Halo by Paul Cook

Author:Paul Cook
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: aliens, alien artifact, alien invasion, alien ship, alien craft
Publisher: Paul Cook

25

The Floating White House had finally found the balmy waters of the Gulf Stream and was slowly headed toward the middle Atlantic states.

Which was all right with James Guthrie as he stood in an open-windowed room in the White House itself. He could almost smell land and the changes it would bring once they got back to living in a real White House on real American soil.

However, they were all going to have to face the Russians first.

The conference room filled with a dozen Soviet dignitaries, most of whom weren’t used to the pitch and yaw of ocean living. They stood stocky as bears and slightly green in color.

“Your President is an idiot and a scoundrel!” the interpreter shouted to Guthrie as the Soviet Premier himself stood by, a mound of indignation and seasickness. The man’s eyebrows were two shaggy raccoons above eyes afloat in a vodka hangover and Dramamine. He sat down heavily.

The interpreter went on. “All Scanlon wishes to do is play games and avoid responsibilities! He has defied openly all treaties! He has kept to himself secrets of the Seeds! He acts like you Americans are the only people on the earth worth saving!”

Guthrie took it all in the face like a level-five hurricane, and kept thinking about Hurricane Rose one hundred miles to the southeast of them and quickly approaching. He didn’t know which could be worse.

One of the Soviet advisers sitting around the conference table was holding an ominous black suitcase. Guthrie knew that within it were all the buttons necessary to make life uncomfortable for everyone on the planet for several thousand years. Soviet missile silos, like the American ones, were never Seeded.

The Premier continued his tirade as the interpreter quickly tried to catch up. At the end of it came: “Just give us one reason why we should not declare war! Just one!”

Suddenly a door at the far end of the conference room opened, and in strode Ralph Scanlon with a futuristic-looking rifle propped casually upon his shoulder. He was crisscrossed with bandages and scars from tentacle stings, but apparently didn’t care.

The Soviets, to a man, jumped up, going pale catching sight of the gun.

Scanlon swaggered over to the Soviet Premier, who was choking on his anger.

Scanlon grinned. “Now, calm down, Serge! Just you calm yourself down!”

The President of the United States hefted the huge gun away from his shoulders and dropped it gently—revealing his tremendous strength as he did so—upon the conference table.

“Let’s cut through the bullshit, Serge,” he said with a smile that stretched from Oregon to Maine. “We got us a whole world to clean up, and we’re gonna do it with these here beta-guns. Why don’t you just let me and Guthrie show you how to really hunt bear!”

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