her. She stepped up to him and hugged him. “Thank you for the ride, Mister P.”
    “Martha lent you her perfume!” Potus said. “She must like you. Come sit down, stellar envoy; I am thrilled to meet you at last.”
    The president recognized Martha’s perfume?
    They sat facing each other. Aliena seemed a little uneasy. “I did not mean to inconvenience you, Potus.”
    “Oh, go ahead, cross your legs and get comfortable. I’m not going to make a move on you.”
    “Thank you.” She crossed her legs, becoming more comfortable. Brom knew she knew exactly what kind of view she was providing the president, who pretended not to notice. It was the tacit conspiracy of man and woman.
    “You have been very much on my mind,” Potus said. “You represent the leading news event of all time, perhaps. We want to do this right. We are looking toward a coming out about nine months hence. I will introduce you to the public, and you will smile and be humble. I’m sure you know the route.”
    “I do. I must appear as human as feasible, for the Unveiling.”
    “Exactly. We will tell them of Starfish Planet, but you yourself must seem to give that the lie. No one thinks ill of a pretty girl. Perhaps you can sing a song. Maybe that first one you sang in Church, ‘Amazing Grace.’ Even our most bigoted radicals will have trouble hating you then. We’ll get a suitable background ensemble for you, maybe the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.”
    Brom, amazed, realized that the president was serious.
    “That would be nice,” Aliena agreed.
    “Thereafter you will tour the world, with similar presentations in Paris, where you will sing in French; Beijing,