Collaboration

Washington D.C., United States of America; Wednesday, June 19th, 2008, 6:27 P.M.…

The German Shepherd moved swiftly down the hall, with half a dozen aides swarming around him, and some even trailing behind him.

"I'm telling you, it's the only way to go…"

"If you try that, the anti-war nuts will be all over you…"

"As surprising as it is, some lunatics actually oppose trying to attack that thing…"

"Mr. President, I have your speech right here, but it's kind of last-minute…"

With a single hand raised up into the air, he silenced all of them at once, slipped through the door, and quickly pressed it shut behind him. With a sigh and a shake of his head, he leaned back against the door, his eyes caught halfway between the wall at the opposite end of the room and the ceiling above him. But he had caught a glimpse of the one other occupant of the room.

"Well, Dick…at least I know how JFK felt during the Cuban Missile Crisis."

"You kidding? This makes October of 1962 look like a bad round of golf." He placed a hand on his forehead and closed his eyes.

Bush silently strode across the Oval Office, past the Resolute Desk, and up to the windows, hands in his pockets as he looked out over the White House lawn to Pennsylvania Avenue outside.

"It really makes me miss the days when the biggest thing I had to worry about was accidentally shooting someone."

"Or protestors."

"Sir?" Cheney pulled his hand away and turned to the President.

"Like those right out front."

Sure enough, there was, as always, a flood of protestors outside the black fence, with picket signs and chants never wavering.

"BUSH IS WEAK."

"END OF BUSH = END OF THE ATTACKS."

"OBAMA/CLINTON = BBB: BRING BACK BACKBONE."

"Ugh." Bush shook his head. "The only thing they're missing is…Oh, wait. There's a Ron Paul sign. How the hell can they wave around signs about the election when the entire Eastern Hemisphere is being blown off the map?"

"Eh, I give 'em credit for dedication. But they seriously believe that when you leave in January, we'll actually see the end of this second holocaust."

"Well, excuse me if this wasn't as easy as overthrowing the Taliban or Hussein."

"Or Hitler."

"I wish. God, what I'd give to be Reagan or Eisenhower right about now."

"Hell, perhaps we should've conceded to Gore."

"Where the hell are Bob and Condi?"

Just then, Secretary of Defense Robert Gates and Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice came in, causing the two men already in the room to turn around. The buzz of voices outside briefly flowed in through the open door before it was shut again.

"Sorry we're late, Mr. President." Gates hurriedly explained.

Bush held up a single hand. "Never mind it. What have you got?"

"Josh managed to fend off the Joint Chiefs, but they really want your answer, sir." Gates continued.

"Either that or your head on a silver platter." Rice added.

"Now that might be a little easier." Bush muttered.

"I'd like to see them try to make the decision themselves." Cheney added discontentedly.

"If it were up to them, they'd just launch our entire nuclear arsenal at 'em."

"Yeah, just for them to explode right over New York?" Bush retorted.

"Exactly. We still have no clue how the hell that keeps happening…"

"FOUR times!" Cheney shouted, slamming his fist on the couch's armrest. "FOUR times the bombs 'mysteriously' go off before that thing's even in range. They must have some kind of, I don't know, detection system somehow…it must alert them to the presence of nuclear bombs and…I don't know…set 'em off?"

"If that's true, then what else do they have? Jetpacks? Time travel?"

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"Look, this is all just too much to handle for right now."

"Sir, if you keep putting it off, it'll only make the moment of decision harder…and riskier." Gates commented.

"I know, I know. But sometimes, the best decision is the one that's made on your own terms, not on someone else's. Alright?"

"I understand, sir. Should that be our answer for the press?"

"At this point, I couldn't give less of a damn what Chris Matthews thinks. Let 'em verbally tear me a new one. They can go to sleep tonight not having the fate of the free world on their shoulders."

"Alright. Let's go, Condi."

With a final, despondent look back, the two Secretaries left the Oval Office, and only Bush and Cheney remained.

Bush sat down on the couch across from his Vice President, both hands covering his face.

"God, just please give me a miracle. Either that or just kill me now."

"One of those can be arranged."

Both men instantly jerked their heads up at the new voice that responded to Bush's comment. They looked around frantically, but saw not a single other soul in the room.

"You're lucky that I don't put much stock in American politics, because this would be a little bit harder for me to stomach. But as a non-citizen, I could care less about whether you're a Democrat or a Republican."

"What the hell is this?" Cheney stood up. "I'm calling in the agents."

"Do that, and I'll be gone in an instant…along with your only chance to destroy that thing."

At this, the Vice President stopped halfway to the door and turned back in the direction he thought the voice was coming from, but found himself looking at President Bush, who still stood in the middle of the room in shock.

"Say again?"

"You heard me."

"And I'd like a face to go with that sense of humor. Show yourself." Cheney demanded.

"Only if you agree that we will be the only three men in this room for quite a while. We can't have any wild cards."

"Disembodied voices are wild enough, don't you think?"

"I'll gladly show myself if you promise no tricks."

After a pause, Bush spoke for the first time since the voice appeared. "There will be no tricks. We're not Democrats, remember?"

With a faint chuckle, the voice responded. "Fair enough."

Then, in an instant, the figure appeared halfway between the Resolute Desk and where Bush was standing. It wore a long, black cape accompanied by a hood that completely covered its head and face. In addition to the cape, the figure wore a blue shirt with a yellow collar and yellow belt. As it spoke again, it continued using a deep, fairly scratchy voice to address the two most powerful men in the country.

"Now, listen very carefully. I don't like to repeat myself, and I don't have much time as it is."

"Who are you?" Cheney asked defensively.

"My identity does not matter. That much needs to be said only once. If you knew who I was, you'd probably discredit everything that I have to tell you. But at this point, we are all united in a common cause: The cause of freedom for the surviving world. And, as President of the freest nation in the history of the world, I'm sure you'd agree?"

"I suppose so." President Bush responded half-heartedly.

"Now, I have with me a briefcase…"

The figure held out a briefcase that had previously been contained underneath the cape. He held out the brown case before the two men, holding it at an arm's length from himself.

"Not to worry, it's no bomb or anything dangerous. And just to prove it, I'll open it myself."

The figure then slowly reached out and, while holding the case with one hand, it flipped open the two golden latches with the other, then slowly opened the case. It then turned the case around to reveal the contents to the President and Vice President.

It contained a series of blue papers, some folded over neatly into squares, some rolled up, and some overlapping each other.

"These are blueprints."

"Blueprints?" Cheney responded skeptically.

"Blueprints." The figure repeated with slight annoyance. "These are not just any blueprints, however. These are blueprints for that machine. Blueprints from just about every angle, covering all the significant details, big and small. You do not need to know how these were acquired, or when. But what you do need to know is the acquisition of these blueprints cost many, many lives. Including the life of one of my comrades, one of my allies…one of my friends. So treat these with care, if you please."

As the figure said this, it held the case out in front of him and slowly approached Bush. Once he was just outside arm's length from the President, he gestured for Bush to take the case for himself. With only slight hesitation, the President reached out and took the case, looking closely at the blueprints for himself.

"These have already been heavily analyzed by the best of the best, who is another friend of mine. But feel free to hand these over to anyone you may consider 'experts.'" The figure made his distaste of the last word very clear in his tone. "But it would be worthless, as the ultimate weakness of this thing has already been discovered. That is where this thing comes into play."

The figure slowly reached back into its cape and withdrew a small, circular, metallic device with a single green light situated on top. Noticing Cheney's startled reaction, the figure was quick to reassure them once again. "Relax. It's only a hologram projector. I insist that you watch it."

Setting the device down on the nearest table, the figure pressed a single button on the side. Out of the green light emitted a holographic image, with the pixels matching the green color of the light on top. A figure soon took form in the pixels, but also with a hood covering its face. A voice began to speak from the device, with the computerization only marginally reducing the wheeziness of the subject's original voice.

"Greetings. I assume that, if you are watching this, then my partner here was successful, and I now have an audience with President Bush and Vice President Cheney. First, let me say that it's an honor to be speaking with both of you gentlemen, albeit one-sidedly. But I must get down to business. What I am about to tell you is extremely crucial, sensitive, and time-significant information that can only benefit you, me, and the rest of the free world. As my associate has already told you, these are blueprints of the machine that has destroyed so much, which is officially titled 'The Omega Project'."

As the voice gave the name of the machine, the image of the hooded head was replaced by a digital image of the Death Ray, as it appeared in the blueprints, which slowly rotated in endless circles while an X-rayed view began stripping away the outer parts and showing the inner mechanisms. The voice continued with its narration.

"As you already know, it has the same destructive capability of the average nuclear bomb, but can stay airborne nearly indefinitely. It is also invisible on radar, impenetrable, defended by heavy artillery, and able to set off any nuclear bombs within a certain radius long before the explosives could hit it. Thus, it appears to be indestructible.

"However, I may have found the solution to destroying this machine once and for all. Now this machine is able to stay airborne for a number of reasons: Propellers, jet propulsion, etc. However, above all else, I have found the main source of its self-sustainability: Magnetic energy. Reversed magnetic energy, to be precise. You see, when you try to press two magnets of the same energy together, they always repel."

As the figure said this, the images of two horseshoe-shaped magnets, each marked with a + sign, appeared in the projection and moved slowly towards each other. Electric rays shot back and forth between them, pressing them further away from each other.

"And the planet Earth is like a giant magnet, but with two opposite magnetic poles at opposite ends. Each pole, of course, is located in the Northern Hemisphere and Southern Hemisphere."

A globe appeared next, with small sticks protruding from the top and bottom to illustrate this next point.

"Thus, each hemisphere has its own magnetic energy. The Omega Project has been equipped with a magnetic energy matching the magnetic energy of the Northern Hemisphere. Due to its massive size and the concentrated power of the magnetic energy, it is able to stay high above the surface of the Earth purely due to the sheer power of the repelling magnetic forces.

"It would only make sense that the magnetic energy match that of the Northern Hemisphere. Why, you may ask? Well, as evident by the last six months, the Omega Project has only struck cities in the Northern Hemisphere. But that's because all of the world's major cities, capitals, and other sensitive targets are only located in the Northern Hemisphere. Europe, the Middle East, the Far East, North Africa…and North America, which, fortunately, is still yet to be attacked.

"But it wouldn't dare go into the Southern Hemisphere. Again, it doesn't need to. But if it were to so much as move several yards over the Equator, its energy would be opposite that of the portion of the Earth below it. Thus, it would instantly have the opposite effect and drag the machine straight down towards the Earth at a startling speed, aside from the massive weight of the machine itself. The impact, whether against land or water, would be more than sufficient to destroy it completely.

"That, gentlemen, is the plan I have come up with. We must find a way to trick and/or lure the Omega Project into the Southern Hemisphere. Only then will it be rendered useless and completely destroyed. Of course, I alone am unable to devise the specific way we can lure the machine into the dangerous area, but that is what I am leaving up to you. After all, the United States undoubtedly has the greatest – and not to mention the last – intelligence community on the face of the Earth. You should be able to come up with something, but do so very quickly. As we speak, the United States and the free world are running out of time."

And with that, the image vanished completely.

"You can keep that." The figure in the room said as it gestured to the deactivated device.

And with that, the figure turned and moved back towards the desk.

"Wait a minute!" Cheney called out.

"I would if I had a minute." The figure responded.

"How are we supposed to believe any of this? Any of what you're spewing?"

The figure continued moving, walking slowly around the desk and towards the window.

"Hey! Don't you walk away from me, you little-."

But the figure suddenly vanished, disappearing from sight just as suddenly as it had first appeared.

I knew that going in there would yield few results and little cooperation. I was lucky that Cheney didn't just throw open the door and unleash the Secret Service on me. But it had to be done. Bentley and I had already agreed that it was time to extend our efforts beyond just our own two minds. As much as we both feared the response – or lack of one – from the U.S. government, we knew that it was time to hand off that problem to a larger group of intelligent individuals, who had the equipment, the authority, and the time to use it.

And with that off our backs, we were free to focus on a more personal – but equally important – mission.