Project Boussh: The Enemy Revealed
by Majick

    Mike poked aimlessly at the keyboard on his laptop.
    "What is it?" asked Shalla.
    "Nothing knew from the intel groups. I was hoping there might be some
way to work out which of our suppositions was correct."
    "Ooh, I know!" piped up Elassar.
    Mike raised an eyebrow in his direction, quizzically.
    "Well, it's mine, isn't it? What else do you expect me to say?"
    Mike grinned at the Devaronian, and snapped the laptop shut.
    "You shouldn't do that!" said Elassar, with a look of horror on his
face.
    "Why's that? Unlucky, is it?" sneered Bror, from behind his binoculars.
    "No, it could damage the system. At the very least he'll just have to
sit through ScanDisk next time he switches it on..."

    Inside the undamaged wing of the Republican building, the candidates
Bush and Gore were preparing for their meeting with the Mendellian
ambassador. It was a diplomatic slap in the face that the country's ruler
hadn't appeared in person, but the Ambassador had been very explicit in his
suggestion that he knew who was behind the recent bombings, and would only
speak to Bush and Gore. Even President Clinton was barred from the meeting.
The press were merely being told that the Mendellian Ambassador was
forwarding her country's regrets over the incident.
    Few of the candidate's staff had any idea where Mendellia was, let alone
any idea of it's political situation. The candidates, therefore, had
multiple members of their retinues searching for information over the
Internet, but as far as that resource was concerned, Mendellia didn't exist.

    At the Mendellian embassy, the Ambassador slid from her bed, and into
her dressing room. There on the rack was a blood red pants suit, with a
black blouse. The Ambassador washed and dressed, then combed her long black
hair until it lay correctly against her shoulders. As she left her room, she
nodded her acknowledgement to the silver protocol droid that acted as her
secretary and servant.

    Mike looked through the binoculars. He had a clear view of the
Republican building from his vantage point. The four team members had
separated to take up different viewpoints. Each watched one of the sides of
the building. Mike could see the hole that their Nergon-14 explosion had
created. He smiled to himself, and keyed the comm.
    "Team, Four. That hole looks beautiful from my view. Good work,
Demolitions."
    Through his binoculars, Mike saw Bror bow formally, while the sunlight
glinted from Elassar's bright, sharp teeth.
    "Team, Two," came Shalla's voice, over the comm. "We have a big,
important looking car," Mike smiled "coming down, uh, Eighth and I streets."
    Mike swung his binoculars in that direction, and grimaced. A sleek,
black Suburban was indeed moving smoothly through the early morning traffic.
Mike zoomed the NRI issue bins in on the grille at the front of the car, but
failed to recognise the flag fluttering gaily in the breeze. He sighed, and
wondered aloud what flag it was. Unsurprisingly, the wind bought no answers,
so he tried the comm unit instead. None of the three NRI officers knew,
either. Elassar even ran a check over the Internet, but no database
contained the information they were looking for.

    Mike watched the Suburban pull up outside the Embassy, and let out a
slim, dark haired woman, in a red suit. He shivered, wondering if... She
turned, and he sighed in relief. Unless Ysanne Isard had undergone extensive
cosmetic surgery, this woman wasn't her. He wondered how aware the woman was
of the similarities.
    "We have a contact. Unknown woman and her retinue are going inside. One,
any idea where they might be headed?"
    The screen on Mike's laptop flickered on. Jace's voice accompanied an
image of Gore and Bush inside a West wing room of the building, sitting
behind a table.
    "Probably here. I don't know if you noticed, but at least one of her
retinue was an Imp."
    "How do you know?" asked Shalla, who was blinded by the building.
    "It was the naval captain's uniform that gave it away," replied Bror

   Presidential candidate George W. Bush, and Vice president Al Gore sat and
watched as the Mendellian ambassador walked in, trailing her retinue behind
her. She waved them back into their seats before they could stand in
greeting, and placed a small disk on the table. She touched he side of the
disk, and a small image appeared over it, a man standing military straight,
an elaborate uniform covering his frame. The man smiled, and reached out
beyond the range of the image. His arm moved, and the image grew, eventually
reaching about three feet in height.

    Mike, on a rooftop, watched this on his laptop.
    "One, Four. Where's our sound pickup? Can it be detected?"
    "Four, Two," came Shalla's voice. "It's a small insectoid sculpted bug,
on the window of the room. I sent it over when Bror pinpointed the meeting
for me."
    "Good work, Two."
    "Thanks, Four."

    The man in the image spoke. The NRI team heard it tinnily, but clearly
enough to understand. Shalla recorded everything, for later analysis.
    "My esteemed friends, I thank you for taking the time to see me," he
began. His clear, un-accented English gave no clue as to his origins. "I am
Eugor Atner, benevolent Dictator of Mendellia." He held up a globe, and
pointed at a small island in the Galapagos chain. "You have never heard of
me, I'm sure. Nevertheless, be very certain that that is about to change."
    "You said you knew who bombed us," said Bush, his Texan accent a stark
contrast to Atner's.
    "I do. It was me. Or rather, us. At least, we blew up the Democrat
builiding. The sloppy job on the Republican buiding? Who knows whose that
was. To be frank, I'd have liked to do it, but it was felt that merely
destroying one of your buildings would garner sufficient attention. It all
boiled down to a choice between the Democrat or Republican buildings, and
then, well, I must admit I simply let fate take a hand."
    He smiled, and held up a coin, which he then flipped. He caught the coin
and looked at it.
    "Heads. Hmmph. That would have been the Republian building this time. Oh
well..." He looked up, at the two men he was addressing.
    "Oh, do shut your mouths, gentlemen. Let me explain. I am a Darwinist. I
believe in racial strength, and through strength, survival. Now, your
country is what people refer to as 'a melting pot'. You take in the
worthless individuals who can't succeed in their own country, and let them
succeed in yours, at the expense of your own citizens. Ridiculous. Before
last year, I was in no position to change this. However, I was contacted by
some friends, who arranged my succession into power here in Mendellia. From
here, with their help, I was able to arrange for the election in your
country to be tied up in legal loopholes. I must tell you, by the way,
neither of you would have lodged many votes, were it not for my kidnapping
of the campaign manager of a third party candidate, who would have swiftly
claimed a good 98% of all votes.
    "But that's neither here nor there, really. Your country is paralysed.
You can do nothing, for the time being, because your current leader,
Clinton, is too busy training his wife for her own campaign in 2004.
    "Let me be frank, gentlemen. I despise America. However, much as I wish
to destroy it, my friends simply will not let me. They see America as the
country to lead the world under their stewardship. I suggest you pay
attention here, gentlemen, because it may be a little overwhelming...."

    As Atner expounded the principles, ideologies, and propaganda of the
Empire, the NRI team conversed among themselves. The idea of a super villain
was one common to them all, but none of the four had ever expected to meet
such a person. Usually it was power that drove people mad, rather than
madness driving people to power.

    "...so you see, gentlemen, you have little choice. Either you take the
presidency, and begin preparations for Imperial rule, or I have the
'Admonitor' pound the United States into a glassy skating rink, and begin
the tedious process of taking over the world by force of arms. And
gentlemen, I did ask you to close your mouths already, didn't I?
    "Oh, and should you think I am being facetious, allow me a
demonstration. Order one of your communications officer to attain the data
feed from your Hubble telescope."
    Gore gave the order over the telephone to a NASA scientist
    "Now, having done that, ask him to look very closely at the local data
feed..."
    This the scientist did, and reported a spacecraft of unknown type, more
than a mile in length approaching the telescope. Then the scientist reported
the loss of the Hubble feed, on all channels.
    "Now, I'm sure you see what my friends in the Empire are capable of.
They see our planet as being symbolic of the problems they face supressing
human-alien interaction. If they can condition their citizens to see other
races as different, human-alien interaction will cease, immediately. Our
goals coincide, and I am overjoyed to be working with such clearminded
people.
    "Now, gentlemen I can see I have given you a lot to think about. What
say I let you ponder for a while. You have the number of the embassy, and I
can, of course, be reached through my Ambassador."
    The image faded from above the disk, and the Ambassador collected it,
before nodding acknowledgement to the two men, and leaving the room. Her
retinue again tailed after her.
    Once they left the building, the two men wondered what exactly they were
going to do next.

    On their separate rooftops, the NRI team exchanged silence. Then, by an
unspoken consensus, they hurried from their viewpoints, and towards their
rendezvous points.
    Reaching the Capitol building, they paused only to take a deep breath
before launching into a confused, and confusing babble of ideas,
suppositions, and curses. Eventually, Shalla called for silence, before
adresssing the team.
    "We have to decide what to do from here."
    "We have to get this information to the others," said Mike. He opened
his laptop, and activated it.
    A beep, followed by nothing, except some very fluent Terran cursing on
the subject of computers and their genetic lineage.
    Elassar hummed innocently in the background, while Mike resigned himself
to impatiently waiting in line at the Internet Cafe again. They headed over
to Washington's sole establishment, but found it closed. A sign hung in the
window.

	"Due to the introduction of a virus of unknown type into the Washington
phone network over the last few days, the proprietors of this establishment have
taken the precaution of shutting down until maintenance can be performed. This
virus has affected this city's ability to access all e-mail systems over the
last day, and several corners of the Internet at large, as well. We expect to
reopen in a few days time."

    Mike swore again. Without a computer, no phone number to call, and no
money to spend, how would they get the latest information out to the NRI
teams? More importantly, when would Atner expect an answer to his proposal?