The Tau Ceti Agenda

October 31, 2388 AD

Sol System

Tampa, Florida

Saturday, 7:17 AM, Earth Eastern Standard Time

The marines had formed up around the presidential limo and finally led the First Family to safety out of the madness that had ensued at the Magic Kingdom. Something had taken over all of the AIs within the entirety of the Walt Disney World Orlando property as well as several lakes and businesses surrounding it. But the president had made it to safety.

Several bot-mode FM-12s trotted along beside the limo, while others in fighter mode and eagle mode followed above at treetop level. The marine mecha had led the hovercraft down Interstate 4 at over two hundred kilometers per hour until it met up with a Starhawk that picked them up and then flew them the rest of the way into MacDill Air Force Base and the U.S. Special Operations Command headquarters.

Lieutenant General Howard Brown met the First Family personally as they landed on the lifter pad just outside the main HQ in the center of the USSOCOM pentagon. The joint forces of the special ops squads stood guard in FM-12s, along each apex of the exterior pentagon. The marine squadron of FM-12s that had protected the president stood at attention in bot mode, surrounding the Starhawk in a circle and looking outward from it.

"Mr. President! It is very good to see you in one piece, sir!" The three-star general offered President Moore a hand, then likewise to the First Lady and their daughter. The battered and haggard-looking Secret Service agents took up positions around them as they walked down the rear ramp of the troop carrier.

"General," Moore nodded. "What the hell is going on?"

"Let's get you inside, Mr. President."

"The First Lady and your daughter are getting cleaned up, and we're having a doctor look at Dee's arm. They are just a few doors down if you need them, sir," Thomas whispered into the president's ear.

"Thank you, Thomas." Moore nodded. The young marine had been battered to hell and back, and he was still not faltering and not budging from the president's side. Thomas blended into the woodwork and stood at the ready quietly with his back against the wall. Moore sat back in his leather chair in the general's conference room and sipped at the coffee that the Army lieutenant colonel had just brought him. "Mmmm. Needs sugar, and how about some breakfast in here."

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir."

"General, there is a transmission going out over the news services that I think we need to see, sir!" A full-bird Air Force colonel rushed into the conference room and started tapping controls on the projection system.

A wall holoscreen jumped to life with the Earth News Network logo emblazoned across the bottom with the ticker-tape newslines running at a speed reader's pace. The scene playing was from somewhere inside the Disney World Magic Kingdom amusement park that looked like the inside of the White House.

"Been there," Moore said.

"Uh, yes sir. That is the Hall of Presidents at Walt Disney World as best we can tell. It gets really interesting in just a minute," the Air Force colonel replied. The general leaned back as he sipped his coffee and nodded at the colonel approvingly.

Several AI-driven dead presidents walked into the view. Two of them were dragging a woman kicking and screaming at them the whole time. George Washington and Theodore Roosevelt took flanks on either side of her. Each of them was holding a railgun pistol. At that point, several other dead presidents filed in behind. Each set of two presidents were holding a human against their will.

Then another figure walked in behind the crowd. Like a sea parting, the dead presidents pulled their hostages aside to allow Sienna Madira, the one hundred and eleventh president of the United States, to walk through. The AI-driven amusement park robot looked just like the former beloved president. The Madira likeness walked deadpan and expressionless up to the woman in front between George Washington and Theodore Roosevelt. With robotic efficiency and coldness, the Sienna Madira bot pulled up a pistol, held it to the young woman's head, and pulled the trigger.

"Oh shit!" Moore said startled. He sat his cup down and leaned forward.

"Yes, sir," the general agreed.

Blood splattered out of the back of the woman's head and onto a screaming man behind her. The dead presidents let go of the body, and it fell limp with a thud to the floor behind Madira as she turned around.

"Greetings infidels," Sienna Madira said. "The United States of America simply decided to ignore the fact that the Martian underclass has suffered for ages since your so-called great leader President Sienna Madira drove us to the Reservation. We left your space four years ago, but we have not forgotten what was done to us. We only wish to be left in peace, out of the reach of your evil government and far from the reach of its tyranny.

"We truly believe that the congress and senate and the people of the Sol System wish to leave us alone for the most part. But. But . . ." The Sienna Madira robot shook its head for dramatic effect. "But your executive leadership has continued to threaten and coerce the peace- desiring members of your government toward military buildup. You still continue to build up your supercarriers and your squadrons of mecha and armored vehicles. I ask you this. If there are no longer any of us Martians, true Americans, left in your system, then what are you building up your military might for?" The robot paused for a brief moment.

"I will tell you. Your President Alexander Moore is preparing to attack the Separatist refugees. We fled your system so that we would no longer have to interact with you. But if you continue to allow this criminal of war to track us across the stars and hunt us down like animals, we will respond in kind." The robot nodded at Garfield and Carter, who in return dragged another human in front of her. The Madira likeness raised her pistol and blasted the poor man in the side of the head. More screams filled the background as the man's body collapsed to the floor.

"There are over twenty thousand employees of the Disney World complex that we have taken. We will kill one of them every minute until you hand over this war criminal to us. Hand over President Moore, and the shooting will stop. Until then, the body count will continue to rise. We will wait for the criminal, Moore, to be dropped by himself outside the Hall of Presidents. At that point, all hostages will be freed, and we will then take the criminal with us back to be tried by Her Majesty, Elle Ahmi." Again, the robot paused for a brief moment as another human was pulled forward.

"There is one more thing. There is a gluonium bomb right here," the bot pointed at her stomach. "The bomb is large enough to remove the entire Disney World complex from the face of this planet, as well as several of the outlying areas. Do not attempt an attack, or we will detonate the device. Do not attempt to evacuate the surrounding cities and homes, or we will detonate the device. Give us the criminal Moore, and all will be fine." The bot raised its hand and shot a third victim between the eyes and then the transmission was cut.

"Jesus, fucking, Christ, Almighty, God!" Moore spat. Abigail, start a clock and keep a body tally for me.

Yes, sir.

See if you can find out any more data on how these damned amusement AI things work.

Absolutely, sir. Good idea.

And don't forget Ahmi's modus operandi, the AI kitties and all that.

Yes, sir. All of her technical history is relevant here.

"Yes, Mr. President, those are my sentiments exactly."

"How the flying fuck did they get all this put in place without anybody knowing about it?"

"I don't know, sir. Perhaps that is a question for the CIA and the DNI." The general nodded again to the Air Force colonel at the end of the table, and she tapped away, bringing up a new scene that showed a classified dossier of a spec ops team in armored e-suits training. "Sir,

I've got JFCOM team three and SEAL team four in place and ready to take action. I can send them in immediately at your order to take those bastards out and commandeer that bomb."

"General, those damned fairy-tale things gave a full squad of FM- 12 Marine strike mecha a hell of a hard time with no telling how many casualties. I think that sending in more meat for the grinder would be a bad idea." Moore's face grew grim, and his eyes began to burn with a vengeful rage.

"Any suggestions then, Mr. President?"

Moore slammed his fist down against the table and started laughing maniacally. He stood and paced back and forth, cursing under his breath and kicking a small trash can across the room. He had been fighting and running from that bitch for thirty years it seemed like. That goddamned Elle Ahmi had captured and tortured him almost to death at the Martian Desert campaigns, and had it not been for Sehera springing him, he'd have probably been among the thousands of soldiers that had been tortured to death. He had struggled with all his might to get away from the damned Separatist forces during the Martian Exodus. He had done all that he could to get his family away safely while that crazy bitch tried her damnedest to blow up Mons City. And then today, his family vacation had been turned into a crazy nightmare that would probably scar his adolescent daughter for life. Moore was tired of running. He was tired of the Separatists, and he was, by God, tired of Elle Ahmi! It was about fucking time that Major Moore did something about it if President Moore couldn't.

"Get Gail Fehrer and Calvin Dean on the line, now. And get me a communications link to that crazy robot, ASAP." Moore picked up his coffee cup, poured sugar from the bowl until it was empty, and then killed the oversweet mixture quickly. The hot, strong flavor burned his throat and sinuses as he forced it down. The last few teaspoons of the coffee oozed from the sugar settled at the bottom of the cup. Moore finished it all. "This isn't strong enough. Make another pot using the full bag of coffee and get me some energy bars, stims, immunoboost, and painkillers. And an AEM suit loaded for goddamned polar bears, fairy-tale creatures, dinosaurs, and crazed fucking robot dead presidents. Now!"

"Mr. President?"

"I'm all the way in Tampa! For the love of God, stop the killing! I'm coming. I will be there in thirty minutes or less!" President Moore pleaded with the crazed AI that was controlling the dead president on live television. News station ENN had pulled the feeds from a video- conferencing system in the general's conference room and was playing the feed live. The video image from the robot was being fed off of a holoscreen.

"I am pleased that you have decided to surrender yourself. And as stated before, we will gladly stop killing the hostages once you have landed, alone." The robot's cold eyes stared through the screen at Moore, and the heartless reply was obviously part of the programming for the damned thing. Moore ground his teeth together, flexing his jaw muscles tensely.

"If you persist in this killing, it will not help your case any with the American people! Stop this madness. I will surrender myself to you, but not alone. America must see this, and I am bringing the noted action reporter Calvin Dean from ENN."

"His life is in your hands," the AI replied. "This madness, as you call it, is yours, not ours. The Separatists have been trying to live free, and you are the one bringing this upon yourselves. The killing will stop once you arrive." Sienna Madira smiled wildly into the viewer.

"Well, note this! I'm coming. Alexander Moore is coming!" Moore slammed his fist down on the Transmit button, killing the feed to the AIs. He turned to look at the camera system in the conference room so that his face would be seen in every living room across the system. "By Section Three of the Twenty-fifth Amendment of the Constitution of the United States of America, I am declaring a temporary incapacity to perform the duties of the office of the president of the United States. Following this verbal declaration, a written letter will be delivered to the speaker of the House of Representatives and to the president pro tempore of the Senate, declaring that the vice president will become Acting President in my incapacity. The vice president will continue to act as president until such time that I am again able to fulfill the office duties. At that time, I will send another letter to the speaker and to the pro tem." Alexander Moore rubbed his eyes and took a deep long breath. There were no tears there, only rage.

"To the families who have already lost someone in this madness, you have my most deepest and heartfelt sympathies, and I will personally visit each and every one of you when I return. I have a wife and daughter that I love dearly and understand how I would feel in your situation. I am truly sorry. For those of you who have loved ones there, don't give up hope! I will stop this! God bless you and God bless the Unites States of America."

"But why do you have to go, Daddy?" Deanna cried. Tears rolled down her pink cheeks. Alexander brushed them away with his thumbs and pulled her closer to him.

"People are dying, baby. Every minute I waste, more innocent people die. I have to go and stop that." Moore hugged his daughter to him, kissing her head. Tears welled in his eyes, but he tried not to shake since his little princess didn't need to see fear or sadness from him at this point. He had only a moment to spend with his family while the SOCOM people readied an aircraft and his gear. That moment would cost another life, but there was nothing he could do about it.

There was very little chance that Alexander would be able to walk away from Ahmi this time. He was one man, and there were thousands of AI bots there and one big-assed bomb. But the one thing that would push him through it was in his arms at that moment. Sehera slipped in behind her daughter and stroked her hair. His daughter already stood nearly to Alexander's chin. He leaned his head forward and propped his cheek against top of her head, stifling a sniffle against her.

"Daddy will be back," she said, looking at her husband of thirty years and stroking her daughter's long, straight black hair. Sehera was understandably shaken, and Alexander could see it in her eyes. Not since the Desert Campaigns had the two of them seen such a no-win situation. But they had come out of that hellhole alive, and they had to have hope now.

"You come back, Daddy! You hear me! You come back," Deanna pushed back and pounded him in the chest with her fist and then laid her head back down against it, drying her tears against his shirt.

"You know, you get more and more like your mother every day. I'll see you soon. I love you, princess." He kissed her one last time and then hugged her and Sehera to him in a three-way hug.

"I love you, Daddy."

"I love you, too, Alexander," Sehera whispered in his ear and nuzzled at his cheek.

Alexander stood straight and winked at his daughter and patted her head one last time. He turned, choked his tears down, and stepped through the doorway of the office that Deanna had been using as her room. Once out the door and out of the sight of his family, Alexander propped against the hallway wall, allowing himself to collapse in a torrent of emotions for a brief second. He struggled against tears that now flowed from his eyes. He sniffled and wiped his eyes and then stood straight, turning his emotion to pure rage. Pure. Rage.

Thomas, Clay, and Michael had been standing watch outside the doorway, and the three marines made every attempt to act as if they hadn't seen or heard what had just transpired. They all stood stiff and soundless, but Moore was certain the three soldiers turned Secret Service had seen him in his moment of weakness.

"Thomas, you take care of them."

"You have my word on that, Mr. President," the marine assured him.

"Sir, we need to get you to the Starhawk. We have everything ready for you there."

"Calvin Dean?"

"He is in route to intercept up just outside the park on I-4," Kootie replied.

"I wish I could talk you out of this, sir, but I gave up on talking you out of things nearly four years ago." Thomas looked solemnly at him.

"I have to stop this, Thomas."

"We understand, Mr. President," Clay replied with a nod. Alexander wasn't sure if the big marine NCO looked as if he could cry or bite super-hardened, metal-plated composite nails in two. "Sir, I have a family, you know. And I've always felt that it was the love I have for them that was the reason I kept doing what I do. You know what I mean, sir?" Moore only nodded at the marine, and then he took a deep, calming breath, swelling out his chest.

"All right, let's get on with this. I've got a bunch of crazy fucking Seppy robots to slay!"

"Oorah, sir. Oorah."

"Intel shows only the one gluonium source, sir," General Brown pointed out in the holoprojection of the Disney World complex to Moore.

"Are we sure?"

"Yes, sir. Gluonium is pretty damned hard to hide. We just weren't looking for it at Disney World. We'll have to start looking for it everywhere from now on."

"Yes, you will. Okay. One bomb. That is good."

The Starhawk zoomed at six hundred kilometers per hour across the Tampa treetops. Thomas sat at the gunner's seat on the left side of the lifter, while Clay sat on the right side. The two marines scanned for potential threats beneath them that they could pepper with the forty-millimeter cannons. Two FM-12s flanked each side of the lifter in fighter mode. The formation of the Starhawk and the four mecha fighters tore across the Florida morning toward the Disney complex.

Moore dropped his underwear to the deck of the troop carrier, feeling the warm, humid air wash over his body, giving him a slight run of chills up his spine. A marine colonel helped him step into the organogel undergarment for the armored environment suit. The cool pseudo liquid immediately adjusted to his body temperature and lubricated itself so that the garment slipped on like a second layer of skin, forcing the chills to dissipate rapidly. The gel filled in all the space between his body and the outer layer of the bodysuit and was filled with anesthetic and other chemicals that would keep him from itching, burning, chafing, or any other uncomfortable thing that might require a physical adjustment that couldn't be made once inside the suit. The garment was comfortable. In fact, it had been suggested that it was the most comfortable "second skin" garment ever invented by mankind. Moore didn't really give a shit. It was part of the suit. He needed the suit to do what had to be done. Doing what had to be done was the only thing going through his mind at the moment.

"Been a long time," he said to himself. Alexander eyed the little needle-nosed vial in his palm. Then he jammed the injector into his neck and then pulled the zipcord up his back. He placed the sticky- tab tight over his right shoulder and worked his neck from side to side, forcing the air bubbles out from the turtleneck with a schlurrp. Then the colonel helped him into the back of the e-suit jumpboots. Alexander could feel the warm sensation of the stims, painkillers, and immunobooster coursing through his veins. With each heartbeat, he felt a surge of invulnerability flood his body.

"Obviously, not your first time in an e-suit, sir," the colonel said with a grin.

"I once spent thirty-seven and a half days in one, Colonel. Worst fucking time of my life," Moore replied. The colonel looked approvingly at him. The young lieutenant on the other side of the suit looked at Moore skeptically. "I highly recommend it if you ever get the chance."

"I thought the record in one of these things was only nine days, sir?" the lieutenant said knowingly, almost calling out the president for lying.

"Nobody ever told me there was a record," Moore shrugged and pulled the arms into place. The seam in the back of the armored e-suit sealed itself, and the armor grew hard in place over the seal layer.

"Lieutenant, don't you follow politics?" the colonel asked, snapping the glove layer on with a slap. "That is the official witnessed record they teach at suit quals. President Moore here had an AIC-confirmed, thirty-seven and a half days of survival in his suit during the Desert Campaigns."

"No, sir. I'm not very interested in politics. And the Desert Campaigns was before I was born, sir."

"Young man. Lieutenant, uh," Moore looked at the kid's nametags. "Ulrich. Lieutenant Ulrich, just because you aren't interested in politics doesn't mean it isn't interested in you. I suggest you start learning to follow who leads you a little more closely."

"Uh, okay, sir." Lieutenant Ulrich didn't have the slightest idea what Moore was telling him, but he might, one day, if he lived long enough. Moore dropped it and focused on his suit.

Abigail, how's our plan coming?

I think I've got it figured out, sir. But I suspect you'll have very little time, from debilitating the AIs to taking the bomb away. I estimate that you'll have seventeen seconds. Then keeping it away will be the hard part. There is no doubt that once they overcome the jamming, they will detonate the bomb.

Understood.

"Mr. President!" General Brown shouted from the cockpit. The soft whining of the troop carrier's engines nearly drowned out his voice.

"Yes, General?"

"The U.S.S. Abraham Lincoln and the U.S.S. John Tyler have just come out of hyperspace in a hovering orbit of about three hundred kilometers above Orlando, sir."

"Understood. Have my orders been relayed?"

"Absolutely, Mr. President."

"Colonel, if you please?" Moore took the helmet from the spec ops marine and dropped it in place over his head with a hiss, a swish, and a twist. The brain bucket locked into place, and cool fresh air filled with vapor stimulants flooded Alexander's face.

The colonel knocked three times on Moore's faceplate and held a thumbs-up. Moore relaxed and felt the suit come to life around him and then manipulated his armored hand, giving an armored thumbs- up.

"This is Mobile One, copy?" Moore said. His visor kicked on with a faint red and green glow, and a system readout zipped past his eyes. His DTM battleview flooded his mindview, and the menu icons floated out in front and to the side of him in his peripheral vision.

"Mobile One, copy that. We read you clear on wireless, lidar, and QMs," his AEM handlers at the USSOCOM pentagon Tactical Operations Center replied.

"Mobile One, hold tight for sensor update package."

"Roger that," Moore replied. Then he DTMed the open channel for the aircraft. "General, where are we?" He popped his visor up, causing a slight hissing sound from the overpressure air escaping.

"Sitting down now on I-4. Dean is standing there like an idiot waiting on us."

"Right." Moore brought up the weapons store list in his DTM. The HVAR on his back was fully loaded, and his armory pack was maxed with rounds, grenades, and his special surprise.

Abigail, you finished handshaking with my suit?

I own this suit, sir.

Thought as much. Tell me what I have.

It is state-of-the-art and brand new, as far as I can tell. The jumpboots will take you a little farther than your old one, but you should adjust quickly. If you want lidar or QMs, just tell me or you can do the DTM interface toggles yourself. There's more, but you'll be fine, sir.

Thanks, good girl. You do whatever has to be done if I ain't doin' it. Got it?

Got it, sir.