Read Online Final Assault by Dean Wesley Smith, Kristine Kathryn Rusch - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dean Wesley Smith, Kristine Kathryn Rusch
Tags: SF, Space Opera
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become even more of a disaster, you might want to load the speech as is onto the TelePrompTer and make sure that everything’s ready across the hall.”
“Shit,” Aldrich said again, and ran outside.
One of the speechwriters looked at Mickelson. “That’s diplomacy?”
Mickelson grinned. “Hell, no. That’s passing the buck.”
He left the Roosevelt Room with its heat and smelly floral arrangement and crossed the wide hallway into the Oval Office. He had only seen the office like this once before, on June 15, the night that President Franklin made his famous “We Have Risen Up in Self-Defense” speech.
That speech, Franklin had believed, would be the defining moment of his career. At the time, Mickelson had agreed. Now, he thought that tonight’s speech was more important.
No one had expected the world to erupt into so much chaos. Well, he hadn’t. Tavi Bernstein, the director of the FBI had warned that this would happen on an internal level. She had predicted the bombing of the Capitol Building, too.
He slipped into the far side of the Oval Office, near the white couches where he had been during so many meetings. The other advisers stood near the walls, as they had during the Rise Up speech. Vid reporters from dozens of networks had set up on the space between the partners desk and the couches. The eagle emblem of the United States, with the words E Pluribus Unum, was completely hidden beneath expensive shoes.
Someone had placed lights around the front of the partners desk, and Grace had closed the drapes. Next to the American flag were flags of the European Union, the African Nations, Russia, and several other countries. That had been Mickelson’s idea. He wanted a visual symbol that Franklin was speaking for all of them.
The vid reporters with their tiny handhelds and their chip-sized mikes, tried to be inconspicuous while they waited. The only person who was missing was Franklin. How could he have disappeared so quickly?
Mickelson scanned the room. Aldrich entered through one of the side doors. Lopez was missing, too. Maybe Franklin had pulled that little stunt in the Roosevelt Room just so that he could get this started on time.
Either that or he was in his study, rewriting the speech himself.
Mickelson cringed inwardly. He was as worried about this speech as Franklin was, maybe more so. Mickelson had been all over the world in the last few weeks, and he knew that everything was close to boiling over. And now the riots and the unrest that had started since the announcement that there were alien ships returning was like the steam that appeared before a volcano erupted.
Franklin’s speech would either contain the eruption or force it to happen tonight. Mickelson hoped that Franklin could channel all that pent-up energy and direct it where it needed to be—against the aliens.
Perhaps that was why they were all tinkering with the speech, because they all knew how important it was, and how hard it would be to get it right. Perhaps that was what had irritated Franklin the most. Ultimately, this moment was his.
The door from the president’s study opened and Grace Lopez entered. She was a small dynamo making her way into the fray. She beckoned Aldrich, who joined her. As they walked, she whispered something to him. He nodded. They stopped in front of the partners desk and she held up her hands, the sign for silence.
Mickelson smiled. Except for whispered conversation, the room had been silent. No one had dared talk—it was as if the night were too solemn for even casual conversation.
Surprisingly, it was Aldrich who spoke. “The president will be here in a matter of moments. He will make his speech and then leave. There will be no time for questions. This is not the place for them.”
Mickelson heard some groaning from the press, but no one raised a hand and asked for the policy to be changed even though Aldrich seemed braced for that. Lopez was watching the door to the president’s study.
“Shit,” Aldrich said again, and ran outside.
One of the speechwriters looked at Mickelson. “That’s diplomacy?”
Mickelson grinned. “Hell, no. That’s passing the buck.”
He left the Roosevelt Room with its heat and smelly floral arrangement and crossed the wide hallway into the Oval Office. He had only seen the office like this once before, on June 15, the night that President Franklin made his famous “We Have Risen Up in Self-Defense” speech.
That speech, Franklin had believed, would be the defining moment of his career. At the time, Mickelson had agreed. Now, he thought that tonight’s speech was more important.
No one had expected the world to erupt into so much chaos. Well, he hadn’t. Tavi Bernstein, the director of the FBI had warned that this would happen on an internal level. She had predicted the bombing of the Capitol Building, too.
He slipped into the far side of the Oval Office, near the white couches where he had been during so many meetings. The other advisers stood near the walls, as they had during the Rise Up speech. Vid reporters from dozens of networks had set up on the space between the partners desk and the couches. The eagle emblem of the United States, with the words E Pluribus Unum, was completely hidden beneath expensive shoes.
Someone had placed lights around the front of the partners desk, and Grace had closed the drapes. Next to the American flag were flags of the European Union, the African Nations, Russia, and several other countries. That had been Mickelson’s idea. He wanted a visual symbol that Franklin was speaking for all of them.
The vid reporters with their tiny handhelds and their chip-sized mikes, tried to be inconspicuous while they waited. The only person who was missing was Franklin. How could he have disappeared so quickly?
Mickelson scanned the room. Aldrich entered through one of the side doors. Lopez was missing, too. Maybe Franklin had pulled that little stunt in the Roosevelt Room just so that he could get this started on time.
Either that or he was in his study, rewriting the speech himself.
Mickelson cringed inwardly. He was as worried about this speech as Franklin was, maybe more so. Mickelson had been all over the world in the last few weeks, and he knew that everything was close to boiling over. And now the riots and the unrest that had started since the announcement that there were alien ships returning was like the steam that appeared before a volcano erupted.
Franklin’s speech would either contain the eruption or force it to happen tonight. Mickelson hoped that Franklin could channel all that pent-up energy and direct it where it needed to be—against the aliens.
Perhaps that was why they were all tinkering with the speech, because they all knew how important it was, and how hard it would be to get it right. Perhaps that was what had irritated Franklin the most. Ultimately, this moment was his.
The door from the president’s study opened and Grace Lopez entered. She was a small dynamo making her way into the fray. She beckoned Aldrich, who joined her. As they walked, she whispered something to him. He nodded. They stopped in front of the partners desk and she held up her hands, the sign for silence.
Mickelson smiled. Except for whispered conversation, the room had been silent. No one had dared talk—it was as if the night were too solemn for even casual conversation.
Surprisingly, it was Aldrich who spoke. “The president will be here in a matter of moments. He will make his speech and then leave. There will be no time for questions. This is not the place for them.”
Mickelson heard some groaning from the press, but no one raised a hand and asked for the policy to be changed even though Aldrich seemed braced for that. Lopez was watching the door to the president’s study.
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