The Tau Ceti Agenda

November 1, 2388 AD

Washington, D.C.

Sunday, 5:35 PM, Earth Eastern Standard Time

Alexander sat calmly waiting for something to happen. Anything. Another wild accusation from the media or Congress would be better than nothing at all, but sometimes waiting was all that could be done. There was one day left before the election, and he had nothing yet that would allow him to turn the tables on the DNC's impeachment tactic. But he had put out a few calls for help. He just had to wait and see if anyone would answer his call.

Mr. President, your wife is here to see you, Abigail interrupted his solemn moment.

Oh? Great. Send her in.

Sehera sauntered through the door like a tall leggy runway model. Her height was a product of good genes and growing up on Mars, where the gravity was a little less than on Earth. That and the long dark hair and the milky white skin gave her an exotic attractiveness that camouflaged her steely, relentless resolve. She had grown up during some really bad times on the red planet and had developed a toughness and an edge that only hard times could create. But, by God, she was beautiful. Moore watched her slim figure swaying back and forth at the hips as her heels click-clacked one in front of the other across the tile of his office.

"Alexander, you've been hiding all day." She smiled playfully and sat in his lap, kissing him.

"If it ain't one thing it's another. What with running the country, fighting off terrorists, and getting impeached and all." He started to grin, but she punched him on the shoulder before he could. "Ouch."

"You need to spend some time with your daughter tonight. She is still shaken up from all this." She leaned in to nibble at Alexander's ear.

"I will as soon as I finish here. I'm waiting on an important call." He wasn't even sure he was going to get that call, but he was too antsy to think about anything else.

"I know, Mr. President," she said playfully again and then nibbled at his ear again. This time she whispered in it. "You need to go for a run and feed the ducks down at King Street."

"Huh?" Moore was startled by the message and a bit unnerved that it had come through Sehera. Why had she been the courier? It didn't matter. He had the message and knew what he had to do.

"I think a long run would ease your mind, Alexander." Sehera smiled at him and kissed him again. "Be discreet."

She smiled at him, and then as coolly as she had entered the room, she slinked out of it. Once the door latched behind her, he thought about what she had said.

Hell, a long run would make me feel better. Maybe I'll sweat all the rest of the damned stims out of my system.

Yes, sir, Abigail agreed.

Get Thomas and Clay in here.

Yes, Mr. President.

It had taken some subterfuge to keep the press off his back. Alexander had ordered Thomas to send the double out in the limo and take it for a ride. To help out with the ruse, Sehera and Deanna rode with the double. That wouldn't bother either of his girls because Alexander knew that it took a hell of a lot more to bother Sehera, and Dee loved any chance she got to play with BIL.

Once the press was thrown off his scent, he dressed in plain civilian workout sweats, a Redskins sweat-wicking toboggan, cap and his running shoes. Nobody would have recognized him from more than a few meters away. He also had Thomas and Clay dress incognito as well. Thomas met him in the gym in similar gear but had armor on underneath his sweatshirt. The sergeant was wearing shorts and a Marine Corps T-shirt.

"Clay, don't reckon you'll get cool, do you? It'll be fifty degrees out there tonight," Alexander asked the marine.

"Marines don't get cold, sir, they just get angry at Mother Nature for being so damned hard to kill, sir."

"We need to get moving, boys. The limo is going to pick us up in Alexandria, right?" Moore looked at his watch.

"Yes, sir."

"I really don't like you going out on these types of excursions, Mr. President," Thomas told him.

"I understand, Thomas. But under the circumstances, I have no choice."

The three of them slipped out of the White House using various passageways that the Secret Service had kept out of the public eye for centuries. Once they were outside the grounds, they jogged Constitution Avenue westward to Twenty-third Street. From there, they jogged south around the Lincoln Memorial and then turned back west, crossing the Potomac on the Arlington Memorial Bridge. On the Virginia side of the river, they wound through Lady Bird Johnson Memorial Park until they could hook up with the Mount Vernon Trail.

The trail was full of joggers, walkers, and cyclists going in either direction. Alexander led them south past the airport at an even nine- minute-mile pace. They had already covered more than two miles, and Alexandria was still a couple to go.

Abigail, how about some running music?

What mood are you in, sir?

Whatever you think. Just none of that stuff that Dee listens to.

Yes, Mr. President. A modern version of a classic Martian fusion rock song played in his head. Moore hummed along to it, keeping his head down, and focused on his running pace. Thomas was beside him, in the middle of the lane, and Clay was right behind him with each step.

Thirty minutes or so more of the running brought them far enough south that they were approaching King Street. Moore stopped at the docks outside the seafood restaurant and noticed the ducks swimming around in the river.

"Clay, why don't you step inside the food court and get us some sports drinks?"

"Sir, I'd really feel nervous letting you out of my sight," the big marine growled.

"Yes, sir. Clay and I need to stay close to you. This isn't really a good idea," Thomas added. "Mr. President, sir, I am not comfortable at all with this. We really shouldn't be here without backup and prescreening the area," Thomas cautioned as his eyes continually scanned the park to their north and the alleyways on either side of them that led up to the dock and pier at the end of King Street. Alexander could see how nervous the two bodyguards were.

"Relax, boys. Nobody knows we're here or recognizes us, and besides, this is Old Town Alexandria, so we'll be fine. If the terrorists wanted me dead, I'd be dead already. That damned bot Sienna Madira could have blown me up as soon as I got into range of her. And it didn't. Think about it." President Moore leaned against aging-wood safety rails along the pier to watch the ducks swimming in the Potomac. The ducks quacked at each other and swam up underneath him, hoping that he would toss them some breadcrumbs.

"Yes, sir. Never really thought about it that way, with all the shootin' and others getting killed and stuff, sir." Thomas gave a look to Moore that was boardering on being too familiar for a bodyguard's address to the president.

"Sorry, fellas, I've got nothing for you." Alexander laughed at the ducks and wiped at the sweat on his brow. "Now, Clay, go get us some drinks; I'm dehydrated."

Moore kept his back to the two marines-turned-Secret Service and waited. The ducks were entertaining for a few minutes and to some degree even comical. He wished that Dee were there with him to see them. One mallard seemed to be the alpha of the group. Whenever he bullied his green head through the others, they spread out and let him pass.

"There's one in every bunch," he muttered to himself.

"Sir, your drink." Clay held out the bottle.

"Thanks." He took it and twisted the cap off. The cool, green, thick drink went down easily, revitalizing him. He finished off the drink and then tossed it at a black metal mesh garbage can a few meters away. The bottle bounced off the rim of the can and fell to the ground. "Shit."

"Sir, somebody is coming." Thomas nodded his head upriver placing a hand behind his back to his blaster.

"Take it easy, Thomas," the president said calmly.

A man dressed in a rather average-looking suit and tie approached them cautiously. The lighting on the pier was a bit low for the two Secret Service agents to figure out who he was at first.

"Mr. President, I hate that this is the way we have to meet, but we most definitely didn't need any press." The man looked around in a full circle as if looking for cameras. "I almost didn't recognize you. That is a good cover, sir."

"You think so? Hmmm. I dunno, Senator, everybody knows I'm a Skins fan," President Moore replied with a sly grin. "Now let's have it. What is this all about, Hardin?" He held out his hand and shook Senator Hardin Madira's hand familiarly.

"All you need to know is on this patch," Hardin said, handing Alexander a small, flexible memory tab about the size of a dime. Moore took the patch and stuck it behind his left ear.

Abigail, download and store all information from this patch.

Yes, Mr. President.

And go through it all. Get me a summary quickly.

Already working it, sir.

"So what is this going to cost me, Hardin?" President Moore asked.

"My district in Wyoming needs some economic revitalization. With the Martians gone, somebody needs to do the terraforming systems manufacturing. I want it. I'm earmarking seventy billion for it, and I don't want it cut in a line-item veto."

"You think you can get an earmark that size through both houses?"

"I can if you can convince a couple of your brethren from Mississippi to vote with me."

"I can put in a few good words. Maybe twist some arms. Yeah," Moore said.

I've got the summary for you, sir.

Let me see it.

Here it is. Moore started to scan through the summary that Abigail had developed from the data.

"You're giving me the election, Hardin."

"Well, that's politics. You're giving me a reelection in return." There were always several meanings to every political move. Moore would have to watch himself closely around the senator. Who knows what else he might want in the future. But for now, this was good enough. It would take one phone call to Amaka Chi to put a stop to the entire affair.

"Good enough, Hardin," he said, nodding approvingly. "Good enough."