"The Emissary"

[The_Weeping_Angel]

May 5th, 2035:
Africa:
Agent Starr:
Stepping in front of Emelia Agent Starr stepped out first, she was wearing a vest under her suit so wasn’t overly worried about it. And she’d been shot before so she knew what to feel. Granted the Alien could have been wearing a shield devise o something, but Starr hadn’t been told and the Aliens were not communicating about that stuff so if some crazy started shooting…

Moving to the end of the ramp she scanned the crowd, holding her and up in the universal gesture of ‘stay back’. Her hand on her service weapon got the message across as well, even if it was holstered.

“Stay back,” she told the people, though she had no clue what the local language was, nor did she know any language in the African continent.

“It’s safe for the moment, Ma’am. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do the glow bug maneuver. They may get psycho religious if you do that.”

Stepping off the ramp she moved to the side, giving Emelia space to walk forwards.

 

[AnnieBloom]

Central Chad, on the fringe of the Sahara Desert:

Emelia watched her newest protector descend the ramp into the bright sun, eager to see how M'Chel dealt with the crowd. The villagers were almost entirely African, which Emelia had been told was the equivalent of saying Black. She'd been told that, for right or wrong, the word had many different racial connotations, depending on what part of the world you were in and how you were using it, respectfully or derogatorily.

Emelia wasn't going to get into a debate over terminology as it meant absolutely nothing to her. Human Beings were Human Beings, regardless of whether they were white, black, red, yellow, or green. Ironically, despite the ethnic similarity between the members of the gathering, Emelia could pick out words from more than a dozen languages. Chad's official languages were Arabic and French, each of which had resulted from conquest of the region by foreign armies. Emelia could hear each of those languages, but she picked out words from Adamawa, Maban, Jaya, and others.

Regardless of what language the Chadians were speaking, a single phrase was being called out more than anything else, chant like: We will have peace! We will have peace! Emelia couldn't help but smile, recalling Pennsylvania Avenue days earlier. She'd had no idea that her message would reach the far-flung Sahara so quickly. She wondered in how many other parts of the world her words were being chanted.

“Stay back,” M'Chel recommended over her shoulder as she surveyed the crowd. “It’s safe for the moment, Ma’am. But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do the glow bug maneuver. They may get psycho religious if you do that.”

There was an irony in the Agent's request. The effect on the crowd in Washington DC had been immediate and significant, more so that Emelia had actually expected. She'd used it on the peoples of previous planets the Matluk had taken their mission to, and while sometimes it had a positive effect, others it didn't. Despite Emelia's desire to repeat the act here, she would, for now, refrain. M'Chel was correct that the religious aspects of the aura were questionable and potentially dangerous. That was the ironic part: it had nothing to do with religion and was all about winning friends and influencing people, as a Human book once taught.

Descending the ramp, Emelia waved and smiled to the people, who continued to cheer and chant. As she moved forward, local police pushed the people back, sometimes using the rifles they held before them forcefully. Emelia held her hands up, signaling for silence, and surprisingly the crowd complied. Speaking to the police in what she'd been told was the official language of the local government, she asked, "S’il vous plaît, posez vos armes. Ils sont inutiles. Fais-moi confiance. S’il vous plaît. S’il vous plaît, désarmez. Je ne suis pas en danger."

The police looked bewildered, concerned, doubtful. And yet, after she repeated her plea, they began backing away from the crowd and doing as she asked, laying their rifles on the ground. Despite no longer being corralled away from the Emissary, the crowed remained where it was, in a wide arc around Emelia. Again, she began forward, and as she did the villagers parted like the Red Sea before Moses. She led them across the sands to the downhill side of the dike, climbed it, and watched with a wide smile as the children and others played in the slowly rising reservoir.

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

Central Chad, on the fringe of the Sahara Desert:
Agent Starr:

Walking through the sand to the reservoir M’Chel wondered why she’d agreed to this. Oh yeah. Assaulting a Medical Officer. Whiny twit.

At least the humans here weren’t trying to kiss and hug and touch Emelia. But she’d also agreed no to turn into a glow bug and incite a religious fervor. Though the way everyone kept chanting had her concerned about eventualities. Maybe this was the plot. Create a new religion. Or a new Alien government. Look we did what your governments cannot… or will not.

And the Agent she’d selected to watch the POTUS had been from the Company in the Military, even if the served at different times. Both used the same hand signals to convey messages when audible wasn’t possible. Usually due to shelling, or sneaky raids. And they both knew ASL. She'd use the radio for an emergency, and her hands for casual info.

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

May 5th, 2035:
Washington DC:
Alaina Carmichael:

Sitting across from the president in the Limo, Alaina kept her legs crossed and aimed to the side, the other aid in the vehicle was also female and looked annoyed all the time. She had her tablet at the ready to set any appointments or take notes, look up something on the internet, whatever the Vice President needed.

She was wearing a Blue suit velvet looking skirt dress with a cinch belt. The matching jacket was just a couple shades darker with quarter rolled cuffs. The silk scarf she had was her fan-girl moment, Tardis blue with white TARDIS’ and silver K-9’s across it. She even had a slender band Gallifreyian watch on her right wrist with Diamond Earrings and her hair pulled back in a ponytail and out of the way.

She didn’t know where they were going only that she was going along. She’d very quickly gotten the hint to not take a purse so all her id’s, and credit cards, were in a Faraday case in her pocket.

“Um, Sir, Am I allowed to ask where we’re going?” She asked. She’d been up at 3 am and in her office at 6 am, skipping breakfast except for a fast bagel and water. She’d planned on grabbing lunch in the office but that idea went to shit and now she was thinking she wasn’t eating until tonight. If then.

 

[AnnieBloom]

Central Chad, on the fringe of the Sahara Desert:

Emelia's attention moved between the growing, deepening reservoir of water, the Human playing in it like children (even those who weren't), and the Chadians who continued to chant and cheer for the alien who was doing something for them that no one in their government had been willing or able to do. Emelia would have found it ironic that her new bodyguard was thinking the same thing about who was or wasn't helping these desperate people.

After several minutes, Emelia looked back to the shuttle and made a gesture in the air. A minute later, now with their equipment deenergized, the three dike-building shuttles formed up with the four drilling shuttles and performed a flyover of the village, leaving harmless smoke trails behind them that were blue, gold, and red, the colors of the flag of Chad. Again, the crowd roared with delight. After passing over head, the shuttles banked together as one in a routine that the Blue Angels would have been impressed by, then shot forward at his speed and, just seconds later, disappeared over the horizon.

"I believe they like what they are seeing, don't you, Agent Starr?" Emelia asked about the cheering crowd. "Your President asked me what I wanted for Houston. If she were here now, I'm sure that she would ask that same question with regard to the Chadian people, government, or both. I wish to show you, Agent M'Chel. Come with me."

Once again parting the crowd like Moses, Emelia backtracked to the shuttle. She traded pleasantries with the village elders, ascended into the shuttle, and waved to the people. The doors closed, the ramp retracted, and the shuttle lifted into the sky. From above, you could clearly see the growing shape of the reservoir and the dry, thirsty terrain that it would soon be irrigating.

The shuttle traveled for only a few minutes, then descended to once again land. The were at a work site where the four hovering drilling shuttles from before were again lasering holes into the ground. This time, however, the shuttles were so near to one another that it was hard to find space between them, and their lasers were all tilted to strike the Earth in the same place.

"What I am about to tell you is of no concern of you President or of your country," Emelia said as she and M'Chel once again exited the shuttle. "This is between the Matluk and Chadian Government. However--"

She smiled to M'Chel. "If you feel that you need to report this to President Paulson, I will understand." She looked to the drill site, continuing, "Your planet has a secret, a rare mineral about which even your most knowledgeable scientist and geologists are unaware. It is located deep in the earth, just beyond what is called the rigid mantle, in the asthenosphere."

Emelia nodded her head toward the drillers. "They are opening a column through which we can extract this mineral. It is called Geovik. Geovik is essential to the future and even the existence of the Matluk people and out missions to planets such as Earth. It is also rare. The two solar systems we visited before yours had little to no Geovik."

Looking back to M'Chel, Emelia said with a sincere tone, "I promise you, Agent Starr, that we are doing no harm to your planet or to you people. We will extract the Geovik, then close the extraction column. It will be as if we were never here."

 

[HumanBean]

May 5th, 2035:
Washington DC:
Alaina Carmichael:

Vice President Clark Griffin's attention shifted often between two things of importance to him. The first was the iPad on which he was skimming over one news piece after another spurred on by the Washington Post's article the day before. The second were the long, luscious legs of the two sexy young things sitting before him in the stretch's rear facing seat.

The woman sitting to Clark's left was Carla Something-or-other. Clark was always forgetting her surname. It was something Scandinavian with letters that didn't sound like he thought they should. Carla had signed on as an intern a little more than a year ago. She'd been 19 at the time and hot as fuck. More importantly, she'd been perfectly willing to drop to her knees and suck Clark.

They'd ceased having sex a couple of weeks before Clark's Chief of Staff found Alaina. There had been two reasons for this cessation of sexual service. First, Carla had fallen in love, was getting married, and found serving her boss a bit inappropriate. And second, Clark had grown bored with her. His attention span regarding subservient women was short. So, after she'd blown him one last time, he'd simply decided to move on.

The woman sitting to Clark's right was, of course, Alaina Carmichael. She, too, was young and hot as fuck. Younger and hotter, Clark believed. His only question was Can you deep throat me and happily swallow like your predecessor? He'd been wanting to discover this answer for days. Circumstances and tight schedules had prevented Clark from partaking of his new intern in the way he so badly wanted to.

There had been one moment of joy for Clark with regards to Alaina's incredible body. Frank had come to him this morning for an update of the day's schedule. Then the Aide handed Clark a USB drive, saying, "You will want to watch this in private, Mister Vice President." Frank explained what it was. Clark didn't hesitate to ascend from his office to his bedroom. On the desktop there, he watched the surveillance camera footage of Alaina swimming topless in the home's basement pool. Her body was simply incredible. He used the forward and rewind icons to repeatedly watch the good parts while feverishly stroking his cock to explosion.

Now, in the car, she crossed her legs and showed thigh almost to her hips. Clark had a hard time no looking at her. Glancing to Carla, he caught an angry expression on her face. Was she jealous? She shouldn't be. She was the one who ended her thing with Clark. He had no reason to feel guilt.

“Um, Sir, Am I allowed to ask where we’re going?” Alaina asked after they'd been on the road for a few minutes.

Clark answered by nodding his head toward a building coming up beyond the window outside of her: the White House. The limo pulled up to the gate. The guard checked everyone's IDs. And in they went. Clark looked to Alaina, saying, "Speak only when spoken to. Keep your answers short and sweet when you do give them. You are a well flower. The President shouldn't even know you're there."

They stopped at the White House's entrance. Marines in dress uniforms helped them out and into the buildings. POTUS's Chief of staff was right there to greet them. He told them, the President in on a conference call, but they will be done soon enough.

He led them to his own office and let them wait in there.

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

May 5th, 2035:
Washington DC:
Alaina Carmichael:

The White House????

Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God! Oh My God!

She was going to hyperventilate or vomit. She knew it! She was going to get fired in her first week??!??!!?!

Be a wallflower? Fuck could she just throw up and die? When they got to the gate, she almost handed over her ‘other ID’ before she realized the mistake and handed over her Federal ID to the rather cute, but very annoyed looking Marine at the gate. Would he rally shoot her with that gun if she wasn’t supposed to be here?

Probably. Shot to death in a limo on the white house lawn… when all she wanted to be was a cheerleader for one of the Superbowl champs. Then Modeling. Acting. TV and Movies and make a truckload of money.

Or get married to a rich bastard fuck him to death and retire young and rich, then fuck cute guys until she died of old age.

She was still moving under awe as she got out of the car and straightened up next to the tall and sexy Marine. OMG he was so fucking cute. She wanted to wrap her legs around him and practice making babies. He looked absolutely delicious in a uniform.

When they walked inside the Marines stopped wearing fatigues. Battle Dress Uniform? Armed Combat Uniform? Whatever the blending clothing was called those were outside. Inside Marines were in that sexy as fuck Dress uniform with the White hats, dark uniform, and white Gloves. Fuck she wanted to be part of that train….

When they walked past a female Marine, she knew she was in trouble, that girl made her nipples hard, and she started to breath funny.

And then her and Carla? Caroline? Kamille? The Cranking one! Were dropped off in an office and Mr. Griffin left. Stepping into the hall she looked at the female Marine and asked. “Could you show me where the bathroom is? Is that allowed? I have to pee really bad, and I don’t want to get lost.

The Marine looked at her then at the other Marine stationed a few steps away. The Other one nodded and her escort showed her through the building and waited outside as she vomited from nervousness. After cleaning up that mess, and rinsing her mouth with water from the sink, she peed. OMG!!!! she was Peeing in the WHITE HOUSE?!?!?! Fuck Marcie back home would pee herself! God damn it, she could take picture of the bathroom, she’d been ordered to leave her personal phone at the VP’s house. Fuck next time she was sneaking that in so she could get pictures.

Stepping back outside she looked at the Marine and asked. “Um... I’m new in own, it’s like my first week still and I was wondering... do you know any good clubs in town?” Fuck was this the best she could do? But she was so hot, and that uniform was soooo sexy!!

Lifting the corner of her mouth the Marine glanced around and then slipped a card over to Alaina. “Call me sometime, I’ll show you the time of you’re life.”

FUCK YES!!!

Usually, she got hit on, so this was her first official pass at another girl. Usually, she just walked past a guy and had to turn them away. This had been easier than she thought.

Back in the office she slid the card into her Faraday Box and reached for her tablet, pausing she looked at it. Then at Carla? Carrie? What the fuck was her name.

“Excuse me... I’m sorry what was your name again? So many people it’s hard to remember everyone’s names so fast.

“It’s Carla. If you put the names in your phone, even without phone numbers you’ll make it easier. It’s what I did last year when I started.”

“OMG, that so smart!” Alaina squealed softly. “Did anybody touch my tablet? I thought I put it over there?!” she said pointing.

“Yeah, one of the other staff had to get a piece of paper and your tablet was on top of it. So, they moved it.”

“Oh, Ok. Tough I was losing my mind for a second. How many times have you been to the White House?” She inquired as she moved into small talk and cleaned off her tablet. Someone had tried to access it, not just move it. But why? Why?

 

[HumanBean]

(OOC: This post continues from Post #50.)

Denver, Colorado:

"It's time," Liam announced. "Let's go."

They'd been parked in a thick grove of trees two miles from the military base. Annabelle had ordered it. Two miles, no less. Liam hadn't understanded why that distance. He also hadn't questioned it. They were using two small vans with roll up back doors. Each was dark colored with flat black paint. They were almost invisible under the New Moon sky. They arrived at the base's back fence and quickly cut their way through.

The first thing they noticed was the lack of lighting. It was as if someone had forgotten to pay the electric bill. Even the battery backup lighting was dark. Then, bodies. A pair lying on the ground. Uniformed, they had the appearance of a patrol. They looked to have just crumpled to the ground.

"What the fuck?" one of the men asked. "Are they dead?"

Liam didn't respond to the question. Annabelle had promised him no killing. She might have lied. But now was not the time to question that. He ordered, "Keep going. Next right, then 200 yards. It's on the right."

They would see another six bodies on the way. More patrols. Two more seen sitting in chairs outside the base's recreation hall. They now just slumped over, as if having fallen asleep. One had a still smoking cigarette between his fingers. Non-smoking base, Liam thought to himself.

They arrived at their destination. Another pair of guards lay on the ground near the man-door. "Get it open. Find her boxes," he ordered one man, gesturing to the larger roll-up door. To another, he said, "You, start filling my shopping list."

"What are you doing?" one of the men asked as Liam walked away.

He didn't answer. He headed for the two men lying on the ground. They didn't look dead. They looked asleep. No obvious trauma. What had caused this? Gas? Chemicals? He saw no tranquilizer darts. They were breathing. Not dead. That was good. Liam didn't want a needle in his arm for conspiracy to commit murder.

"Boss!" one of the men called. "You gotta see this."

Liam returned to the job at hand. Most of the men were quickly loading rifles, pistols, ammo, and more. Liam's shopping list. Two other men were standing idle in the doorway of an adjacent room. Liam pushed past them into the room. What he saw was unexpected. He moved closer to the goods Annabelle was paying him to retrieve. They had the right markings on them. They were filled body bags. Four of them.

"Nothing else?" Liam asked. The men told him no. They'd looked around. No more of the funny writing. "Load'em up."

The men were hesitant. Liam ripped his pistol out of the hip holster. He didn't need to point it at anyone. The message came through loud and clear. He'd never had to kill someone for disobeying him. But his reputation told another story. Three minutes later, the bodies were loaded. "Get us out of here."

"We still have lots of room," one of the men pointed out.

"We're done here," Liam told them. He didn't care about the loss in profit from leaving early. He hadn't liked this job before he began it. He certainly didn't like it now. "Let's go."

 

[HumanBean]

White House
The Oval Office:

Vice President Clark Griffin stood alone in the room for several minutes. He'd been told that the President would be right with him. She was finishing a meeting, he'd been told. Clark didn't believe that for a minute. She was letting him stew in his pot over the flame that such an office was.

When she finally arrived, he simply greeted her as appropriate and waited. Clark had considered pleading his innocence right off the bat. The Washington Post is wrong. But Angela would know better. The world's greatest intelligence services were at her beck and call. Or was it beckon call? He still got that wrong at times.

All he could do was wait to see what happened next.

 

[HumanBean]

(Continuing a plot from clear back at Post #15.)

Billy Grant had been having the strangest weeks of his life. First, he'd received an unsolicited invitation to a conservation conference in Washington DC. He hadn't recognized the organization sponsoring it. He'd researched it, though, and it had seemed legit.

It got stranger, though. He arrived in DC to learn that the conference was being held in Chad. Chad, the country. The country in Africa! Africa!

But wait! There's more! They were getting to Africa on a Matluk shuttle. An alien spacecraft. They were flying to Africa. In an alien spacecraft!

The shuttle had been waiting for them on Andrews Air Force base. Billy and the eight others found their seats. The shuttle lifted off. The transparency mode activated. And Billy watched as they rode up into the sky over Washington DC. It was incredible. The Atlantic was soon below them. Then, minutes later, Africa. Fucking Africa! Their more southerly route took them over the rainforests stretching from Guinea to the Central African Republic.

The Human organizer of the supposed conference, a man named Winston, stood and explained, "Our pilot has to deactivate the transparency mode, and activate another system. This, um ... well, it might feel strange. But don't worry. It won't harm you in any way."

He sat. Suddenly, Billy's head was swimming. He regained his senses. His cock was hard. He thought he might have ejaculated. When he got a chance to check, he'd find dried pre-cum on the inside of his briefs. What the fuck? was all he could think.

Minutes later, the shuttle settled down on the red and tan ground of Central Chad. Winston escorted the group to large tents. They didn't sport the United Nations logo as Billy had expected. They did sport phrases in French (Vous aurez la paix) and Arabic (سيكون لديك سلام). He would learn the translation: You will have peace.

Billy's group of six was joined by another two-dozen people from all over the world. They included experts in hydrology, arid terrain agriculture, weather patterns and global warming threats, nutritional medicine, the effects of famine and disease, and more. Most had Ph.Ds. Billy had an Associate's Degree. Why was he here? He was a leading voice in the protection of ancient aquifers. He'd written extensively about it. He'd spoken extensively about it. But he was no doctor.

The time difference between DC and Chad was 6 hours. The time difference between DC and Washington State was another 3 hours. Dark came soon. Sleep didn't. Billy was still talking to some of the others around an open pit fire when the sun began rising over the Eastern Sahara.

He filled up on coffee and got a light breakfast. Then, he and the others got busy. Billy had finally learned why he and the others were here: they were building a reservoir to serve the village of almost 500 people. They discussed the terrain around them, the aquifer below them, and the residents of the village. A vast array of maps, studies, charts, and more were made available.

They spent two days formulating a plan. It was a great plan. A very benevolent idea. But it was all theory. Billy hadn't seen anything to indicate that the plan was going to be instituted. They needed heavy equipment. Bulldozers. Excavators. Possibly heavy-duty dump trucks. None of that was here.

Billy hit the sack before sundown, spent. He awoke to mayhem. He dressed quickly and rushed outside. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Matluk shuttles, larger than the one he'd come in on, were carving up the earth north of the camp. When he finally understood, he laughed with awe and joy. The work that would have taken 1,000 men 1,000 days to complete was going to be done in just a single day.

Around midday, another shuttle arrived. The Emissary stepped off. Billy was overjoyed. He'd followed NASA missions for the whole of his life. He'd known who Sally Keen was. To see her now as Emelia was a treat. It was an obvious joy to the villagers, too. Billy joined the others from the planning team near the shuttle. The Emissary greeted them, shaking hands. She spoke to them and the village elders in their native languages. That only further impressed Billy.

"It's an honor," he told Emelia when it was his time to take her hand. "You've done something here that will change lives forever. Thank you."

It wasn't an exchange that Billy expected the Emissary to remember. He was just another Human face. Billy would remember it forever, though. Emelia's work here had been phenomenal. And, of course, she was unbelievably beautiful. (OOC: Pic below.)

 

[AnnieBloom]

White House
The Oval Office:

Angela had been sitting in her Chief of Staff's office for half an hour after her scheduled meeting with Vice President Griffin was supposed to have started. She'd spent the time aimlessly scrolling through social media. She only posted to the sites occasionally. Ahe had an Assistant Deputy Communications Director who did it four her. The young woman was a magician with the written word, particular when the number of characters were limited, as they were on many social media platforms.

Still, Angela enjoyed reading some of the posts that were put up in her name, just to see if the people found her witty.

She checked her watch, figured the man had stewed enough, and entered the Oval in a feigned rush. She stopped short, feigned surprise at seeing her VP, and apologized, "Clark! My God! I'm so sorry. I forgot we were meeting today. I hope you haven't been waiting too long."

Before he could answer, Angela was saying into her intercom, "Victoria, could you bring in a carafe of coffee for the Vice President and I?"

Angela gestured Clark to one of the two armchairs, then sat in the one facing it. She smiled to him pleasantly, asked about his wife, then about the project he was working on as part of his duties to the White House. Victoria arrived with the carafe and two mugs, poured, asked if there was anything more, and departed when told no.

Once she was gone, Angela sipped at the coffee, then asked point blank, "What the fuck am I reading in the Post?

 

[HumanBean]

White House
The Oval Office:

Clark didn't believe Angela's feigned surprise at seeing him at all. She'd called for the meeting. She was pissed. She didn't let things go. His only surprise had been that she hadn't come knocking at the door of his own office after seeing the Washington Post article. Yet, he smiled and went along with the act.

"The wife's good," he answered. "Still with her mother, tending to her. The old lady fell. Had some complications after hip surgery. The whole replacement thing, one side." This was true. And at the same time, it wasn't. Clark's wife had gone home to be with her mother. But the old lady hadn't needed any additional care and loving. So soon after the surgery, Clark's wife had slipped away to be with her lover.

Clark knew of the man, of course. The wife of the Vice President of the United States of America doesn't have an affair without her husband knowing. The happy couple been together now for almost two weeks now. They were in an isolated cabin in the deep woods of Minnesota. Drinking hot cocoas. Watching the geese on the lake. Sweating up the sheets that likely got changed twice a day.

Clark had a pretty good poker face when it came to lies. Angela's was better. He was waiting for signs that POTUS was about to blow up at him. Nothing. She just smiled and nodded to his lie about his wife. Poker face. Jesus Christ, you should be playing the WSOP. They moved on to another question: the Commission on Improved Health Care for Veterans. This was Clark's major project. Angela had put Clark in charge of it the first week they'd been in office.

"Our Senate friends are about to introduce their findings," Clark said. "That should lead to debate. Then a bill. Then new laws. And finally, some change in how we deal with our military folk returning home. Thank you for putting me on this, Madam President. I've been very happy to be involved in this."

He could have said far more than that. Clark and Angela both had been military. The comparison stopped there, though. Clark had been a frontline combat officer. He'd seen the worst of the fighting in Afghanistan. Iraq. Syria. Niger. He'd put in almost 20 years before retiring to enter politics. He sported battlefield scars for which he'd received the Purple Heart three times. He understood what the US's fighting men and women had been through.

It wasn't just the veterans Clark had done this work for, though. It had brought him a great deal of attention. It had strengthened his reputation with the military. Their families. Those who knew how important the military and its people were. This Commission had cemented his support for running for President after Angela's second term. Well, after her first term now.

They sipped at coffee. And then it came. "What the fuck am I reading in the Post?"

Clark didn't immediately answer. What was he going to do, lie? Say the Post had it all wrong? He sipped at his coffee again. He looked Angela right in the eyes. Then he put it to her plainly. "You went the wrong direction with our new friends from the heavens, Madam President. You should have played hardball with them. Instead, you invited them down to the planet. To New York City. To our country. You invited their leading into the White House. You wouldn't have done that with Putin when he was alive."

Russia's President Vladimir Putin had died just months earlier. The Russian government claimed that he'd died of a heart attack. He'd been 83, so the story seemed legit. The NSA knew better, though. That meant that Angela knew better. Clark continued, "You wouldn't do that with Kim." Unlike Putin, Kim Jong Un was still very much in charge of his country. North Korea and its insane leader continued to be the most frightening threat to the US. Until the Matluk arrived on the scene.

"You made a mistake, Madam President," Clark said. He rose, indicating he was done with the conversation. "The American people need a leader who will play hardball with these people." He laughed. "People. They aren't even people." He turned and stepped to depart. He paused. With a serious tone, he said, "If there's nothing else, Madam President..."

Clark wanted nothing more than to get the fuck out of here. He had work to do. He had supporters to speak with. He had an 18-year-old intern to fuck. Oh, he doubted he was there yet with Alaina. She'd been with him more than a week now. He'd gotten between the thighs of ... Carla, that's her name! ... in just four days. Clark was slipping. It had been almost a month since he'd diddled a young pussy for which he wasn't paying thousands of dollars. Frank's mouth was a nice place to find ecstasy. The fag knew what he was doing with his lips and nimble fingers. But pussy was where Clark found his true joy. Young, submissive, tight pussy.

 

[HumanBean]

(OOC: Continuing from post #52)


The Australian Outback:

James Sullivan left his wife still asleep in bed to get to work. The Matluk drilling equipment had arrived. They were doing things differently here than they were in Chad, almost 8,000 miles away. In the African country, the Matluk were present by invitation. On the Australia continent, they most certainly were not.

A drilling shuttle emerged from cloak only after it was near to setting on the ground. It landed directly over the site James had identified as the best place to drill. It was less than half a mile from the cabin. He spoke to the supervisor of the drilling operation. Then, he returned home. The shuttle lifted ten feet off the ground. Powerful arms extended, reaching to the ground. The shuttles propulsion system deenergized, settling the craft. Now stationed, the shuttle's beam began drilling.

Arriving at the cabin, James found Camille awake. He sat on the edge of the bed. He caressed her skin. He kissed her lips. He undressed and made love to her. Passionate love. They lay there a long while, recovering from nearly simultaneous orgasms. And he told her what came next.

"I am expected to return to my people," he said softly. James looked into his wife's eyes. "I am expected to return to the mother ship. I do not know what is expected of me now. But I am sure that they will find a task for me to perform."

He didn't notice the change in his speech patterns. A change in tone. His cadence a bit different. No more contractions. He was shedding his Human characteristics with regard to speaking. James didn't notice it. Would Camille? Probably not. It wasn't how he was speaking that was affecting her now. It was what he was saying.

"I do not want to leave you," he continued. He kissed Camille again. With a serious tone, James asked, "Will you run with me? Run far, far away. They will probably catch us. But ... I love you, and I can't be without you."

 

[AnnieBloom]

White House
The Oval Office:

"You went the wrong direction with our new friends from the heavens, Madam President," Clark began.

The Vice President gave it to Angela straight, even comparing the Matluk Emissary to the former leader of Russia and, unfortunately, still current leader of North Korea. Then, he was on his feet, saying, "If there's nothing else, Madam President..."

Angela stood as well, which was normally an indication that she was done with whatever was happening before her in her own office. She had so much more to ask and say. She wanted to rail all up and down Clark and asked why he would do this to her? She hadn't done anything to him, so why? She knew why, of course: ambition. Clark had wanted to be the one sitting in this office rather than her, and he still felt resentment for the pounding he'd received in the primaries.

"No, nothing more," was all she said. She turned away to move to the windows behind her desk, neither shaking Clark's hand nor watching him as his departed. They were finished. Their working together was over.

 

[HumanBean]

White House
The Oval Office:

"No, nothing more," the President said. She turned her back on him. There was no farewell. No handshake. On the other hand, there was no further accusation.

Clark simply left the Oval. Passing by his two interns, he growled, "We're done here."

Carla hopped up without hesitation. She grabbed Alaina by the arm, urging her up. They fell in behind their boss. Clark was already barking orders for the day ahead. Carla scribbled key words onto a pad to remember it all. She was a bit perturbed. Frank should have been for this. Sure, she would still have been taking the notes. But the VP's anger would have been directed at him, not her.

They reached the Portico. The Marines there saluted their VP. They opened both rear doors to the limo. But Clark paused. His mind was wandering, no hurrying, toward figurative locations that likely should have remained distant at this point. "Alaina, go ahead, get in. Carla, a word." The new intern took her place in the stretch. Clark talked quietly with the old intern. He got into the car, but the door closed without the other young woman joining them.

"Let's go," Clark called to the driver. To Alaina, he said, "Carla has something to do. She'll join us at the Observatory when she's finished." They headed off the White House grounds. Instead of heading home, thought, Clark instructed the chauffeur to take the scenic route. The driver knew exactly what that meant. Clark looked to the beauty before him. He smiled. "How old are you again, Alaina?"

She told him. He was very conspicuously looking over her body. He loved those legs. "Pour us a couple of flutes of champagne, will you?" He gestured toward the bottle in the ice bucket that was incorporated into the J-seat's design. The bottle was already open. Clark had had the driver do so just after arriving so that it would be ready. He laughed. "Don't worry about the age thing. It's just us here now."

Clark made a quick call canceling an appointment. They pulled onto Constitution Avenue. They passed by the park featuring the Vietnam Veteran's Memorial. They passed the Lincoln Memorial, which was more distant and barely visible. I-66 took them into Virginia and onto the George Washington Memorial Parkway. Homes and businesses were replaced by trees.

"From what Frank and Carla tell me, you're a very smart young woman, Alaina," Clark said. He sipped Champagne. "You're also a very beautiful young woman." His eyes continued to walk over her figure. "This internship will provide you with experience you will need to get a leg up on others. Whether in college, business ... politics. I can do great things for you, for your educational goals, career goals, whatever they may be."

He once again gave her a conspicuous ogle. With a very suggestive tone, Clark finished, "I guess it all depends on what you are willing to do for me."

 

[AnnieBloom]

The Australian Outback:

Camille rolled off her husband's body to stare up at the open rafters of their cabin. Her chest rose and fell with the euphoria washing through her. She giggled, saying, "Well, I don't know where the hell that came from, but keep it coming, lover."

James had driven his wife to three orgasms over an hour, and hour and a half, she didn't know. All she knew was that by the sunbeams coming through the windows, the sun was still high in the sky. They did this sometimes, make love in the afternoon. Neither of them had an 8-5 job calling them away, so time really didn't mean anything to them, making such spontaneous moments common.

But that time now seemed as though it was coming to an end. James told Camille that with the end of his prospecting mission, he was supposed to report back to the Matluk. "I do not want to leave you. Will you run with me? Run far, far away. They will probably catch us. But ... I love you, and I can't be without you."

"Of course, I will," Camille answered, returning her husband's kiss. She rolled to partially lay atop him again, saying, "I love you and can't be without you, either."

She mounted him again, sitting tell above him and rocking energetically until they'd both enjoyed their third orgasm. Collapsing upon him, she drifted off in a bright, warming beam of sun spilling down upon their bed. When she finally awoke, she reminded James, "I have a trust fund. Remember? My father set it up for me after my mother died. He was sick, and he wanted to take care of me if, when he died. I can access it from any major bank. There's enough money there for us to disappear, I think. I dunno. Other than disappearing here into the Outback with you, I've never tried."

 

[AnnieBloom]

White House
The Oval Office:

Angela's Chief of Staff had been hurrying toward the Oval Office when he caught sight of Vice President Griffin storming away down the hall. He headed immediately into the Oval Office with just a quick knock. "What happened? What'd he say?"

"He didn't deny it," Angela answered, still looking out the windows over the South Lawn. "He says I went the wrong direction with our new friends from the heavens, his exact words, if I recall them correctly."

She turned to face her Chief, asking, "Did I? Did I do this wrong? Should I not have been so trusting? Clark compared Emelia to Kim Jong Un and the new guy in the Kremlin. What's his name, Kalishnikov?"

"Close," he corrected. "Kolesnikov. Viktor Kolesnikov. No, I don't think you did this wrong, Madam President. You needed to welcome the Emissary, as a guest, to our world, to our country, and to the White House. If you hadn't, Kalishnikov, would have."

Angela couldn't help but laugh at the name games. She wanted to believe that her Chief was right, and that Emelia could be trusted. The fact was that the Matluk were scientifically leaps and bounds ahead of anything Human Beings had developed. And even though there had been no signs of it thus far, Angela had no doubt that those leaps and bounds included weapons. If the Matluk wanted to wipe out humanity, they could. There was no reason to speed up that demise by being rude and pissing them off.

"Do we know what she'd up to at this moment?" Angela asked, clarifying, "The Emissary."

"That's why I'm here," he said, handing her a thin folder. As she opened it, he recapped what he'd been told. "There's some sort of major Matluk operation going on in Chad, on the southern edge of the Sahara, near the village of Matari, population 550, according to the CIA."

"What kind of operation?" Angela asked, reading the details.

"They're building something," he said. He moved closer and respectfully turned some of the pages until she was looking at a satellite photo. "That was taken yesterday at 1644 hours local time. Their local, not ours, obviously."

"I don't understand. Building what?" she asked, looking at a second image. It showed a much smaller pool of water, as well a large arc that cut across the terrain. She could learn that it was the dike that would catch the water to create the reservoir of the previous image. "It's an oasis."

"No, ma'am, it's not," the Chief said. "Before two days ago, there was nothing there but desert."

They talked more about the Matluk operation and the shuttles. Another satellite image from a second camera was from an angle, not directly above. It showed the drilling lasers punching holes into the desert. "If they can do this with those things, what else can they do with them?"

"Call together the Security Council," Angela said. "Two hours. I want to know everything that anyone knows about this."

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

After pouting one flute of Champagne she handed it to him and sat back.”If sorry Mr Vice President, as I informed Frank I don’t drink. It’s not an age limiter, I don’t like the taste of alcohol.”

“I've had it in the past at events and I’ve never found anything I like. Thank you for the offer.”

After he made his call he spoke for a minute about Frank and Carla and their assessment of her, and her potential for growth in the political arena.

And then his rather non-political statement to get in her pants.

“I’m willing to be able to do a number of things,” She told him. “Ever you ever heard the fries you catch more flies with honey than vinegar?”

“Perhaps we should start working out in the morning? I get up at 4:00 am I’m in the gym at 4:15, but you should know that, based on the camera’s filling the Residence and surrounding it.”

“I'm an exhibitionist, so I don’t care. Interns do get paid normally, but you’re doing me a favor so I do you a favor.”

“Now, I’m willing to go further if you go further. “Exercise, work out with me. Loose weight, and get rewarded.”

Leaning over she took the champagne glass from his fingers and returned it to it’s slot. “Step one, stop drinking it’s bad for your health. Lowers the stamina, raises blood pressure, and increases irritability. Learned that from my parents.”

“I’m sure we can even talk about what we both want, at 4:15 am.”

 

[HumanBean]

Driving along the Potomac River

Vice President Clark Griffin and his intern, Alaina Carmichael:

Clark's rather obvious suggestion that Alaina could go far in life by providing him sexual service didn't go the way he'd hoped. The teen didn't say no to him. What she said essentially was work for it. She suggested that he should join her in her morning fitness routine. Clark wasn't against exercise, of course. In the Army, he'd been at his fittest. Even after the service, he'd maintained a regular exercise routine. Running, weight training, swimming, biking.

His government jobs had begun getting in the way, though. Each rise up the political ladder had made setting aside time for exercise that much harder. He still used the treadmill and stationary bike daily. He swam occasionally. He had a fucking indoor swimming pool at his residence. He should have been in the water every day. But life gets in the way.

Alaina mentioned being an exhibitionist. Clark had, of course, seen the surveillance videos of her swimming topless in the pool. She talked about how well he was paying her. This was particularly true because he didn't have to pay her at all. Alaina then said, "...you’re doing me a favor, so I do you a favor. I’m willing to go further if you go further. Exercise, work out with me. Lose weight and get rewarded.”

Clark laughed. Alaina was beginning to sound as his wife had, back when she'd cared. Back when they'd still been fucking each other. She was also sounding like his physician. The doctor who visited him monthly had been harping on him to drop 20 pounds. "I'm fit as a fiddle," Clark had said. "I can still outswim, outrun, outlift, and outfuck 90% of the men I was in the Senate with."

"Maybe," the doctor had said. "But you'd be able to do each of those better at 195 pounds, as opposed to 215."

Alaina took Clark's half full flute of Champagne. She told him, “Step one, stop drinking it’s bad for your health. Lowers the stamina, raises blood pressure, and increases irritability. Learned that from my parents."

Clark wasn't an alcoholic. But he liked his Champagne. He liked his bourbon, too. But he could do without the both, if it meant putting his cock inside this teenage cheerleader's pussy.

“I’m sure we can even talk about what we both want, at 4:15 am.”

Again, Clark laughed. "Most evenings, I'm not even in bed by 4am. Make it 6 o'clock and I'm in. There really isn't a need for you to be up to early in the morning. You're not required to be in the office until 7."

He listened to her response. If she was insistent, sure, he'd agree. But right now, he wanted something from her. Something of a down payment. Clark ogled her curves again. Smiling, he said, "I'll commit to this agreement of yours ... on one condition."

He pressed a button. The solid divider between the front and rear compartments rose. "I want to see you naked. Here. Now. Think of it as proof that you'll come through on your end if I do on mine."

 

[HumanBean]

(OOC: This post continues from Post #83.)

Denver, Colorado:

Liam's crew had finished the job. The men had then gone their own direction, with half their pay. The other half would come when Liam was certain they were in the clear.

The arms and ammunition had been delivered to a barn in the countryside. The bodies were put in a van. As soon as the others were gone, Liam called in two fresh men. They had not participated in the robbery. They knew nothing of it. The rifles, pistols, ammo, and more were moved again.

Liam dealt with the bodies himself. Annabelle had called them her goods. He personally drove the van to the meeting spot. One of the two men, under cover, provided overwatch with a sniper rifle.

Annabelle arrived. Liam showed her the body bags. Then he said, "I want to know what the fuck's going on. Who are they?"

He gestured toward the corpses. He'd been considering the job's details. The secrecy. The current world events. He asked bluntly, "Are those aliens?"

 

[AnnieBloom]

Denver, Colorado:

Annabelle's people had been watching every move of Liam's team, from before they'd begun the heist to this very moment. It was helpful having access to every US, Russian, and Chinese surveillance satellite passing over the continental US, as well as your own shuttle craft with stealth capability. So, they knew about the gun runner's sniper and dealt with that accordingly. Just minutes after he'd found an overwatch position, the same technology that had deemed the Army base's population moot had left him taking a deep nap as well.

"I want to know what the fuck's going on," Liam demanded as soon as Annabelle's SUV pulled up and she disembarked to walk to him. He pointed toward the body bags in the back of the van, its back doors wide open. "Who are they?"

"They are my people," Annabelle said, her answer likely anything but satisfactory to the man confronting her.

He asked, "Are those aliens?"

Annabelle laughed. She gestured to one of the two armed men escorting her, and he went to and opened one of the bags. Inside it lay a Human Being, a blond, fair skinned man perhaps in his 30s who bore facial scars that quite possibly have come from an automobile accident or similar trauma. She asked, "Does he look like an alien?"

She gave Liam a moment to look closer at the corpse if he wished, then said, "Mister Nellis. I have more work for you, if you want it. It will make what you are earning from this job pale in comparison."

Annabelle gestured to her second escort, who tossed a heavy bag to the ground at Liam's feet. It certainly sounded like a lot of money, and if Liam looked into the bag, he would find the rest of his payment, $800,000. She continued, "You should be aware, though, that if you agree to continue working for me, you will have to commit entirely, loyally, without question. We'd start you out at, let's say, $50,000 a month."

She knew that Liam would take the offer, not because of the money involved but because he wanted answers. Once again, Annabelle gestured to the first escort. He unzipped the remaining three body bags. Inside were three more Human Beings, each of them blond, fair skinned men perhaps in their 30s. A closer examination would reveal that they were so similar in appearance that one might think they were all related, perhaps brothers ... perhaps quadruplets.

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

(Continued from Post #94)

Sighing Alaina looked at him. “Mr. Vice President, you seem to assume I’m your dog to obey your commands. I’m not. I told you Honey gets more flies than Vinegar. Polite seduction gets more from me. If you want pussy or a blow job get whomever you had the other night. I could hear her through the ventilation system.”

“I’m betting you used to get cheat codes to play video games so you could win without trying. Jump to the last chapter of a book to see how it ends without ready the story. Watch the movie so you didn’t have to read the book.”

“So far you’ve demanded and made threats. If that’s what you want, a bitch to bend over and rail, I’ll tender my resignation tonight. Stay in a hotel tonight and go home tomorrow. So be nice, and I’m nice.”

She’d dealt with more polite bullies in school, at least those dicks made it seem friendly. So far the VP was just an arrogant dick.

 

[HumanBean]

Denver, Colorado:

"Does he look like an alien?" Annabelle asked. One of her men exposed a corpse.

Liam stepped closer for a better look. He wasn't squeamish about dead bodies. He'd seen his share of them. The man looked like a normal, everyday Human Being. Dead, of course. But normal. Good looking. Alive, he could have been a model. Not now. And not just because he was dead. A nasty, deep gash ran all the way down one side if the face. Car accident? Plane crash? Explosion in combat? Who could know?

"Mister Nellis, I have more work for you," Annabelle said, "if you want it." She told him it would be much more money. She also warned Liam of the commitment. She finished with, "We'd start you out at, let's say, $50,000 a month."

Liam couldn't help but chuckle. She was out of her mind. Making this all up to tempt him into something unrealistic. Even the best private military contractors in the most dangerous war zones didn't make that. He expected imminent foul play on Annabella's part.

And yet he was contemplating her offer. How could he refuse. All a man had to do to say yes was look at her. (OOC: Pic attached.) She was one of the most beautiful creatures Liam had even met. He wanted her. Badly. He'd never have her if he said no to this. That was obvious.

"I accept the offer," Liam told her simply. "And my loyalty is the last of your worries." He smiled wider, looking her up and down. "Getting rid of me when you're done with me will be your only worry."

His suggestive vow must have meant something to Annabelle. She had the head end of the other three body bags unzipped. Liam stepped closer for a better look. One had a serious head injury. Blunt force trauma, Liam thought it was called. The other two showed no signs of injury to their heads. Must have died of other injuries.

Liam quickly realized something. It wasn't the injuries that Annabelle wanted him to see. It was their faces specifically. The four men looked the same. Very much the same. Like twins. No, there were four of them. Quadruplets. He looked to Annabelle. He saw it in her face. There was more to this than he could understand.

Liam looked closer at a man with no facial injuries. There was something familiar about him. It took a moment. When it dawned of him, Liam whispered, "What the fuck?" He looked to Annabelle. "This is that astronaut. What was his name ... Charles ... Gregory Charles. He was a Brit. Some sort of doctor."

He looked closer at each of the dead men. There was no doubt about it. These men were Charles. Copies of Charles anyway. He looked to Annabelle again, asking simply, "Clones?"

 

[HumanBean]

Driving along the Potomac River:

“Mr. Vice President," Alaina countered the suggestion that she strip, "you seem to assume I’m your dog to obey your commands. I’m not." She went on, reminding him about flies, vinegar, and honey. She accused him of being the kind of man who'd cheated his way through life. Of getting his women through threat and blackmail.

She wasn't entirely wrong. Clark had pressured a few of his past lovers that way. But only a few. Most of those who'd given him what he wanted had done so because they, too, had something to gain from it. Career advancement. Placement in exclusive college programs or private clubs. Money.

"I’ll tender my resignation tonight," she threatened. "So be nice, and I’m nice.”

Clark considered her words a moment. He lowered the solid divider. "Back home, please." Clark retrieved the bottle of Champagne. He filled the flute, returned the bottle, and sipped. Smiling, he only said, "We'll see."

 

[The_Weeping_Angel]

“Several centuries ago, European’s traveled across the ocean. They said we come in peace. We want to make trade. You have a mineral we want, we’ll take it and reward you for this ‘gold’. The native found it useless, heavy and cumbersome. not even as pretty as other rocks from the ground. Or as useful as flint from the mountains. Soon enough the Natives were nearly wiped out, those that survived were moved to places that were less hospitable to survival. Many did not survive the move, many more died in their new home in the first year.”

“What’s this Geovik used for and why do you want it?” M’Chel asked. “After all what good does it to give them water, and then kill them with weapons made of the material?”