I believed her, since I knew that Serene was also the head of the very clandestine Centaurion CIA made up of troubadours around the world. I was the only person not involved in their operations who knew they existed. Therefore, if Serene said she had proof, we had proof.
“However, some of that proof can never be shared with the general population,” James Reader said. Reader was the Head of Field, a former top international male model, and the handsomest human I’d ever met. In a room full of A-Cs he looked normal, because the A-Cs were truly the hottest people on Earth. So far as I’d seen, they were the hottest people in the galaxy, but I was prepared to find other alien races just as good-looking out there. That was me, always willing to take one for the team.
“Leave the spin to us,” Doreen Coleman-Weisman said. She was the current American Centaurion Ambassador, a job I’d done for what had seemed like far too long and then, the moment I became the First Lady, far too short a time.
She’d grown up in the Embassy, and though her parents had been traitors, Doreen was loyal to Earth and the rest of us. However, she was the best qualified to be doing the Ambassador’s duties. Well, other than one other person.
Richard White was the former Supreme Pontifex for the A-Cs of Earth, meaning their Pope With Benefits. He’d retired to the active lifestyle when my daughter, Jamie, had been born, and he’d been my partner in butt-kicking ever since then. However, due to the events of Operation Epidemic, where one of our most virulent enemies had launched a bioterrorist attack that had killed half of our country’s leadership, White was now the Public Relations Minister for American Centaurion.
White nodded. “Yes, Jeffrey, this falls to us. Doreen and I have been preparing a statement to counter most of this. With the help of the Planetary Council, of course.” He nodded toward the other aliens in the room, of which we had a lot, since the Alpha Centauri Planetary Council had come to visit at the start of Operation Epidemic and literally hadn’t had time to finish their business and leave yet. We liked to keep our guests busy, go team.
The news came back on. “Welcome back. In a related story to the alien flags flying over the White House, our next story deals with the religious summit taking place in Rome right now.” We switched from the bald-faced lying Serious Newscaster to a shot of Vatican City. “We’ve learned that the Pope and religious leaders from all parts of the world are indeed in agreement that they will be encouraging their flocks to join together in order to face the ‘brave new world’ we find ourselves in.”
The Pope was outside along with a variety of other religious leaders, including ours—Paul Gower. Gower had been groomed by White for this position, and he was reasonably comfortable with it these days. He was also Reader’s husband. The camera zoomed in on him. Sadly, it probably wasn’t because Gower was big, black, bald, and gorgeous, but because he was the A-C’s Supreme Pontifex and, therefore, the person getting all the “blame” in this situation.
Sure enough and right on cue, the Serious Newscaster shared his so-called thoughts. “Is the Pope being negatively influenced by the head of the aliens’ religion?”
“Where is this coming from?” Jeff asked. Though this time he wasn’t asking the room at large. He was asking the two members of the fourth estate who had unlimited access to us—Mister Joel Oliver and Bruce Jenkins.
Oliver had been the laughingstock of the media for decades, because he’d insisted that aliens were on the planet. He remained the best investigative journalist going, and these days, he actually had the respect of his peers.
Jenkins was known as the Tastemaker, and he had tremendous influence. He’d been after us in a bad way during Operation Defection Election, when Jeff had been running as Vice President to the late Vincent Armstrong. But events of that particular frolic had made Jenkins switch sides in a very fast and permanent way. Discovering that one of the candidates you’re supporting is an android did that to some people.
“I believe that the answer is simple,” Oliver said.
Jenkins nodded. “Follow the money.”
“Excuse me?” Jeff asked.
The answer dawned on me. “Oh. This station is owned by YatesCorp, isn’t it?”
CHAPTER 2
OLIVER NODDED. “Yes. Recently added into that media conglomerate.”
“Recently as in the last two weeks,” Jenkins added. “You know, right after the attacks on Camp David that we managed to spin well, and the inauguration gala and Club Fifty-One Gratitude Ceremony, which also went far better than could have been expected.”
“Mergers happen all the time,” Elaine Armstrong said. She was Armstrong’s widow and now Jeff’s Secretary of State. As such, she was fully on Team Alien. “Not that I am for one moment suggesting that this isn’t part of a concerted effort against us.”
“YatesCorp is trying to gather as many affiliates as possible,” Oliver said. “And as Bruce pointed out, that’s only started since the last actions against the A-Cs were salvaged.”
“So, Amos Tobin is making his move.” Looked down the table to Thomas Kendrick, the head of Titan Security and one of the newer additions to Team Alien. “Thomas, your thoughts?”
He shook his head. “I realize I used to be sort of ‘in’ with Amos and the others, but I don’t think they ever trusted me fully, since I came over from the Department of Defense. None of this is something I know anything about.”
Based on what had gone on during Operation Madhouse, I believed him. That the others did, too, was confirmed by heads nodding around the room, including Jeff’s. And if Jeff felt that Kendrick was telling the truth, then Kendrick was telling the truth.
“However,” Kendrick went on, “I can guarantee that they want to harm your ward. That, they never tried to hide from me.”
My ward was Elizabeth Jackson, now Elizabeth Vrabel. Lizzie had been adopted by Benjamin Siler, who was the first human-alien hybrid, being the son of Ronald Yates and Madeleine Siler Cartwright.
Yates was the exiled former Supreme Pontifex who happened to be White’s father and Jeff and Christopher’s grandfather. Yates had built a media empire and then some, which was now being run by Tobin.
He’d also been an in-control superbeing named Mephistopheles. Mephistopheles had allowed Yates to die, with the idea that he’d then move to me. But I’d killed Mephistopheles before that could happen. Operation Fugly might have been six years ago, but there wasn’t a day it didn’t find a way to rear its head and add into whatever else was going on.