The Flare

The President and the General

“Geb will arrive to the space station one solar cycle before your delegation. It was the only arrangement he would agree to.” Eakobi hissed on the vid-stream.

The Denaaran leader snorted as he breathed. His large, lizard like body huffing the air.

“Normally I wouldn’t agree to such arrangements but there’s only a limited amount of trouble he can cause with the Denaaran delegation present.” President Olivia Kennedy nodded to the head of the ISC. She sat at the Resolute Desk which still graced the Oval Office after 378 years. She wore a fashionable pantsuit, the sleek red color flattering her dark curly hair.

“This is a necessary and easy concession. Remember, the ISC must be unanimous for Earth’s admission.”

“I need no reminder, Eakobi.”  Olivia rubbed her brow, exhausted over how the process of admission had been dragged out because of one straggler. Indeed, the process had taken ten years so far. She had no expectation of the Naronians willingly accepting their admission but had to play the game. Once her people began mining the asteroid belt, the ISC would crack, and Earth would come on board. No reason to start an intergalactic incident in the meantime.

“Acknowledged.” Eakobi hissed. “ISC out.” The vid-stream went blank. Olivia laughed. If he were from Earth, she would consider it a dismissal, but in her experience with the ISC leader, she knew he was a simple man of few words.

Olivia stood and sipped her chamomile tea, watching snow fall outside the Oval Office. Winter was her favorite time of year in Washington DC. Everything always felt so clean and pure when the snow came; considering how filthy a city so rife with dirty deals and maneuverings was, the purity of winter was a nice change. The town was so deep in politics year-round; it always gave her a heartwarming feeling to see mother nature take control, reminding them who was really in charge.

"Madam President, the Secretary of Global Defense has arrived." Olivia's secretary, Mrs. Tayten announced.

"Thank you, Marlie. That will be all." Olivia set her tea on the Queen's desk and took a seat on one of the high back chairs she'd brought in at the beginning of her administration. Olivia hadn’t given one whit about decorating the Oval Office; she’d let her daughter do most of it despite her hesitations. The only snag had been her chairs. She had them since her days as a Junior Stateswoman and refused to give them up despite being coffee stained and scratched.

"No, I don't want any goddamned tea, I want coffee!" Olivia heard General Fattore huff as she entered the office, declining Mrs. Tayten's insistence that tea was much better for the nerves. Tea was better for the nerves, but she knew Irma would refuse it. Ever since their days at Wesleyan, Irma insisted on black coffee, declaring tea made her appear weak.

Olivia understood and sympathized with Irma's need to appear strong in the face of others. Odd that women outnumbered men on Earth four to one and yet they still had to prove their strength. Olivia's mentor, former President Vivian Natano, once told her there could be just one man left on the planet and still every female would feel insecure. Her mentor taught her a very important lesson that day. It wasn't the actual presence of men making women feel inferior, it was a women's perception of their own value in the presence of a man.

"You still drinking that pisswater?" Irma grumbled when Marlie escorted her into the room and shut the door.

"Unlike some of us, I don’t need to drink mud to feel like a toughguy." Olivia laughed, giving the General a hug. "How the hell are you, Irmie?"

The fates had blessed Olivia, allowing her to work so closely with one of her best college friends. They served in the Army together, studied at Wesleyan on the GI Bill and rose through the ranks quickly in Operation Expansion, the military guided transfer of power between Central and Southern America to the United States.

Irma Fattore saved Olivia's life during a small skirmish along the shores of what used to be Cuba, now the 55th state in the Union. Rebels were taking civilian hostages and Olivia made a dreadful error, sending in her platoon too soon. Irma saved her ass, responding when she saw Olivia’s people jump the gun, sending out her men and making sure no souls were lost. The public did not know what happened and both of them preferred to keep it that way. 

"Same as usual, Liv. Too much s**t, not enough TP." They both laughed.

"Good to know we don't have to learn any new tricks," Olivia laughed, letting her guard down.

"Those goddamn Naronians sure do have a stick lodged up their collective asses." Irma grumbled.

"Ah, they're simply scared of losing their foothold. So, what's the plan?" Olivia took another sip of her chamomile, motioning to the chair in front of her, inviting Irma to sit down.

"We're meeting his team at the space station in three weeks along with the Naronian delegation. Hopefully, they won't stand us up this time." Two other less formal attempts at negotiating with the Naronians had resulted in their refusal to meet with the Earth delegation. They always gave a contrived reason for refusing to negotiate.

"I want your best negotiator and the Secretary of State with us. Deb’s one of the best debaters I've ever met." Deborah Bowery, Secretary of State, singlehandedly convinced the country once known as Canada to become part of the United Countries of America. No muss, no fuss. The woman was brilliant, and an ace hidden up Olivia's sleeve.

She thanked God for what Deb had been able to do for them, especially now with their negotiations ratcheting up a level. The last thing she needed was the Naronians citing Earth’s historical lack of uniformity as a reason to deny them further. Separation of cultures, they say, is a sign of weakness.

"Bartholomew reported in last night. Geb's administration is beginning to act up. Something about uniformity as a route to purity. Probably the same old bullshit." Irma rolled her eyes.

"Is he safe?" Olivia often worried about the spy she ordered to infiltrate Naron. Bartholomew was dropped on Naron five years ago. He’d left Earth with the knowledge he may not return but that didn’t stop Olivia from worrying. The intel he'd provided over the last three years had been invaluable in gaining a foothold in their negotiations with the ISC.  hoped She hoped he did not have to pay for it with his life.

"He has yet to be detected, but things are becoming more close-mouthed around the Commander's Assembly. Either something big is about to happen or they don't have a f*****g clue what's going on either."

"I'd bet on option two." Olivia laughed. Geb always played his cards close to the chest. "Has Jackson sent back any intel on the station upgrades?"

Olivia knew something was wrong when Irma began to squirm in her seat and wouldn't look her in the eye.

"What aren't you telling me, Irma?" Olivia put down her teacup and looked her straight in the eye, a silent order to tell her everything.

"Jackson got pulled off the mission last minute. But don't worry, we sent a suitable replacement." Irma took a long swig of her coffee, still not fully meeting Olivia's eyes.

"Who?" She wasn't having any more of this evasion.

"I sent Robertson."

Olivia took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. “Robertson is heading the Ceres mission, Irma. Right?”

Jake Robertson was the most resourceful and fully trained resource the government had. And he was being wasted as a handyman.

"And why is the Ceres mission being put back?” Olivia was afraid she knew why Irma sent Jake out to the station and she was more than upset her old friend let her feelings get the best of her. 

Irma shuffled in her chair, not meeting Olivia’s eyes. “He isn’t worthy of that mission, Livvy. He’s nothing like his father.”

Olivia stared at Irma open mouthed. "This is about your bratty little daughter, isn’t it? What did he do Irma? Give her what she wanted? What upsets you more, that he had s*x with her or that she failed to lock him in?”

Irma pursed her lips, looking guilty.

“Irmie, I know John hurt you. But you can’t punish his son for what his father did.”

“It’s his fault John left me, Livvy.” A tear slipped down her cheek. “If that woman hadn’t got pregnant and told my Johnny it was his when we all knew it wasn’t…”

Olivia grabbed her friend by the shoulders and shook as hard as she could. “Irma, snap out of it!” When Irma’s eyes became shiny with tears, Olivia took her into her arms. “You can’t let a man do this to you, old friend. Especially a man not worth defending.”

“I know. I just…” Irma coughed back her tears and looked Olivia in the eye. “If he lied about being with other women, then what kind of dupe does that make me? What kind of pathetic woman would I be?”

Olivia was glad to hear her friend admit John Robertson wasn’t the perfect god of a man the world wanted him to be. “It would mean you were a woman in love, Irmie. And that he was a bastard not just to you but to Jake’s mother. Imagine what it would feel like watching your mother pine over that bastard of a man.”

Irma shook her head, clearing her face of her grief. “God what a fool I am. There’s no excuse for it. Just every time I looked at him, I saw Johnny…I just hoped, with Cherile, maybe…”

“You hoped the world wouldn’t think as badly of you if he married your daughter. I know. But we need that mission to Ceres, Irma. And it’s a lot more important than your bruised ego. Besides, Jake Robertson may be the world’s most eligible bachelor, but he’s not a bastard like John.”

“You shoulda’ fired me years ago, Livvy. I’m no damn good to you.” Irma turned red in the face, embarrassed over her rash and inappropriate use of power to punish Jake.

“You saved my life, Irma. And you’ve got good instincts…not when it comes to Robertson boys, but in general you’ve never failed me.” Olivia patted her friend on the back, bucking her up.

"Speaking of Cherile, isn't she dating the Governor of Brazil's youngest son anyway?" Olivia laughed.

"Yeah, looks like it could be a good match." Irma shook her head, defeated. "She's willing to put up with his dallying and he's willing to put up with her shopping habits. Shoulda’ put the damn girl in the military academy!"

"No. You and I both know that's not the answer." Olivia smiled at her old friend. Irma was raised in military academies; both her parents died in service to their country leaving her to the whims of the United States government. Cherile’s father was an Air Force officer who was trying to butter his way into Irma’s good graces. When Irma found out she was pregnant she swore never to let her daughter face the cruelties of military life. Cherile had her parents’ ambition but not the steely determination to achieve it herself.

"Yeah, well doesn't mean I shouldn'ta." Irma drawled; her Kentucky accent more pronounced.

Olivia went to the Resolute Desk and poured two glasses of scotch from the cupboard. They both sat, sipping the alcohol, Olivia giving Irma a chance to get a hold of her emotions.

"What are they going to want?" Olivia got down to brass tacks, hoping their painstaking recon was worth it.

"I honestly don't know. Bartholomew says the biggest threat they face is extinction. They're running low on women."

"Why wouldn’t they want us in the ISC? Isn’t our DNA similar?" Joining populations could be beneficiary.

"Bartholomew reports fear of interspecies mingling. Some sort of bad mixup with a planet called Daban when they first joined the ISC. Their DNA is moderately compatible, but we won't know for sure until it's tested."

"So, they’re not interested in trading some citizens, breeding and living happily ever after?"

"Maybe if not for a minor problem loosely translated as the Purity Doctrine."

"Purity Doctrine? Sounds like a water treatment plan." Olivia grimaced.

"I wish." Irma took a gulp of her whiskey. "It's a mandate not to interact sexually with other species. After they got busy with the Daban disease ravaged their workers."

"Makes sense. But that's the best they could come up with? Don't their doctors..."

"They don't have doctors in the same sense as we do. It's illegal for independent examination."

"God, it's like they're stuck in the Middle Ages. They think their god is gonna come down and burn them alive? How they hell could they be so advanced?"

"Yeah, well, in this case it’s Gods. Five of them to be exact." Irma pursed her lips. "And remember how the Zereans still thought their planet was flat? Nothing surprises me anymore."

Olivia groaned. At least when dealing with other countries, they had common ground. Living on the same planet did have its advantages. Sometimes it felt like they were dogs trying to negotiate with cats. Wait. That would probably have been easier.

Olivia shot the glass of scotch down her throat. How the hell was she going to pull this off?