"Status?" General Barkus was growing annoyed with the delay.
"Waiting for the President, Sir."
"I hate waiting." Barkus took in the media feeds along the far wall. "What's the press reaction so far?"
The reply came from one of the old sofas. "Overstimulated, I would say."
General Barkus had been planning this moment for five years, and others long before him. Moving the chess pieces of politics, the media and public opinion had been his constant task. It was the movies that paved the way, actually. If a UFO landed on the White House lawn and didn't start blowing shit up, it would be taken as a positive sign by most Americans and the rest of the world would have to stand in line. It was a bet, for sure. But the bet was that the American people would take this acknowledgement of reality without a complete meltdown.
"Show me the security response again." He turned toward the surveillance feeds and saw that the helicopters were still circling in formations of three, and had been evenly spaced around the airspace. The Secret Service and National Guard men were relaxed but very wary. Everything looked excellent.
One of the political pieces that was hardest to move was convincing the Secret Service that landing a UFO on the south lawn of the White House was a good idea. In the face of persistent determination from the White House and some key members of Congress, they had finally relented - under certain terms. It was proven that these aliens were from an honorable race well enough, but the Secret Service required lots of firepower on hand in case things went badly for whatever reason.
Mykal and Alisse had zoomed in so that the area around the White House filled the hologram table. The network trucks were arriving and scrambling to set up cameras in the best positions. Laughter rippled through the back of the semi circular operations desk, and Barkus turned to see what was so funny.
"Sir, the networks are complaining that the alien technology seems to be interfering with their communications."
"Ignore it. Let them understand that there are things they cannot control."
The President and Vice President had been fully briefed. They were briefing their minions at this point, somewhere in the guts of the Oval Office or wherever. "Five minutes, General."
General Barkus nodded lightly at Commander Duncan. "Murphy, peel the onion."
"Releasing White House communique alpha with a promise of photo ops galore at 10:30 Eastern." Murphy punched a few buttons. "Complete, sir. And, General, I suggest we might have the National Guard boys pull back a little. I don't think that much obvious security sends the message we would like."
"Nah. Let's leave them be. No telling what crazies are out there today." General Barkus turned back to the hologram. "Start the parade."
- - - - -
When 10:28 arrived, it was a moment that would be forever locked into the history of humanity. A puff of gray mist appeared to the right to the podium that had been set up. Out of this mist stepped three figures, and they stepped forward as the mist immediately dissipated. They were tall. Two of them were about seven feet high, and they were supporting an extremely tall person of about ten feet tall. They were thin, pale as a sheet of paper, with white hair and large blue eyes that seemed too far apart - on the corners of their skulls instead of completely in front. They wore white clothes of their own style that draped over their thin frames and hung down to just below the knees.
The press erupted in chaos. Some of them started babbling a report, others were frozen in place, and some looked like they were ready to run like hell. A few of them did. The next impulse was to rush forward to meet the aliens and interview them, but the Secret Service held them firmly in place.
