Thunderbird by Jack McDevitt Page B

and despair most fits.
    â€”Shakespeare,
All’s Well That Ends Well
, 1602
    I T HAD BEEN a long day. President Taylor had attended meetings with a congressional delegation trying to put together legislation to do something about the country’s homeless population, with a State Department team trying to calm rising tensions between Gaza and Israel, and with military advisors pressing him to invest more money in a jet fighter the Pentagon did not need. He’d been called to the Situation Room to decide on a response to another terrorist strike in Syria, and had taken time to speak with some third graders who’d been on a White House tour. Whenever the opportunity presented itself, he’d gotten to a television to watch the events playing out in North Dakota. He was glad Walker was on the job out there. Thank God it wasn’t some political hack in charge.
    Someone knocked on the door. Alice. She looked upset. “Mr. President,” she said, “check the TV.”
    â€œWhat’s going on?”
    â€œAliens, sir.”
    No. Please. He visualized green-skinned creatures wielding handweapons that fired lightning bolts. He grabbed the remote and turned on the television. April was on-screen, describing what she’d seen, creatures that looked somewhat like us but were smaller and were just out walking around. Their features were a bit different, eyes farther apart, ears a bit larger. The good news was that there was no indication they’d realized we were there. And Walker had shown the good judgment to cancel the mission and pull his people out before whoever was over there found out they’d been visited.
    He pressed the intercom. “Alice, get me Chairman Walker.”
    Moments later, his phone sounded. “Hello, Mr. President.”
    â€œHi, Jim. Looks as if you had an interesting day.”
    â€œI’ll tell you, sir. It was a scare. But our people handled it exactly as they were supposed to.”
    â€œThey arrived inside a large building?”
    â€œYes. Fortunately, it was empty.”
    â€œYou’re sure the aliens don’t know we were there?”
    â€œNo, sir. There’s no way to be certain. A few of them were outside the building. We saw them go by through windows. None of them reacted in any way, or seemed to be in a position to see our people. So it doesn’t look as if we were spotted. But there’s a possibility there were surveillance cameras. We have no way to know for certain.”
    â€œOkay. Can you post a few extra security people in the Roundhouse for the next few days?”
    â€œIf the aliens respond, if someone comes back through the link, they’d arrive in the Cupola first. Before they could come here.”
    â€œOkay. How about we put some people in the Cupola then? If we were seen, I want to know about it.”
    â€œYes, sir. We’ve already done that.”
    â€œI can send some marshals and beef things up a bit, if you like.”
    â€œNot necessary, Mr. President.” He hesitated. “Well, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea. Send about a dozen. Okay?”
    â€œYou’ll have them before the end of the day.”
    â€œGood.”
    â€œSomething else, Jim. I think it would be a good idea to clear everyone out of the Roundhouse when you don’t have a mission running, except the security force.”
    â€œI agree.”
    â€œAlso, please notify me if someone does show up. And instruct your people not to behave in an aggressive manner unless they’re attacked, okay?”
    â€œMy thoughts exactly, Mr. President.”
    â€œIs there anything more? Anything you didn’t tell the media?”
    â€œNo. They’ve got everything.”
    â€œAll right. Thanks, Jim. Your people did a good job. And by the way, I have one more suggestion. It would be a good idea to install a destruct mechanism that would enable you to level the place if you need to. I’ll arrange to have my