Ben Bova - Able One

“Not interested? How…?”

The Secretary of Defense enjoyed the play of emotions flickering across the Secretary of State’s face: surprise, satisfaction, anticipation—all replaced by a hard-eyed calculation.

“He’s going to be reelected and neither you nor I will oppose him,” he said.

“Yes, but four years after that...”

“I’ll be too old for it. It’s all yours, my dear.”

“I can count on your support, then?”

Bakersfield thought that in politics five years is an eternity. How can you commit yourself to anything so far in the unguessable future?

“Of course,” he said, knowing the obligation was unenforceable. “But don’t you have more immediate problems to worry about?”

She blinked at him, her thoughts obviously two election campaigns down the road.

“More immediate problems?”

“I don’t think the Chinese will be happy with our shoot-down of those missiles. Do you?”

“Self-defense,” the Secretary of State immediately replied. “We have a right to defend ourselves.”

Defense nodded, picturing the speech she would give at the United Nations. A good platform for her, he thought.

“I suppose you’re right,” he conceded.

“Of course I am.” She smiled as she said it, but it was clear that she meant it with all her heart.

Defense said, “Well, you have a lot of work ahead of you.”

“So do you,” State countered.

“Yes, I know. Get a good night’s sleep, my dear. Big day tomorrow.”

And he clicked off the phone connection, carefully replaced the receiver on the console, rolled over, and swiftly fell asleep.

The President was jubilant as he spoke to his wife.

”They loved it,” he said, a big boyish grin splashed across his face. “I told them we shot down those missiles and they loved it!”

The First Lady smiled back at her husband from the screen set into the bulkhead of the plane’s compartment. “Of course they loved it. You showed them that you’re strong, and at the same time you prevented a war from breaking out.”

The President sobered. “The threat isn’t over yet.”

“It’s not?”

Glancing at his chief of staff, sitting out of range of the First Lady’s vision, the President said, “We’re not entirely out of the woods yet. We’ve got to find out who was behind this attack, why they did it, and what they’re after.”

She bit her lip, as she always did when she was unsure of herself. “But you said they got the soldiers who launched the missiles.”

“Yes, but we’ve got to determine what was behind this business. They weren’t acting on their own, you can bet on that.”

“Oh.” Then she brightened. “But you proved to the whole world that we can shoot down any missiles that they fire at us. That’s important, isn’t it?

Norman Foster rolled his eyes to the heavens as the President replied, “We showed we can shoot down two missiles, honey. Russia’s got more than a thousand and China’s not far behind that.”

The First Lady said, “I thought the real problem was unstable countries like North Korea or Iran. And terrorists.”

“That’s the first problem, true enough. But there’s a lot more to worry about, as well.”

Still smiling, she said, “Well, you’ll handle it. You always do. I’m really proud of you, and I know everybody else in the country is, too.”

“Even the Republicans?”

Laughing, she replied, “Even the Republicans. Most of them, anyway.”

They chatted for a few moments more and the President insisted that the First Lady stay in the White House instead of driving out to Andrews Air Force Base to meet his plane when it landed.

“It’ll be nearly dawn when we touch down. You stay with the kids. I’ll sleep on the plane, don’t worry.”

“I miss you, baby,” she said.

“Me too. See you in a few hours, though.”

“Oh!” The First Lady’s eyes went wide with a new thought. “Listen. You ought to invite the crew of that plane to the White House.”

The President scratched at his chin. “Good idea. There’s civilians in the crew, you know. As well as Air Force people.”

“Even better. Congratulate them personally.”

“Right. Good image.” Smiling at his wife, the President said, “Smart idea, honey.”

She beamed back at him. “Good night, Mr. President. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“Good night, Mrs. First Lady. I’ll be coming to you.”

Foster put his head down and stared at the deck.

Once the screen went blank, the President turned to his chief of staff. “Sorry if we embarrassed you, Norm.”

Looking up at his chief, Foster put on a smile. “Nothing to it, boss.”

The President started to get out of his seat, but Foster put out a restraining hand.

“It’s late,” the President said. “I need my beauty sleep. There’ll be plenty of news media at Andrews when we land.”

“I just want to ask you to think about where we go from here.”

“Where we go?”

Foster rubbed at his eyes for a moment, then said, “What you were talking about with your wife. We’ve got to find out who was behind this attack and what they’re after.”

Arching a brow at his chief of staff, the President countered, “I would think our first order of business is to get our satellites working again. If we can’t fix ‘em, we’ll have to replace them.”

“That goes without saying.”

“I just said it.”

Foster was obviously not in a joking mood. “Those gook soldiers didn’t pull this stunt for the hell of it. Somebody was behind them. Somebody big.”

“The government in Pyongyang? Are they that crazy?”

“The situation team came up with the possibility that China’s behind it all. That’s what this analyst from the NIC has put together as a scenario—”

“China?”

“The NSA representative on the team agrees with him.”

“China,” the President mused. “But why would they do it? Why would they risk a nuclear confrontation?”

“That’s what we’ve got to find out,” Foster said.

Suddenly breaking into a substantial yawn, the President said, “That’s what we’ve got the intelligence agencies for. And the State Department. Now, I’m sleepy. Let’s pack it in.”

But Foster pressed. “You want to hand this problem to the Secretary of State?”

“And the intel people.”

“It’ll put her smack in the middle of the spotlight, you know.”

At last the President understood his chief of staff’s reluctance. “So she gets the spotlight. Don’t sweat it, Norm. I’ve got the reelection sewed up after this. I’m the president who showed the world we can defend ourselves against missile attack! I’m the president who saved us from a nuclear war! The Republicans don’t have anybody who can come close to beating me.”

“But you’ll be giving her a big boost, you know.”

“What of it? She can’t challenge me next year. And four years after that she’s welcome to run for the top. That’s what she’s been after all along, right?”

“Right.”

“So let her have it. After I’ve finished my second term.” He yawned again. “Now I’m going to bed. G’night, Norm.”

The two men rose to their feet. “Good night, Mr. President,” said Norman Foster.

“Christ, I’m pissing blood!” Harry heard Monk’s frightened roar as he sat strapped tightly into his seat in the narrow compartment. Taki Nakamura, facing him, looked startled.

The plane was bouncing, jinking as they bit into the storm clouds. The thumping made Harry’s swollen nose hurt.