“I understand.”

“This keeps happening, you’re out,” said Sol flatly.

“I understand.”

Sol fiddled with his lanyard and shrugged. “So, on a related note, in part because of Scio’s increasing reluctance to communicate with us, the DOD has recommended to President Cheney that the official information release be pushed back. Again.”

Dr. Sev sighed, and Cora caught that the likely reason for his serious mood wasn’t so much her personally as it was the whole situation. “When we asked what the reason was for the info release being delayed, the administration came back that a lack of communication does not inspire confidence, and they are concerned that the information they have may not be accurate.”

“In effect,” said Stevie, “they’re being pissy because Scio won’t talk to them.”

Cora leaned back in her seat. “What is it they want?”

Everyone looked at each other uncomfortably, as if hoping someone else would be the one to deliver the unhappy news. Finally, Luciana bit the bullet. “They want the DOD to take over the whole operation,” she said.

Cora’s face went slack. “Why?”

“Because these bleeding-heart liberals over here don’t take a firm hand with the multidimensional cyborgs,” said Sol, nodding to Stevie, Luciana, and Dr. Sev.

“The president wants the military to oversee everything from now on,” said Dr. Sev. “They are looking for any reason to do so.”

“That’s why Brigadier General Porter was being so . . . pushy,” said Luciana.

“Fuck no,” said Cora. “If the issue is Scio not talking to them, the military taking over is not going to help matters. Hell, if they do take over, he might—”

“He might what?” said Sol, now on alert.

“He might just leave,” said Cora. “You know how he feels about ‘militarists.’ If they walk in and say, ‘Hey, this is a military operation now,’ he’ll just say, ‘Okay, cool, bye!’”

Dr. Sev rubbed his hand up his face, parking it on his perfectly bald head. “Are you sure about that?”

“Well, we haven’t discussed this exact scenario, but I’m fairly confident that’s how he’ll feel.”

“Then they need to hear it from him,” said Sol.

“But why? Why would they think the DOD taking over would be a good idea?”

At this, Dr. Sev looked livid, an expression that seemed completely foreign on him. Luciana sighed. “Based on what we have learned through our friends at the CIA”—she nodded begrudgingly to Sol—“it really boils down to politics. The Cheney administration needs to put on a big-man act in order to compete with the Third Party.”

“Like remember in the ’90s how everyone was like, ‘Vote for me, I’ll be tough on crime’?” said Sol. “Well, it’s like that, but now it’s ‘Vote for me, I’ll be tough on aliens.’”

If there was any color left in Cora’s face, it was gone now. “But . . . they don’t even know what they’re dealing with?”

Sol snorted. “This is America. When has that ever stopped us? Let me put it this way; it traveled up the line to the secretary of defense, whom you’ll remember you had a little tête-à-tête with back at NORAD, not only that Scio figured out English in the space of less than a month but that Obelus learned it in even less time.”