For the fourth time this week, for God's sake, General Monroe was walking the damn mile-long hallways, and she hated it. She hated every minute of it. And yet there she was.
The White House was for presidents, and politicians, she thought, the highborn, not someone like her. Because she wasn't highborn in the slightest. Born and raised in the slums, she was told that time and time again early in her life, so that she wouldn't forget who she was, and how could she. And it might have been the only reason she ever amassed to anything, trying to prove them all wrong. Though the older she'd gotten the clearer it had become they were right actually. She was different. She was a six-star general, yes, the woman in high command. She earned her stripes. She earned her right to be here. And yet actually being here, she couldn't help but feel out of place. These pristine white walls, and plush carpets, and rows upon rows of portraits of genuine royalty, it just wasn't who she was. She was self-made, sure. And she might have been at the top of her career, just as rich and powerful as any of them. But she wasn't this.
Stars or no stars on her badge, she was simple inside. It was in the company of her uncouth low-rank soldiers that she felt at home, not among these fussy white collars. Among these fussy white collars, she felt like a black sheep, even though she wasn't one. And she despised having to constantly earn their respect just to be here. None of her soldiers demanded that. Among them, she could just be who she was. Not here though, not among this calculating crowd.
A deep growl had been working its way up her throat ever since she arrived and it almost escaped now. She stifled it just in time. Growling in a place like this would have been inappropriate. She adjusted her tight-fitting uniform and continued walking.
A swarm of managers, secretaries, and assistants followed her three steps behind. They were trying their best to keep up the pace but they were failing. The General was a big woman. Every step she made was like two of those she left behind. And yet, like a swarm of mosquitoes, they persisted in following her.
When she entered the president's office though, they stayed behind. Relieved, she continued walking.
President Liedenberg sat in a philosopher's pose at his desk, with his eyes closed, meaning to shut himself out from the crowd, something that after two terms of presidency he was now getting good at. Monroe respected that. The room around was abuzz with all sorts of human mosquitoes. At any given moment there was what, something like two hundred people around? No wonder he tried blocking them all out. It was nuts! He couldn't though, lock them out or himself in. He was the president. She approached him surreptitiously.
She wasn't consciously trying to be quiet but she didn't want to disturb the man. He didn't notice her anyway, one way or the other, too wrapped up in his own thoughts. She had to clear her throat several times for him to finally notice her. And when he did, she spoke.
"Mr. President?"
He almost flinched at the sound of her clangorous voice, and his eyes snapped fully open. For a split second, she felt bad for the man. She realized he wasn't meditating with his eyes closed, trying to focus and center himself amid the throbbing crowd, he was sleeping! She'd actually woken him up. And now that she looked closer at him, he did look like he could use some rest.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, and find her but when they did, he seemed glad it was her, not anybody else. On her, he could rely. He could trust her, lean on her shoulder even, for she had broader shoulders than most men, General. And she wouldn't mind. Seemed like he needed that.
He tried saying something but at first, nothing came out. His voice failed him. She narrowed her eyes at him for a split second and he caught that, her studying him, not exactly in a reproachful manner but rather surprised. She didn't mean to but she couldn't help herself. His eyes appeared much redder than they had before, the last time she saw him. And it had been what, forty-eight hours? And now his voice was failing him too. It wasn't a good sign. He knew immediately what she had to say about it all, just by looking at her, even though she wouldn't say it. The pair of them, without any words they understood each other. He cleared his throat hastily, trying to regain composure as soon as possible.
"General!" he exclaimed, in control of his voice again.
"Sir!" she affirmed. He kept looking at her questioningly though, not saying anything. She continued not to say anything either, just because she had nothing to add. And for a moment it seemed like they'd reached an impasse, though they weren't in an argument.
"You've called for me," she said, tentatively. Was his memory failing him too now?
"Yes, yes! Of course," he hurried to say, though not very convincingly.
"Are you feeling okay, sir?" she allowed herself to ask, in a low voice, leaning closer to him, making sure nobody else listened. He looked up at her, suddenly startled. She was towering over him now, making him feel very small. And he wasn't a small man. But General was a very big woman! He thought there was a special kind of beauty in that. Must have been. At least he liked to think that. She wasn't ugly, of course. Not per se. She was just…unusual-looking. But he had a great deal of respect for her, regardless of her looks. Her looks didn't really matter. He just couldn't help himself. He was a man! A straight man. He noticed women. But he also was the kind of man who hated thinking of a woman as being unpleasant-looking.
He remembered, at last, he summoned her.
"I'm feeling fine! I'm feeling perfectly good. Thank you for asking," he sputtered, and at once caught himself in a futile attempt at lying. It would have worked too, if only it wasn't her standing in front of him. She knew better, of course. General was a very smart woman. Who was he kidding? No doubt she already figured everything out for herself. She was like an X-ray machine, that woman. She'd see bullshit from a mile away. And currently, he was trying to bullshit her.
"Who am I kidding? I'm not fine and you know that," he admitted, sighing. How could he be fine knowing what he knew, knowing they were all going to die soon? Her, him, and the rest, which was in the ballpark of eighty-five billion. There were so many goddamned people on this planet, he didn't even know how did it get to this point.
"I'm sorry, sir," she offered. He nodded.
"My wife, she'll be fine. The bitch!" he said, allowing himself to confide in her. "There's probably nothing that could kill her. But my girls..."
He looked up at Monroe, shaking his head woefully.
"I wish I could do something for my girls. Arrange a shuttle or something, get them off this planet. Somewhere safe, you know…Although there isn't anywhere safe, is there, General?"
She glanced around briefly to assess if anyone was looking at them. Nobody was, thank God. The swarm around them was buzzing as loud as it had before. Satisfied, she lowered herself to his eye level.
"I'm sorry about the girls, sir," she said, in a tone that suggested she might not have been. "May I be allowed to make a formal request?"
He nodded, confused.
"Pull your shit together, please!" she intoned, deadpan. "People are watching."
For a moment her directness stunned him. But then again, what else did he expect? He studied her, then he closed his eyes and laughed. It was a good guttural laugh, and it boomed across the room, turning heads and making people look at him. Monroe's face relaxed. It was fine, them looking at him laughing. It was reassuring, at least. It was good for people's morale. Liedenberg nodded to himself when he was done laughing. That was the stuff. He needed that. It was a good thing he called for her when he did. Nobody else would have given it to him straight, not like that. Nobody else would have had the balls. And God knows he needed to have it. Did he forget who he was, in a moment of weakness and discomfiture? People looked up to him, and for good reason. He was the president, nobody else. And there was a privilege to that, but as well the responsibility.
A large radioactive cloud was first detected entering the galaxy as of two weeks ago. Gamma radiation, powerful stuff. Able to destroy life on this or any other planet. It decomposed living things as easily as the human stomach decomposed sugar, dismantling complex tissues to cells, and cells to molecules, and molecules to atoms, and it was snappy about it too. Nobody knew where it came from or why, they'd just been able to figure out its path of trajectory.
And it was Earth.
It was headed straight to it.
The best scientific minds failed to come up with a single good way to stop it. No weapon humans had was powerful enough, no shield was strong enough. No ifs ands or buts, there was nothing. And they couldn't outrun it either, even at light speed, the cloud was just too damn fast. There was going to be no stopping it and no escaping it, no hiding from it, so basically humanity was left with nothing. They were all stuck here, together, with no better option but to wait until they all died.
There was nothing in this world that could have stopped the cloud, not according to scientists. But if one were to believe this strange ancient manuscript that accidentally popped up during the contextual search, and they searched every database imaginable looking for the answer, there was one thing. One thing that could have sure stopped it, allegedly.
"Any news on the spaceship?" Liedenberg asked.
"We had it tracked down, sir. It was headed for Earth as it was written. We've caught a weak radio signal coming from them but it hasn't been decoded yet. They are supposed to enter our planet's atmosphere any minute now," Monroe replied, her expression as impassive as ever. Liedenberg breathed, visibly relieved.
"So it's true then! What was written in the book is true."
"There is no way of telling, sir. But the language they spoke on the radio was confirmed to be identical to the manuscript. The visuals of the spaceship match its description from the book a hundred percent. We couldn't confirm or deny the rest of it. Not yet. But we're working on it."
"I suppose sometimes you just have to believe," Liedenberg said. He certainly seemed to have heard enough to make him believe in the prophecy, whether it was officially confirmed or not, and who would even be able to tell, officially, he wondered. Was there a single person among there who'd be able to confirm such a thing? He guessed not but he appreciated the weight of the world being lifted off his shoulders. He was certain now. It was them, the alien described in the book. And they were coming back to Earth to rescue all its people.
For the longest time Liedenberg couldn't bring himself to believe it, religion not being exactly his forte, but there was no room for doubt now. Having lost hope almost entirely, having exhausted all sensible options, he guessed out of desperation he was willing to believe in God now, or the alien gods, or whatever. But the important thing was they were here now. They came back whether or not the world believed in them.
"Thank God," he breathed. "They came! They came to save us."
The two shared a smile, although Monroe's was much more reserved. She was hardly the kind to believe in fairytales. And then, as Liedenberg watched her put her finger on her earpiece, her smile, or as close to a smile as she could get, disappeared. Her expression grew somber again, the creases in the corners of her eyes deepened.
"What is it?" he asked, his own smile fading away, the tone of his voice hardening. She winced ever so slightly in response.
"We might have a problem, sir."