The Admiral nodded behind half-closed eyes.

“Meanwhile, whatever the Russians are doing, there’s an alien ship coming,” the President said. “It may be that in a few weeks all our little squabbles will look very silly.”

“Yes, sir,” Wes Dawson said. “Very silly.”

“There are other possibilities.” Admiral Carrell spoke in low tones, but everyone listened. Even the President.

“Such as?” Dawson demanded.

“I want to assemble a staff of experts at Colorado Springs. One task will be to look at as many possibilities as we can.”

“Very reasonable,” the President said. “Why Colorado Springs?”

“The hole,” Admiral Carrell said.

NORAD, Jenny thought. The North American Air Defense Command base, buried deep under the granite of Cheyenne Mountain. It was supposed to be the safest place in the United States, although there were some arguments about just how hardened it really was…

“Will you be going out there?” the President asked.

“Not permanently.”

“But you’ll be busy. Meanwhile, I need someone to keep me informed.” The President looked thoughtful. “We have two problems. Aliens, and the Soviets. Captain, you’re a Soviet expert, and you discovered the alien ship.”

“I didn’t discover it, sir.”

“Near enough,” the President said. “You recognized its importance. And you already have all the clearances you need, or you wouldn’t be in military intelligence.” He touched a button on the desk. The Chief of Staff came in immediately.

“Jim,” the President said, “I’m commander in chief. Does that mean I can promote people?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Promote this young lady to major, and have her assigned to the staff. She’ll work with you and the Admiral to keep me briefed on what the aliens and the Soviets are doing.” He chuckled. “Major Crichton and General Gillespie are military. I can give them orders without going through civil service hearings. At least I assume I can?”

“Sure,” Frantz said.

Major Crichton. Just like that!

“Good,” the President was saying. “General Gillespie, Congressman Dawson wants to go meet the aliens in space.”

Ed Gillespie nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“You approve?”

“Yes, sir.”

Jenny smiled thinly. Ed would approve more if it was going to be him meeting the aliens. For that matter, I’d like to go.

“Help him do it,” the President said. “I want you to work with him. Go to Houston and personally see to his training. It’s possible you’ll go along, too, although that’s up to the Russians.” He grimaced slightly, then glanced at his watch. “They’re expecting both of you over at NASA headquarters. I wanted to see you before I made up my mind. If you hurry you won’t be too late”

“Yes, sir.” Ed glanced at Jenny but didn’t say anything.

The President stood, and everyone else stood with him. “The Soviet Ambassador has demanded an official explanation of why news of this importance was transmitted via private telephone call, rather than through official channels,” he said. “One of your first tasks, Major, will be to think of ways to convince them that this isn’t a trick.”

“That may not be easy to do,” Admiral Carrell said.

“I realize that,” the President said. “Others will be working on the problem.” He indicated dismissal: “Major, they’ll find you a place to work, Lord knows where, and don’t be shy about asking for equipment. Mr. Frantz will see that you get what you want. I’ll expect daily reports, sent through Admiral Carrell. If he’s not available you’ll brief me yourself.”

Jenny’s thoughts raced giddily. Here I’ve been promoted and am in the middle of one of the most unique events in history and I’ve been assigned to the National Security Council and personal Presidential briefings in the Oval Office! All because I went for a swim and let an astronomer pick me up in Hawaii. My friend Barb believes nothing is ever a coincidence. Synchronicity. Maybe there’s something to it…

“Now all I have to do is figure out where to put you,” the Chief of Staff was saying. “The President will want you in this building. I guess I’ll have to exile someone else to Old EOP.”

He was striding briskly down the hail. Jenny followed. They reached a desk at the end of the hall. The man who’d led her to the Oval Office was seated there.

“Jack,” the Chief of Staff said, “meet another member of our family, Major Jeanette Crichton. The President has assigned her to his staff. NSC. She’ll have regular personal access.”

“Right.” He studied her again.

“This is Jack Clybourne,” Jim Frantz said. “Secret Service.”

“I worry about keeping the chief healthy,” Clyboume said.

“Get word to all the security people, Jack.” Frantz turned to Jenny. “Major I’d like you to check in this evening about four … I should have some room for you by then. Meanwhile — oh. You came with General Gillespie. You’ve lost your ride.”

“No problem sir.”

“Right. Thanks.” He started down the hall, stopped, and turned his head but not his body. “Welcome aboard,” he said over his shoulder. He scurried off. Jenny giggled, and Clybourne gave her an answering smile. “He’s a worrier, that one.”

“I gathered. What’s next?”

“Fingerprints. Have to be suit you’re you.”

“Oh. Who does that?”

“I can if you like.” Clybourne lifted a phone and spoke for a few moments. Presently another clean-cut young man entered and sat at the desk.

“Tom Bucks,” Clyboume said. “Captain Jeanette Crichton … Next time you see her she’ll be wearing oak leaves. The President just promoted her. She’s the newest addition to NSC. Personal access.”

“Hi,” Bucks said. He studied her, and Jenny felt he was memorizing every pore on her face. They both act that way. Of course. Not Joe Gland, just a Secret Service agent doing his job.

Clybourne led the way downstairs and through a small staff lounge. “I keep gear back here,” he said. He took out a large black case and put fingerprinting apparatus on the counter of the coffee machine.

“You really have to do this? My prints are on file.”

“Sure. What I have to be sure of is that the pretty girl I’m talking to now is the same Jeanette Crichton the Army commissioned.”

“I suppose,” she said.

He took her hand. “Just relax, and let me do the work.”

She’d been through the routine before. Clybourne was good at it. Eventually he handed her a jar of waterless cleanser and some paper towels.

“How did you know the President had promoted me?” she asked.

“The appointment list said ‘Captain,’ and the Chief of Staff called you ‘Major.’ Jim Frantz doesn’t make that kind of mistake.”

And you don’t miss much, either.

She cleaned the black goo from her hands while Clybourne poured two cups of coffee from the pot on the table. He handed her one. “Somebody said you live in Washington?”

“Grew up here,” she said. “Which reminds me, can you call me a cab?”