The CIA Director was back in the Oval Office. All electronic devices had been removed; a secretary acted as a stenographer. President Smith looked at McNally with a frown.
"All right, Kyle. I assu this is about the aliens, given the precautions."
"Yes, Mr. President. It would appear that the aliens are conducting clandestine assassinations of humans around the world."
Smith absorbed that for a mont. Are we at war? "Who?"
"Slave owners."
Smith felt as if he had just aged a few years. He took a breath with a bit of difficulty. "Details."
McNally explained about the rescues of sex slaves, and the selection criteria for the targets. "Our agent in place has been feeding us information about the next targets. We prepped resources in place to gather evidence. All our recording devices malfunctioned. Our people saw nothing. No one who did see anything survived. The won have no idea who rescued them. The sites burned to the ground after they left."
"So, we can't prove it's happening. Any chance of stopping them?"
"Not by force," McNally admitted reluctantly. "Maybe if you confronted Tomsun or tried to reason with him, but we don't predict that going well. He knew what he was doing. Targets were carefully chosen to make the pattern hard to detect, and for the won to receive help and protection."
"So, at least he's trying to hide it. Maybe we can work with that." Smith's mind raced over several contingencies. "You know the next targets. Anyone coming up that we care about?"
"Not imdiately. But eventually? That depends. Do you like oil?" McNally deadpanned.
"Shit." Smith scowled. "That tracks. Granted, I love oil less than I did last week, but still, that's going to be a real problem. Options?"
"First option, pretend we don't know and let the strikes happen."
"Tempting."
"Second option, warn the Royal Family and see how they do with defense. So far, it's unclear whether Tomsun is hunting down the perpetrators or focusing on freeing the won. If the princes stay away from their harems when the strikes are supposed to happen, they might survive."
"You can't tell yet?"
"So far, the strikes have been clean sweeps—the perpetrator and accomplices are killed, and the won freed. We don't know yet whether he'll attack when he can't do both at once. He might skip them and go for easier targets."
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"It's worth a try."
"Third option, urge the royals to free their sex slaves imdiately."
Smith barked a small laugh. "Fat chance."
"Of course. But they'll rember that we at least tried to help them. And Tomsun will think we're on his side."
"What about Aricans?"
"None targeted yet. That doesn't an he won't. What do we do when he starts killing Arican citizens?"
"The bigger question is what the billionaires will do, given that several of them will probably be on the list." Smith rubbed his jaw and thought. "He's got us over a barrel. Every secret on every computer. Plus a large fraction of the human race would probably welco him as a dictator. And unless he's foolish enough to land on Earth, we can't get to him."
"Our agent in place could try."
"No. You'd be throwing their life away for nothing. Besides, killing Tomsun would not help us. In fact, pissing off the aliens with the big guns in orbit is just about the stupidest thing I can conceive of. What does your psych profile say about Tomsun now, given that he's ordered hit squads?"
McNally sighed. "He's crossed a line, killing humans. He has power and he's learning to flex it, and he chose to start with scumbags, not to put too fine a point on it. Not so much a revolutionary as a vigilante, so far. He's not the type to seek out power, but he's also refusing to give it up or refrain from using it."
"What do you suppose his goals are?"
"Believe it or not, I think he wants what he believes is best for Arica. To so extent, he is a patriot. A patriot with absolute power is a terrifying prospect, but Tomsun doesn't seem to want to be a dictator. We haven't been able to get a clear picture of his politics; he mostly kept his head down on the topic. His friends are a mix of liberals and conservatives. He's still refusing interviews, claims that he's too busy for now. Also, our agent reported that Tomsun has received the brain-boosting surgery, so we'll have to watch for personality changes on top of everything else."
"If the crew of that freighter are forming the hit squads, they're directly in his employ. Where does Captain Geh!aoa fit in, do you think?"
"She might not even know it's happening. That's another one clearly in over her head. I think Tomsun has delegated the strikes to Captain Telnik. That giant woodchuck seems to be very familiar with how First Contact situations can go. If Tomsun gave him so kind of general orders, Telnik has to interpret them, but I think he's going to at least try to minimize the chaos."
"Will he have the subtlety to use soft power?"
"Undoubtedly. I wouldn't be surprised if Telnik calls to negotiate when he gets back. I think he would accept a call from us, but it's hard to tell what the alien would say without asking."
"I think we need to have that conversation," Smith decided. "I'll ssage the New Hope, and have them pass the word that I want to talk when he gets back to Earth orbit." He looked at McNally. "Any other burning concerns?"
"Thousands, but none rising anywhere near this level. Even terrorism has tapered off in the past few days, globally; everyone wants to wait and see what the aliens stand for."
"All right. Thanks for the update. Keep inford."
"Yes, Mr. President." McNally left the Oval Office. Smith was going to have ga out options with his staff next. But first, he told his secretary that he needed a few minutes.
In the privacy of his own mind, amidst his worry and concern, Smith felt a flicker of hope. This could be horrendous, possibly even the end of Arica as a free country. But...what if Tomsun is a reforr? What if he believes in Arica, and wants to set the country to rights his way, doing things that no one else could? Maybe he wants to follow the law, or rather, force us to obey our own laws. Maybe, just maybe, he wants Arica to live up to the ideals we try to teach our children.
I don't dare believe it, but it's nice to dream.
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