Starcross

Chapter Four - Part ll

Presidential Bunker Underneath White House

Washington D.C.

Late Evening - 4 March 2020

            The decision to strike was almost decided. William Lovett sat at the corner of the large table as members of the cabinet argued the pros and cons of carrying out a retaliatory strike like they had any say in the matter when it was ultimately up to the President alone. Across from the table he saw Burbank sitting there looking devastated. Lovett knew how much he liked the alien race and how the man was the perfect fit as ambassador to between the races, but now no amount of politics would stop the landslide that had begun less than a week ago.

            “Mr. Burbank?” The President asked in his friendly tone that won over so many. “Earlier you said you were the leading expert on the Druidth, correct?”

            “Yes, sir, he is.” Laughlin answered for him. Personally, Lovett didn’t care much for the Secretary of Interior. To him, Burbank would have made a much better Secretary and if this were the Soviet Union Lovett could have arranged that to happen. But it wasn’t so his just remained silent.

            Garrett smiled. “Thank you, Claire, but I was asking Richard.”

            “Yes, sir.” Burbank said at once, most likely to avoid more conflict. “If you recall, I spent quite some time learning as much about our guests-“ SecDef Wheeler snorted. “During the colonization process.”

            “Of course,” President Thomas said like it was a law of the Universe. “Tell me, if this does escalate, what do you know of their fighting capabilities?”

            Perhaps Richard knew this was coming, or perhaps the man was more prepared than the Director gave him credit for, but with a smooth motion took off his glasses and stood up to address the room. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure of their numbers or their weapons capabilities,” Wheeler looked like he was going to say something but a crossed glance from the President stopped him in his tracks. “However, I do know that they are looking at a voyage of nearly nine months just to get here from Vasghyrr. Also, judging from what I’ve learned about their home planet I would go so far as to say that I don’t believe them to be very good at fighting in rural environments.”

            “Why is that?” Wheeler finally asked, more curious than insulting. “Typically, rural combat, whether forest, field, desert or whatever, is the first thing to be learned. Urban combat is typically harder.”

            “Well John,” Richard continued. “Remember that the majority of their planet is one large, continuous city. What little forests are left are reserved for either the nobility or the insanely rich. And I highly doubt that one of them would allow the Druidth Home Army to blow chunks out of their forests.”

            “So you have no idea if their weapons are solid or  energy based?” Wheeler asked, the briefing seemed to have turned into a discussion between the two men.

            “I can answer that one,” Laughlin volunteered. “Since Ae-yok, the Druidth Ambassador, refused to let Burbank learn of their military prowess, I took it upon myself to begin research looking into energy based weapons. The conclusion being that energy based weapons are impossible due to the power consumption.”

            “You did factor in the Druidth’s clearly advanced micro technologies, right?” Victor Larsson, the Chief of Staff, asked.

            Laughlin looked flustered for a moment, looking down and shuffling her papers before answering. “Uh, yes. It seems that through extensive study even their micro tech couldn’t provide enough power for an energy based weapon.”

            Lovett, still silent and watching the exchange, thought that she was lying through her teeth. He was trained to spot certain tells that people give off when they deceive, and even the most highly trained people in the world, which Claire Laughlin was not, couldn’t get rid of all of their tells. Normally, he would have contacted his office about what intelligence they had on file for these so-called thorough experiments but they were currently locked down and in radio silence.

            “Right,” Larsson said. Garrett was quite, looking down at a picture he fished out of his jacket pocket. “Mr. President?”

            On the wall behind the President was an enclosed American flag and a colored light with numbers 1 through 5. Starting from the top, each number was colored differently with White at the top, then Red, Yellow, Green, and Blue. Everyone knew what it was and currently the Yellow light was lit up meaning they were currently in DEFCON 3. Normally they would have been aboard Air Force One but since their adversary was in orbit this time, that step seemed to have been skipped.

            The President Elect, Thomas Garrett looked up from the picture, in a few short seconds his face had changed and where kindness and understanding was shown earlier, it was replaced with determination. “Initiate SNAPCOUNT.”