Now it was time to tour the Distant Voyager. Not everyone was allowed in, but the First Family definitely was, and that meant our entourage was as well. Sure, most of that entourage were security personnel, but still, it worked out. And no one asked about Algar, beyond formal introductions. He was carrying the Royal Hatbox and no one asked about that, either. Chose not to care or complain, nor ask why he was the one who handed me my purse back. Put it over my neck and followed the Lucky Herd up and into the ship.
The Visiting Dignitaries weren’t making a fuss about getting inside because they’d been toured through the ship last week, so as to keep everyone safe and keep the media out. Same with anyone else who felt they had an “in” with Jeff, me, or anyone else related to the ship. So we had fewer people to deal with, and most of them were in Jeff’s Cabinet or similar, though we did have American Centaurion well represented, Embassy personnel in particular and, of course, Alpha Team was here, because it was their job to be and, besides, it was fun to share this with our closest friends and family.
The news crews allowed inside weren’t nearly as numerous as those that had been there for the speech. Basically it was the Good Day USA! crew, Bruce Jenkins, aka the Tastemaker, top investigative journalist Mister Joel Oliver, and the photographer/cameraman they both used these days, Dion Callen France. That was it, because privilege had its benefits and those news teams that had shown their loyalty to us were the ones with the privilege and therefore the benefits.
Brian was in charge of the media spin and all visitors inside the ship. He wasn’t the Commander—that fell to Daniel Chee, whom we’d met during Operation Drug Addict—but he was second in command and, since he was married to the President’s cousin, that gave him the face role. The rest of the crew seemed more than happy to let Brian have the spotlight, too.
All of Airborne were also crew on the flight and part of the crew. Tim Crawford—Head of Airborne and still doing the job of mine that was my favorite—and my flyboys had been to the Alpha Centauri system and flown spaceships that were not Earth or even human created. They’d earned their spots. Besides, as Chuckie put it, that way we’d have six guys who’d shoot first and ask questions later if anything went wrong. And since A-Cs had reflexes so fast that they couldn’t work human machinery, it made more sense to have humans on the crew than not.
We’d had one A-C astronaut—the late Michael Gower. But no other A-Cs had shown an interest, so even though the Distant Voyager had controls an A-C could use and not destroy, I’d had to assign my A-C security team to be on the ship. They were the only A-Cs that were going to be on board. They weren’t thrilled with the assignment, but they’d stopped whining about it weeks ago.
Like Amy and their kids, Christopher wasn’t with us. But since he was literally the fastest man alive, no one could see him if he was moving at his version of hyperspeed, which is what he did during things like this so that he could intervene in case things went wrong. He was outside, manning the perimeter, ensuring that nothing bad could happen there, ready to be called in if needed.
Otherwise, most everyone’s spouses or significant others were here, too, though their kids were presumably wherever Amy and hers were, being safe and not touching things. Additionally, we had Prince Wasim of Bahrain and his personal bodyguard, Naveed Murad, with us. Wasim was eighteen now, a senior at the Sidwell Friends School, and still hoping to get Lizzie to select him as her Dude Of Choice. Until that time, he was making do with being her best friend and enjoying hanging out with all of our friends and family.
Due to a variety of circumstances, Wasim had been moved into the White House with us for a while. He had an apartment at the Cairo, but he’d given it to Marcia and her family in a gracious move during Operation Fundraiser. Ultimately, we’d moved him and Naveed into the Embassy, where we could keep them both safe and Wasim wasn’t sleeping down the hall from Lizzie but was sleeping down the hall from Siler. His grandfather, King Raheem of Bahrain, approved of all of this, which was what mattered, since he was one of our staunchest allies in the Middle East.
One of our other staunchest Middle Eastern allies was here, too. Ali Baba Gadhavi, the notorious crime lord turned Galactic Good Guy was in the select viewing group. This was because his schedule hadn’t allowed for him to come when the other dignitaries had taken their tour. While I thought of King Raheem as a teddy bear, Gadhavi was definitely a grizzly, and you made accommodations for grizzlies. Besides, Gadhavi had made it a personal goal to help Wasim get game, and I appreciated that he made the effort, because I liked Wasim a lot and the kid needed all the help he could get.
The press was having a field day, filming, photographing, and interviewing everyone who was on board. Because we’d been infiltrated by a fake Good Day USA! cameraman during Operation Fundraiser, Len and Kyle had been put on camera duty once the interior tour started, so they were with Adam and the Kristie-Bot, going all over the ship with White and Gower, who were doing whatever it was Former and Current Supreme Pontifexes did at times like these, which was probably wrangling most of the politicians, who were staying as near to the film crew as possible.
“It’s very Star Trek, isn’t it?” I asked Nathalie quietly, while we stood around and listened to Brian describe the command deck and I held Charlie so that Chuckie could do his Director of the CIA thing which meant wander off and spy on people, but casually. Jamie was with Lizzie and Wasim, who was holding her on his shoulder so she could see over everyone’s heads.
She nodded. “But it makes sense. The crew will be living here, even though the trip shouldn’t take too long.”
Would have replied but realized that I didn’t see Algar or the Royal Hatbox anywhere. Did my best to look around surreptitiously. Hadn’t had a chance to advise Christopher of Algar or the least weasels’ presence and didn’t want an accidental incident—I truly wasn’t sure if Christopher could move faster than Algar could see and now wasn’t the time to find out.
Also wasn’t sure what Algar could or couldn’t hide from Siler. Not that I could tell where Siler was, either. He was likely blending and possibly outside with Christopher. Or they could both be standing next to me or moving at warp speed throughout the ship. Basically, I wouldn’t know so I chose not to worry about it.
Didn’t spot the rest of Team Tough Guys, either, but that just meant that Buchanan didn’t want me to see him, and John Wruck, who was an Anciannas and our version of the Martian Manhunter, could have merely shape-shifted into someone innocuous in order to blend in. Or they were all outside with Christopher, too.
Brian led us off the command deck and down to the crew’s quarters. These were really nice and I could see all the Drax Industrial touches that made the ship more than merely functional. It would be a pleasant place to spend time, even on longer flights where warp might not be used.