Tenth Planet:Oblivion Book 2

April 23, 2018 7:30 p.m. Eastern Time 174 Days Until Second Harvest The Oval Office smelled musty. That was always the first thing Secretary of State Doug Mickelson noticed about the place. Then he noted the large blue area rug with the emblem of the United States in the center, the antique partner's desk beneath the large windows where President Franklin did most of his work, and the white couches nearest the door. The room's oval shape wasn't that obtrusive--the first time he'd been invited here, Mickelson had thought it would be--but the relatively low ceiling and the comfortable furniture kept it from feeling like a mausoleum, as so much of the White House did. Still, all the years the building had stood in the District's damp heat in the days before air-conditioning had taken their toll. There was a general mustiness about the whole building, something an army of cleaning people couldn't seem to tame. Once, when Mickelson mentioned that the faint pervasive hint of mold played hell on his allergies, his best friend, scientist Leo Cross, had suggested using nanotechnology to clean it out. Mickelson had thought it a good idea at the time. Now, thanks to the alien attack, he understood how nanotechnology worked--had actually seen it in action--and he would rather live with the mold. He dropped his tall, muscled frame onto the couch, almost tempted to put his feet up. He couldn't remember being so worn out and so angry at the same time. Since the attack he'd had almost no sleep, and had wanted to punch a dozen people, even though he was known for his calmness under diplomatic fire. He was just boiling mad that the aliens had so easily destroyed so much of his home, his country, his planet. He was amazed the world had survived an alien attack. Thank God it looked as if humans had won when the aliens left, otherwise the world would be coming apart in riots. At the moment almost everyone on the planet thought humanity had chased off the aliens. Doug knew better. So did President Franklin and about thirty other people around the nation. And maybe a few hundred more around the world. But that was going to change. The aliens hadn't been chased off--they were just following a plan. A plan that was going to bring them right back to Earth for a second attack as soon as their tenth-planet home got into position again. And the fact that they were coming back had him even angrier. And scared at the same time. Not for himself, but for the millions and millions who would die in a second attack, not counting all the people who would die in the panic that would sweep the world the moment everyone knew the aliens were headed this way again. Humanity, civilization as Mickelson knew it, wouldn't survive a second round. It was that simple. Mickelson heard President Franklin in the narrow corridor off the opposite side of the room, his braying Bronx accent impossible to miss. Thayer Franklin had a patrician name, but that was the only thing patrician about him. His father was distantly related to some of the best families in New England, but he'd married "down," or so the pre-election news reports had said, to a woman from a blue-collar family who'd gotten a scholarship to Harvard. That marriage had lasted long enough to produce Franklin, and to prevent his spunky mother from finishing her Ivy League education. Franklin's father refused to pay child support, and Cara Franklin went home to raise her child. That was all in the official biography. What wasn't, seemed incredibly clear to anyone who met the small, dark-eyed, clear-spoken mother of the president. She'd poured her ambition into him, and he'd responded. Sometimes, Mickelson thought, the entire success story was an elaborate way for Franklin to thumb his nose at his still-living, unrepentant deadbeat father. Now Franklin was faced with the largest crisis to ever face a president. Mickelson hoSmith, Dean Wesley is the author of 'Tenth Planet:Oblivion Book 2' with ISBN 9780345484949 and ISBN 0345484940.