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“NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT. I refuse to go along with that.” Had her father lost his mind? Helena pressed her lips together and shifted her gaze to Jackson Biggs, the president’s chief special advisor. This had to be his idea. Her father never would have contemplated such a horrific plan on his own. He was a good man, respected for his wisdom, his kindness, his fairness. That’s why the people had elected him.
There was nothing wise, kind, or fair about this proposition.
She glared at her father and Biggs across the conference table, then pushed away from the massive piece of oak, and stalked around the war room of Bunker One. “Rhianna is my friend. I won’t do this to her. She trusts me.” Helena trusted her. Rhianna Montclair was the only one she could trust. She glanced at her father. Everyone else had been compromised.
As Biggs had made himself indispensable, she had begun to fear the chief special adviser called the shots instead of the president. Rumors hinted defying him could be suicidal. Of course, those were only rumors, and conscience wouldn’t allow her to participate in this immoral plot.
“The dragons have threatened an attack. If we can import enough raw materials from Elementa, the situation might change, but as it stands now, we cannot win a war against Draco. They have the ability to destroy every man, woman, child, and animal,” Biggs said. It was eerie the way he rarely blinked, never raised his voice, never showed emotion. His classical features and polished smile made him appear handsome until you noticed the smile didn’t reach his cold, hard eyes.
“Sending a woman to become the concubine of Prince K’ev of Draco is a chance to forge a peace treaty between our two planets and forestall an imminent attack,” her father argued.
“A concubine? That’s archaic!”
“People have married to unite interests and holdings for thousands of years,” Biggs said.
Helena dug her fingernails into her palms. She wanted to believe she would awaken from this nightmare, but it was all too real. Two decades ago, alien dragon shifters from planet Draco had visited Earth. Relations had been amicable until Earth discovered and colonized Elementa to mine it for its precious, near-magical minerals. Then the trouble began.
How could we have foreseen the Draconians wanted Elementa, too?
The dragons declared war. Aware of the aliens’ technological might and literal firepower, the populace—those with the means anyway—had gone underground, holing up in basements, caves, and subterranean parking garages. Bunker One, located a mile beneath the surface, housed the first family and key government officials.
At the eleventh hour, King K’rah of Draco had extended a bizarre olive branch: if Earth sent a woman to become the concubine to his son, Prince K’ev, he would call off the attack. However, the Draconians didn’t demand just any human—they had insisted upon a woman of influence, specifically...the daughter of President Alan Marshfield. Of course, the president would never agree, so Biggs suggested a doppelgänger: Rhianna Montclair, Helena’s best friend. Both slim, pale redheads, they shared a likeness. In a pixilated transgalactic electronic transmission, they could be mistaken for identical twins.
“Except, a marriage of convenience isn’t your plan.” She forced herself to meet Biggs’ cold stare. How ironic he denounced the Draconians as “space lizards” when his gaze was decidedly reptilian.
“To send Rhianna as a concubine is a big enough sacrifice, but you’re talking about turning her into a suicide bomber and blowing up the royal court. I won’t allow it.” Helena rued the day she’d attended a college sorority function and met Rhianna. Amused by their resemblance, she’d befriended her, thus unwittingly placing Rhianna on Biggs’ radar screen. Of course, back then, her father hadn’t been president, and Biggs, the CEO of a mining development company, had been a mere financial supporter. She loved Rhianna like a sister, but now she wished they’d never met because then Rhianna would be safe.
“You won’t allow it? Since when does a mere family member have the authority to disallow anything?” Biggs replied in a chilling deadpan.
Her knees wobbled, but her skirt hid the tremors. “I’m this president’s special liaison—”
Her father held up his hand. “Helena—Biggs, please. Let’s everyone calm down. We can resolve this.” He glanced at Biggs. “We don’t need to do anything drastic here.”
Her jaw dropped. “Not drastic? How is sending my best friend—my unsuspecting best friend—to blow herself up on an alien planet anything but drastic?”
“Sweetheart, I would never, ever support this if we had an alternative. We don’t.”
“We can choose to not do it.”
“And be annihilated,” Biggs said.
“The sacrifice of one will save billions of lives,” her father said.
“Then call for volunteers.”
“Nobody would volunteer for this. And King K’rah requested the president’s daughter. Nobody else,” Biggs said.
“Well, Rhianna is not the first daughter. I am. I’ll go,” she bluffed.
Biggs learned forward. “That would certainly—”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” her father snapped. “Helena’s not going anywhere.”
Knees quaking, she jutted out her chin. “And neither is Rhianna.”
“Might I remind you, special liaison, the decision is not yours to make,” Biggs said.
“No, it’s Rhianna’s. I doubt she would go to Draco under any circumstance, but when I tell her what’s going to happen—”
“That amounts to treason,” Biggs said.
She planted her palms on the conference table. “Arrest me, then. I will not betray my friend.”
“You would prefer to betray your government, your planet?”
“Hold on. Hold on,” her father cut in. “Let’s take a moment and cool down.” The war room was kept cold because of the computer equipment, but sweat trickled down Alan Marshfield’s temple and stained the armpits of his shirt.
They could all use cooling off, but if either of them thought she would change her mind, well, she wouldn’t. She’d never openly opposed the chief special advisor before, but she hadn’t come this far to cave now. What he suggested was immoral, possibly criminal, and she wouldn’t go along with it.
Biggs stood up, his expression placid, his dark suit wrinkle-free, his white shirt starched and crisp as if he’d just dressed instead of having logged a sixteen-hour day. While the president perspired, he appeared calm and collected. “With all due respect, Mr. President, cooling down isn’t required. Helena, we are not seeking your buy-in, we are advising you what is going to happen.”
“No. It’s not. Because Rhianna isn’t going.”
“And how can you prevent that?”
“By telling her the truth.”
“Helena, don’t do anything foolish—” her father said.
Biggs held up his hand. “I stand corrected, Mr. President. It appears a cooling-off period may be required. Let’s take the night and sleep on it.”
She blinked. She hadn’t won the battle, but Biggs had backed off.
“That’s a good idea,” her father said quickly. “It’s getting very late. Perhaps...matters...will look different in the morning. Let’s revisit this tomorrow, okay?”
“I won’t change my mind.” She lifted her chin.
“All I’m asking is for you not to do anything irrevocable for twenty-four hours. Perhaps we can find another solution,” he said.
Truly, she didn’t see another option other than telling the dragons to go fuck themselves, which would invite devastating consequences. But as had been pointed out, she was only a special liaison, not a military strategist or an operative. Perhaps there were solutions she couldn’t envision. She loved her father, Rhianna, her country, her planet. She refused to betray any of them. Maybe a miracle could happen in twenty-four hours.
A good night’s sleep might help. Her head pounded from tension, and her stomach knotted so tight she wanted to throw up. But I did it. I went head-to-head with Biggs. I didn’t win, but I didn’t lose, either.
“All right, I’ll sleep on it.”
Her father rose from his place at the head of the conference table and clasped her shoulders. He gave her a squeeze. “You’re making the right decision. Thank you,” he said. “I love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you, too, Dad.”
The two men exited the room.
She collapsed into a high-backed leather chair. She clapped her hand over her mouth and stared at the blank vid screen, shuddering in reaction to the confrontation and the bleak future. The planet’s short future, if they couldn’t devise a solution. How had interplanetary relations deteriorated to the extent that Earth faced decimation? Couldn’t they talk it out? Rhianna, who had a degree in Draconian Relations and worked for the State Department, was the most qualified person to negotiate with Draco. But instead of utilizing her diplomatic skills, Biggs preferred to engage in the unthinkable.
Why couldn’t they vacate Elementa and let Draco have it? The planet’s resources weren’t worth the risk to their lives! Sure, its metals and minerals would be a military game changer for the country’s defenses—but only if they survived to use them. In attempting to protect themselves from intraplanetary enemies, they’d succeeded in drawing the ire of interplanetary ones and jeopardizing the lives of people from all nations.
Helena buried her face in her hands. Oh, Daddy, how did we get to this point? What happened? What happened to you? To us?
They’d always been a team, a power unit of two since her mom had died of cancer when she was six. Her father had promised his wife on her deathbed he would take care of their little girl. And he had. He had been her protector, her champion, and as she’d matured and his political career had grown, he’d proudly accepted her into his cadre of advisers.
Then he’d wormed his way into their circle. Biggs. Weekend golf buddy. Gubernatorial campaign supporter. Presidential campaign manager. Lastly, chief special advisor.
As he gained traction, she had lost hers. Biggs’ power had grown, and her father’s had weakened. The fear awakening her at 3 a.m. was that it wasn’t the elected president who ran the country, but his appointee.
What hold did the man have over her father that he would consider sending an innocent, unsuspecting woman to her death? A woman he knew! Since college, Rhianna had been a fixture in the Marshfield household. Helena’s father had taken her under his wing, going so far as to arrange for the less fortunate Rhianna’s post-graduate education. I wished I’d never befriended her because then she’d be safe.
Snick! The door slid open.
Her head shot up as Biggs reentered.
She jumped up. “I was just leaving.”
“Sit down.”
In defiance, she remained standing, although her heart pounded. “I’ve promised to remain silent for twenty-four hours.” She folded her arms and held her ground, although everything in her urged her to flee. “I am not going to send my friend to Draco. Moral imperative transcends politics. If that means you arrest me for revealing classified information, so be it.”
His mouth quirked in a chilling half smile. “Let me reassure you that would never happen. First, the president would never allow it. Second, well, arrest is how we deal with people who don’t matter. You, Helena, matter.”
Since when? Increasingly, she’d been made to feel she had no influence at all. Biggs had chipped away at her position, supplanting her as her father’s confidant. Rarely could she gain an audience with her father without the chief special advisor inserting himself. She’d been marginalized, her opinions dismissed. He’d succeeded in driving a wedge between father and daughter, and the gap widened every day.
“No, you matter a bit too much. Someone at the Justice Department might listen to you. Take you seriously. Take up the cause.” He rubbed his jaw, and, in the silence of the room, she could hear the rasp of whiskers, like nails down a chalkboard.
Among others, Patsy Winslow, her father’s assistant, had shared the rumor Biggs was called the fixer, implying he fixed problems, i.e., people, by making them disappear. She’d given the gossip no credence, dismissing them as politics, petty jealousy. Her father would not employ such a man.
Caught in a stare down, feeling like a fly in a web, she realized the rumors were true. He was saying nothing, doing nothing, but she could almost smell the menace. Oh my god. He’s going to kill me. If not now, then later.
She gauged the distance between where she stood and the phone at the end of the table. For security purposes and because cell phones didn’t work a mile underground, every room of Bunker One had been hardwired with a secure landline.
She forced her wobbling legs into a brave stroll to the head of the table. Her hand shook as she lifted the telephone handset. “I can warn Rhianna faster than you can make me disappear. You can kill me, but Rhianna isn’t going to Draco.”
His face remained expressionless. “These are your choices: Plan A: Rhianna goes to Draco, where, she might survive. Doubtful, but she might. Or, Plan B”—he snapped his fingers—“she disappears now. I have a man awaiting orders outside her quarters.”
The blood froze in her veins. The receiver rattled as she set it back in the cradle.
“I’ll take that as your acceptance of Plan A. But if at any time you feel compelled to renege on your agreement, Plan B goes into effect immediately.”
“You’re a monster!”
“Another word of caution: you would be advised not to share this conversation with the president.” Biggs strode to the door, halting before exiting. He turned to look at her. “I will always be two steps ahead of you.”
