Chapter 23

WEDNESDAY 5:30 P. M. CST Clutch Cavern, Dwarven Realm

Aldana was still trying to get a minimally accurate count on the upcoming hatch. So far, the numbers were staggering. Her voice rose in volume as her heart poured out to her babies. 'I'd best get this preliminary count to Galden, at least it will give the leadership a clue as to what they are dealing with.'

Tuning her mind to her Lord, she sent, 'My Lord, my apology for taking so long with this count. First prelim has the hatch at roughly twelve thousand plus individuals. I am still counting and there are some energy signatures here that we have not encountered yet. The cavern is beginning to resemble a pot of boiling rice and I would estimate we will have the hatch at, or about, 7:20 this evening. Again, my apology for such a skimpy update, My Lord.'

'My thanks to you in any case, Aldana. This will give the coordinator a snapshot of what is on the way. Please continue with your count and comforting, Mom, ' Galden replied.

Aldana stopped where she was, shocked to the core of her being. The idea of Galden and humor in the same thought just wouldn't compute. Finally, she sent a stuttered out, 'Y ... yes, My Lord, as you command.'

Galden chuckled silently to himself after cutting contact. 'That should keep her guessing for the next hundred years or so, ' he mused. Then turning his mind to the updated Intel, he thought, 'My my, that's quite a hatch. I wonder how many will be staying on Earth versus how many will take to the new worlds. Should prove to be an interesting break down.'

Pulling his mind back to the business at hand, he then sent the updated Intel to the coordinator.

Mike was a bit flummoxed when the new data came in from Galden and then began thinking about how far reaching this hatch would be extended. When you figured in thirty seven worlds to spread this hatch out to, it really didn't seem excessive, certainly adequate but not excessive.

Thinking about what Gaia had mentioned about Mankind not being alone on the new worlds, Mike had one of those hunches hit him right between the eyes. "Hey, Pop, can you watch for five minutes tops?"

Gordon Kilian looked up at his son as one of the patented family smiles crawled across his face, then said, "Sure, Kiddo, just make sure it's five minutes, not fifty."

"You got it, Pops. Be right back."

Dashing around the corner to the alley way, Mike raised a look-the-other-way shield and then removed the manhole cover from the Nexus entrance. Hopping down inside, he was immediately taken with the changes he was seeing. Where there had been paths leading off to the various realms of faery, there now stood what looked like branching paths off of these also. Some, it seemed, extended for a considerable distance and reminded Mike of looking down a vast hotel hallway with doors evenly spaced along it's length. "Wow Gaia, you really are one sneaky old girl, aren't you?" he laughed out loud.

In his mind resonated the voice he had come to know oh-so-well, 'Yes, Michael, I am. Now get your butt back up there and don't keep your Father waiting on your curiosity. I swear, you're as bad as a cat, you little rascal, 'Gaia sent along with a chuckle and a gentle swat on his backend.

'OK, ok, I'm going. You're as bad as my own mother, 'Mike returned with good humor.

'And just whom do you think she got her patterns from, wise guy?' asked the voice he was beginning to think of as his second Mom.

'Oh My Lord, no wonder I could never seem to get away with anything. That was you tipping her off, right?'

'Got it in one. We Moms have to stick together you know, otherwise you little rug rats would get away with murder. Now scoot, kiddo, ' Gaia sent with the mental image that this was the end of this particular encounter.

Laughing as he levitated through the Nexus barrier and replaced the manhole cover, Mike groused good naturedly under his breath, "It's just not fair. I never had a chance to pull anything off."

At this, he heard gentle feminine laughter fading away from his immediate location.

A fairly insistent knock started on Henry's door. Looking up, he called out, "It's open, come on in, Alice."

Alice poked her head into the office and taking a deep breath, said, "Boss, it's time to make the calls again. My 'Spidey' sense is tingling like a five alarm fire and the place I want to avoid like the plague is the basin again. They are going to owe you so big time, you'll never finish collecting," she added with a grin.

"You're just as sure as the last time, right?"

"Oh God yes. It feels like I set my picnic on top of an anthill and the uninvited guests just arrived," Alice said with a shudder, "I don't know how I could get any more twitchy, Boss."

"Have I mentioned how amazing you are, lately? If I were only twenty years younger..." Henry stated with a grin.

Alice grinned right back, and replied, "Aw, thanks Boss. I've already got mine, but you never know when the right lady could mosey along."

"Oh sure, me, married? I don't think so, Alice. It's like that old saying; 'I wouldn't be a member of any club that would have me as a member'. Now I'd better make those calls and thanks again," Henry shot out along with a big wink.

Luckily for the city, Henry's calls were listened to by those in authority. By six P.M. the basin was cleared of any floating craft, but the outside perimeter was darn near hull to hull. No one was going to pull up anchor and motor away from what everyone guessed was going to be one heck of a show. Not with the Chicago curiosity gene on the loose.

As The President brought Al's briefing to a close and did his best to answer all the questions raised, he finally remembered one thing he had not taken care of. Reaching into his jacket pocket he withdrew his special cell phone and handed it to Al, saying, "Here, you're going to need this for camouflage if nothing else. Since you're already hooked into the mental comm network, just use it like a talisman to ward off all the overly intense yammerer's that are certain their information is vital. I haven't found anyone yet that had the balls to keep talking when this thing rings."

Then standing up and coming around the Resolute desk, The President reached out his hand and shook the hand of his running mate and friend, saying, "Al, you've been the best Vice President anyone could ever hope for and I know you'll do a superb job in the top slot too. I'd appreciate it if you could keep my staff employed. They're all good people and I know they'll do a bang up job for you. Now, I need to sit down and write some thank you notes, along with my resignation. Try not to let Marjorie scream too loudly when you break the news to her. Thank you for your service."

A half hour later Miles Williams stood up from his former place of work and straightened the pile of notes into one neat stack. Without a backward glance at the Oval office, he strode through the door and signaled to Art, saying, "Art, I'm headed for the residence and you'll find a stack of notes on my desk. Can you make sure they are distributed properly? Thank you for your service."

Art watched in stunned silence as his boss of seven years made his way toward the residence. There was no way to mistake that last sentence. He had just been dismissed. Feeling like a lost lamb, he wandered into the Oval office and spotted the stack of notes. The first one on top was addressed to him.

Opening it, he read:

"Art,

For the past seven years you have been an exemplary Chief of Staff. How on Earth you ever managed to keep the craziness from impacting my workload, I'll never know. But I did want to take this time to thank you for your exceptional effort.

At 7:01 P.M. CST tonight my running mate and friend will be sworn in as the next President of the United States. I've requested of him that he keep my staff in place and even suggested that it might be advantageous to him to have a dual Chief of Staff post created. Of course, you'll have to discuss this with him.

Day in and day out, I've watched you deal with events that would have most people babbling in a corner somewhere. To class your service as anything other than beyond the call of duty, would be a gross understatement.

Please know that if President Marshall decides to stick with a single Chief of Staff post, you have my most heartfelt permission to use this letter as a recommendation to whom ever it may concern.

I am going to miss you, old friend and I wish you the very best in whatever your hand finds to do. Anyone would be lucky to have you on their staff.

With warmest regards,

Miles Ryan Williams, President Emeritus of the United States of America

Lowering the letter, Art realized his face was wet for some reason.

Entering the residence section, Miles sent out, 'Honey, I'm home.'

'Oh, you rat, that's just not fair. Here I've been waiting for your voice to call out and you mind-speak me. Well, the good news is we're ready to go.'

"What?" Miles yelped out, "How could you possibly be ready to go yet?"

"Miles, you really are my dummy, you know?" Sharon quipped back with a grin, "Did you really think that formal wear was going to be the uniform of the day at the ranch? I've got everything I want to take right in this one little carry on case. It's just some family albums with pictures of the kids growing up and a few of the highlights of your two terms. Oh, and a change of clothes for when you finish your speech."