Red Dot: Contact. Will the gravest threat come from closer to home than we expect? by Eugene Linn Page B
Authors: Eugene Linn
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there anyone here who cannot support these positions?”
Everyone at the table voiced their support. The meeting then turned to critical policies to deal with a potential ET threat, and with the real domestic and foreign policy problems caused by the approach of life from outer space. After a brisk and subdued discussion, Council members agreed to be ready to meet again if D9 pulled another shocker, or if code breakers were able to decipher the meaning of a message from the aliens.
Douthart carried his notes and briefing books back to the Oval Office. Turning to sit at his desk, he saw the Vice President, Secretary of State, and his Chief of Staff, Aaron Tejeda—three of his closest confidants—following him.
“So, what is this, an intervention?” he asked.
“Yes, sir, we’re here to get you to cut back on Diet Coke,” Duggard said.
The joke cleared some of the tension in the room, but then Tejeda blurted out, “We’re worried about you, Mr. President.”
Duggard and Whiteton were taken aback; they had planned to ease into the delicate subject. But they weren’t too surprised, because they knew Tejeda, a brainy Yale grad, wore his heart on his sleeve. Anyone in the White House collecting money for a person in need knew they could count on the skinny, bespectacled presidential aide.
At first, Douthart was annoyed. “Well this isn’t your ordinary problem, but being President isn’t easy,” he said. But after looking up and seeing hisfriends looking at him with concern, he slumped forward to lean on the desk. “It’s tough,” he said, settling an unfocused look on an open spot on the desk a few feet in front of him. “But what’s the choice?”
“We understand, Al,” said Duggard, leaning on the desk to be closer to the President. “And you’re doing a terrific job under very hard circumstances.” She glanced at Whiteton and Tejeda, who both nodded vigorously. “And you must know we’re here for you. Your whole staff would do anything for you.”
“But we don’t want you to be blindsided,” said Whiteton. “You know you can’t trust Fitzgerald, right?”
Douthart leaned back in his chair and his cheeks puffed out as he exhaled a breath of air. “I know. And I know there are some things brewing that are too toxic even to discuss at the NSC,” he said, fixing his eyes again on the vacant spot on his desk. “I know there’s talk that I can’t handle the job, and talk of impeachment.”
“Geez, Mr. President, Al, every President has faced that crap,” said Tejeda.
“True. But there’s also starting to be talk of a military coup—maybe not full-blown, but something to force me to give the military more say in decision-making.”
After a pause, Whiteton said, “But I think General Peoples is reliable, even though he disagrees on the DEFCON issue.”
“Fucking DEFCON,” muttered Douthart. “Excuse me. I think you’re right. General Peoples is a stand-up guy. He’ll do his duty as Chairman. But other parts of the military maybe aren’t so reliable, especially if they think there’s someone at high levels of government representing them,” he said, thinking of Fitzgerald.
“Look, Al, you’re doing a good job,” said Duggard. “No one can handle all these problems, no one. Just keep doing the best you can and remember you’ve got a lot of help here.”
“Absolutely,” said Whiteton as Tejeda nodded his head.
Duggard stood looking at Douthart for a couple seconds as if debating what to do, then walked around the desk to give him a quick hug, followedclosely by Tejeda. Whiteton came up to shake the President’s hand. Then they turned to leave.
The three had been out of the Oval Office only a few seconds when Duggard came back in and walked up to the President’s desk. “One more thing, Mr. President.”
“Uh oh.”
Lowering her voice, Duggard said, “You and that hot NASA scientist need to get a room.”
“Oh, come on,” Douthart said with a chuckle. Then
Everyone at the table voiced their support. The meeting then turned to critical policies to deal with a potential ET threat, and with the real domestic and foreign policy problems caused by the approach of life from outer space. After a brisk and subdued discussion, Council members agreed to be ready to meet again if D9 pulled another shocker, or if code breakers were able to decipher the meaning of a message from the aliens.
Douthart carried his notes and briefing books back to the Oval Office. Turning to sit at his desk, he saw the Vice President, Secretary of State, and his Chief of Staff, Aaron Tejeda—three of his closest confidants—following him.
“So, what is this, an intervention?” he asked.
“Yes, sir, we’re here to get you to cut back on Diet Coke,” Duggard said.
The joke cleared some of the tension in the room, but then Tejeda blurted out, “We’re worried about you, Mr. President.”
Duggard and Whiteton were taken aback; they had planned to ease into the delicate subject. But they weren’t too surprised, because they knew Tejeda, a brainy Yale grad, wore his heart on his sleeve. Anyone in the White House collecting money for a person in need knew they could count on the skinny, bespectacled presidential aide.
At first, Douthart was annoyed. “Well this isn’t your ordinary problem, but being President isn’t easy,” he said. But after looking up and seeing hisfriends looking at him with concern, he slumped forward to lean on the desk. “It’s tough,” he said, settling an unfocused look on an open spot on the desk a few feet in front of him. “But what’s the choice?”
“We understand, Al,” said Duggard, leaning on the desk to be closer to the President. “And you’re doing a terrific job under very hard circumstances.” She glanced at Whiteton and Tejeda, who both nodded vigorously. “And you must know we’re here for you. Your whole staff would do anything for you.”
“But we don’t want you to be blindsided,” said Whiteton. “You know you can’t trust Fitzgerald, right?”
Douthart leaned back in his chair and his cheeks puffed out as he exhaled a breath of air. “I know. And I know there are some things brewing that are too toxic even to discuss at the NSC,” he said, fixing his eyes again on the vacant spot on his desk. “I know there’s talk that I can’t handle the job, and talk of impeachment.”
“Geez, Mr. President, Al, every President has faced that crap,” said Tejeda.
“True. But there’s also starting to be talk of a military coup—maybe not full-blown, but something to force me to give the military more say in decision-making.”
After a pause, Whiteton said, “But I think General Peoples is reliable, even though he disagrees on the DEFCON issue.”
“Fucking DEFCON,” muttered Douthart. “Excuse me. I think you’re right. General Peoples is a stand-up guy. He’ll do his duty as Chairman. But other parts of the military maybe aren’t so reliable, especially if they think there’s someone at high levels of government representing them,” he said, thinking of Fitzgerald.
“Look, Al, you’re doing a good job,” said Duggard. “No one can handle all these problems, no one. Just keep doing the best you can and remember you’ve got a lot of help here.”
“Absolutely,” said Whiteton as Tejeda nodded his head.
Duggard stood looking at Douthart for a couple seconds as if debating what to do, then walked around the desk to give him a quick hug, followedclosely by Tejeda. Whiteton came up to shake the President’s hand. Then they turned to leave.
The three had been out of the Oval Office only a few seconds when Duggard came back in and walked up to the President’s desk. “One more thing, Mr. President.”
“Uh oh.”
Lowering her voice, Duggard said, “You and that hot NASA scientist need to get a room.”
“Oh, come on,” Douthart said with a chuckle. Then
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