by Gini Koch
Dulce went down fifteen floors. Way back when and what, these days, seemed a lifetime ago, Jeff and I had lived on the fifteenth level in what I called his Human Lair. There were many days I still missed the Lair, though our family was now too big to live there comfortably. But I’d have been willing to give it a try and, based on Jeff’s expression when Buchanan hit the button for the top floor and Jeff looked at the button for Floor 15, he’d have been willing to try, too.
We exited and, true to his word, Buchanan waited for the Secret Service contingents to arrive. As they did, Buchanan sent another text, and two more A-Cs joined us.
One of them I knew—Francine Alexis was Colette’s eldest sister, one of Raj and Serene’s most experienced troubadours, and the A-C we used as my body double. Which was a total compliment to me, because Francine was a Dazzler and therefore far hotter than me. But if you’re told it’s the FLOTUS and the double looks close enough, rarely does anyone question.
The man with her wasn’t someone I’d met. However, he did resemble Jeff. He was clearly an A-C, though he wasn’t quite as handsome as Jeff was. Then again, I felt that Jeff was the hottest guy in the galaxy, so I might have been a tad biased. He was introduced as Craig Rossi. Showing incredible self-control, I didn’t make any Martini & Rossi jokes, but it took a great deal of effort.
Craig was dressed like every other A-C or human agent working with them—in the Armani Fatigues. Francine, however, wasn’t dressed like me, but instead was in my FLOTUS Uniform—an iced blue blouse, black skirt, and comfortable black pumps. Her hair was down and actually styled, and she had makeup on. Clearly the idea was that I’d changed and primped after fighting Apache helicopters in the desert. Could not argue with the mindset.
“You’re escorting these two,” Buchanan said to our Secret Service details, nodding at Francine and Craig, “back to the White House. In a very obvious manner.”
“Are we flying?” Evalyne asked.
Buchanan shook his head. “No, it’s too dangerous right now. However, you’re going to go back to Pueblo Caliente and make a brief appearance where the President will shake hands with the mayor to show continued support. Then you’re going to Sky Harbor and being seen to be getting onto a private supersonic jet.”
“But we’ll use hyperspeed and actually go to a gate in the airport,” Francine said. “So everyone needs to be prepared for that because we have to exit after we’re all on board but before the exit ramp goes up.”
Joseph nodded. “We’re used to that kind of timing these days.”
“Then you’ll all go back to the White House complex and wait for when you have to ‘arrive’ at Andrews,” Buchanan continued. “Colonel Franklin is prepped for all of this.”
“Who’s providing the jet?” Chuckie asked suspiciously.
Buchanan grinned at him. “You are.”
“I don’t own a private jet,” Chuckie said flatly.
Managed not to share that in Bizarro World Chuckie and his family did indeed own a private jet. “Private jets are cool, and I’m sure someone can pay you back.”
Chuckie shot me the “really?” look. “I can afford to buy one, Kitty. I just never saw the need.”
Buchanan shrugged. “It’s a need now, and Pierre says to tell you that he got you a fantastic deal using contacts provided by Beaumont.”
“You know Vance has all the right contacts,” I said quickly. “And I can promise that he didn’t let Pierre buy some drug dealer’s used plane.”
Chuckie relaxed. “True enough. And, okay, if Pierre approved this, then I’m fine with it.”
“Who’s actually flying the jet back to D.C.?” Jeff asked.
“Airborne,” Buchanan said. “So it’ll be in good hands.” He shot the Secret Service a stern look. “And you know these two will also be in good hands, so no complaints about your assigned roles. The Head of the P.T.C.U. expects you to ensure that this fiction flies in all circles.”
The agents all nodded, then they encircled their new charges. Buchanan had them go off to Pueblo Caliente first. Once they were confirmed to be with the mayor and so forth, he gave the gate agent our coordinates.
We did the whole sordid gate transfer thing again, and this time was definitely longer, so worse for my stomach. However, where we landed wasn’t what I was prepared for. At all.
CHAPTER 37
WE WERE ON THE DECK of a large boat in what sort of looked like the middle of the ocean. I could see islands in the distance, but Jeff and I weren’t about to discover if we liked Bermuda’s beaches more than Cabo’s.
All the various things we’d had to handle in Pueblo Caliente and at Dulce had taken several hours, and by coming back to the East Coast we’d lost an additional three. The sun wasn’t setting yet, but it was definitely thinking about it. Figured we had no more than an hour of good light left, if that.
Had a pang of worry, since the sun set late at the start of July. Jeff and I had undoubtedly missed dinnertime with the kids. Sure, that just meant that Colette and Francine’s middle sister, Nadine, had ensured that Jamie, Charlie, and Lizzie all ate at the Embassy, which was where the kids did dinner anytime Jeff and I weren’t able to be with them. And sure, the kids enjoyed their now-special time with Pierre fussing over them. But still, it wasn’t the same as having their parents there.
Shoved all the Bad Mommy thoughts away. Right now, I had to meet an alien race. Another alien race. Before meeting a lot more alien races. And trying to get the entire world to be enthusiastic about all these other races. Yeah, time to focus on the things going on in front of me. Plenty of time to beat myself up later.
The boat was definitely government-issue, but also just as definitely the kind of government-issue that was supposed to be under the radar. It had at least three decks and looked like any other rich person yacht—unless you noted the gun turrets all around. And you had to actually look to note said turrets. Had no idea which drug lord this had been confiscated from, but was glad the boat was now on the side of good.
Mom was here, looking official in her P.T.C.U. baseball cap and vest. Jeff put me down and I trotted over and gave her a hug.
She hugged me back tightly. “You’ve had a busy day, kitten.”
“Yeah, it’s been a thrill a minute, Mom. Meet Muddy.” I indicated the Turleen.
Mom reached down and shook his hand. “I hear you’re the man in charge.”
“Of the contingent here, yes.” Muddy looked around. “I do not see my two friends nor the Old One.”
“They’re in the water,” Mom said briskly. “Rounding up the aliens.” She shook her head. “It’s been an interesting time here.” With that she led us to the port side of the boat.
There was what looked like a very large seal and two sea turtles in the water, and they appeared to be herding just an absolute tonnage of tiny blue and white creatures. Each one had a body that resembled a gecko with six rounded and spiny limbs or fins or whatever they were. They looked familiar, as if I’d seen them somewhere before.
“Glaucus atlanticus,” Chuckie said. “Why are we here to look at sea slugs?”
“Right! Those natural sciences classes I made us take at ASU really keep on paying off, don’t they?”
“Because they are not only sea slugs, apparently,” Mom said, ignoring my comment on my college curriculum. “They’re not from Earth originally.”
The realization that the hidden alien race we were coming to meet were tiny, lovely, little creatures that floated on the surface of the ocean nudged into my brain. “Um, they’re pretty and they eat jellyfish. How does that make them aliens?”
The seal leapt up onto the deck of the boat in a way no seal was actually able to do and shifted into Wruck. “They’re ready to speak with you,” he said to me and Jeff. “The Turleens are going to need to translate, however.”
“The sea turtles are your missing pals?” I ask
ed Muddy.
Who nodded. “Their names translate for you to be Dew and Mossy. Dew is a female, Mossy is a male.”
“Good to know. And you all speak Glaucus atlanticus?”
“No,” Muddy said politely. “We all speak Mykali. Which is what they are.”
“How long have they been here,” Chuckie asked, “and how long have you Turleens known they’ve been here?”
“For centuries,” Muddy replied. “It’s why we speak their language—if you plan to travel to Earth, it’s suggested you learn Mykali so that you can communicate with the natives who will not, ah . . .”
“Try to kill you,” I supplied.
“Exactly. But only recently did we realize that humans had no idea that the Mykali were here. It is because of that, and because of the others who are coming, that Dew and Mossy took the Old One to meet the Mykali.”
“After searching for more enemies,” Wruck added.
Chuckie looked at him. “And what about the Ancients? Or the Z’porrah? How much did you affect with all of this?”
Wruck shook his head. “I had no idea the Mykali still existed. We know of their solar system, which died, but what happened to the races that lived there was unknown.”
“To the Ancients only, or the Ancients and the Z’porrah?” Jeff asked. “Because it seems unlikely that your two races just ignored a bunch of others you could meddle with.”
“This happened when our races were still friends,” Wruck said. “At that time, we were still young enough races that we were unable to help with uplift or rescue. This system’s dying spurred us on to greater achievements.”
“If you can call what your two races have done to this galaxy achieving,” Jeff said.
“You mean the Mykali here are the only ones left?” I asked, lest Jeff and Wruck get into an argument we didn’t have time for and that didn’t matter anyway—what was done was done.
Wruck nodded. “Yes, we just confirmed it with this group. The Mykali’s home planet was running out of water hundreds of thousands of years ago, due to their star beginning the first stages of its death. The planet was heating up and the water was evaporating. Earth was discovered, and it was determined that they could live in Earth’s oceans. They came here in a mass exodus.”
“That’s sounds far too simple,” Chuckie said. He looked down on the water. “I’m not saying that the Mykali might not be playing possum and just pretending they have no scientific knowhow in order to remain under humanity’s radar, but if so, how did something without any actual limbs or digits create spaceflight?”
“Who did their uplift?” I added. “Because that seems to matter quite a bit right about now.”
“Neither Ancient nor Z’porrah uplifted anyone in that solar system. As I said, this happened well before we had the capability.”
“So how did they get here?” Jeff asked pointedly.
“They can’t survive out of the water for too long, nor can they stay congregated like this for too long a time—this high a concentration of Mykali will bring predators,” Wruck said. His meaning was clear. We were going to get this info straight from the sea slugs’ mouths or we weren’t going to get it.
“Great. I hope that the Elves have the contract for this boat.”
Was relieved that Buchanan and Mom had kept the Secret Service away because the argument we’d have gotten for this plan would have been extreme. As it was, we all just trooped into a lower deck and changed into swimsuits that were neatly laid out on the beds in each guest cabin.
“Thanks,” I said quietly to the suits. Had no idea where Algar’s portal was on this ship, other than potentially in my purse. Which was not going to be going swimming with us.
Jeff sighed as we got undressed. “This would be a great place to relax.”
“If by relax you mean have wild sex for hours, yes, I agree. Of course, I think the various new aliens around and aboard, not to mention my mother, would probably suggest we wait for another time.”
Jeff pulled me to him and kissed me deeply. As always, I was grinding against him in a moment. He ended our kiss slowly, eyes smoldering. “Well, it’s something we should definitely keep in mind, baby.”
“Mmmm, I love how you think.”
Swimsuits on, Jeff slathered the rest of me with sunscreen. Looked around the room. “I wonder if there are any goggles or such around?”
“Why are you asking in such a loud, weird way?”
“No reason.” Wandered over to the small dresser. Opened up the top drawer to find goggles and snorkeling equipment for five. “Huh, lucky us.”
Gave Jeff a set of goggles, a snorkel, and flippers, took a set for myself, then went in search of the others. Found them all on the main deck with Mom and handed out the rest of the gear.
Had to admit, as impromptu outings went, getting to be with Jeff, Buchanan, Chuckie, and White all in swimsuits made up for a lot of other things. I had one-third of a best-selling swimsuit calendar in front of me. Did my best to think about flowers, because Jeff was really able to pick up my lust, and though I didn’t have any desire to do anything other than look and drool a little, it had been a tough day for both of us and I had no desire to get into any kind of jealousy argument.
Jeff snorted softly. “I know you think we’re all hot. It’s a compliment that you’re trying to decide if I should be Mister January or Mister December.”
“Wow, that flowers thing doesn’t work at all.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Most of the time it does, because I ignore you as best I can when you start thinking about carnations, tulips, and roses. Figuring out what you were trying to avoid me noticing wasn’t really a challenge in this instance, though.”
“Blah, blah, blah. I just hope the water’s warm.”
“It’s Bermuda in the middle of summer,” Chuckie said. “That water will be warm.”
“You’re not swimming with us?” I asked Siler.
“Nope. I’m staying on the ship with your mother and the dog. Where it’s dry.”
“You don’t like water?”
“I don’t like swimming in water where there might be sharks.”
“I literally didn’t think you were afraid of anything.”
Siler shrugged. “I saw Jaws at a formative age.”
“You know that it’s rare for great whites to swim in these waters,” Chuckie said.
“And I also know that they do,” Siler replied cheerfully. “I’ll be here, manning the shark torpedoes, waiting to hand you all towels.”
The yacht had a ladder that allowed us to climb down into the water, though the flippers we were wearing made it a little difficult, so all of us jumped in when we were still above the waterline. Happily, Chuckie was right again—the water was perfect. Really would have liked to have a chance to swim and actually snorkel, but didn’t figure that request would be met with anything resembling enthusiasm from anyone else.
Once the rest of us were in the water, Muddy and Wruck both dove in from the upper deck, Muddy going to Sea Turtle Mode and Wruck again choosing Giant Seal. The seven of us swam to where Dew and Mossy and hundreds of Mykali were gathered.
Fast intros were made and then the fun of translations began. Dew seemed to have the best grasp of what the Mykali were saying, so she was the main focus of conversation.
“How long have they been here?” Chuckie asked.
Dew relayed the question. Heard nothing but what sounded like faint music, but she nodded and turned to the rest of us. “Since before you walked upright.”
“How did they get here?” Jeff asked.
Question relayed and what might be musical answers given. “In natural ships.” Dew sounded uncertain. “They are balls of earth that fly through space.”
“Meteors or meteorites?” Chuckie asked.
Dew nodded. “I believe that’s what they
mean.”
“How did they create them?” Jeff asked.
More consultation. The noises the Mykali made were very soft, but when they were together it was louder. “Are they a hive mind?” I asked Muddy and Mossy.
Mossy nodded his head up and down and back and forth. “In a way. They are individually sentient but when together like this, they can combine their minds to create a higher sentience level.”
Would have said wow, but Dew was speaking. “The Mykali did not create the spaceflight. They come from a world that was once abundant, as Earth is. Others on the world found a place to try to live and those sent the Mykali to Earth, long, long ago. The Mykali have waited for thousands of years for the others from their world to join them.” She looked sad, in as much as a sea turtle could. “They fear that the others were not able to leave their planet in time.”
“Or they found another one, or ones, to test,” Chuckie said, and I could see the wheels in his mind turning. “So, a race of higher sentience decided to send the Mykali out first, just like the Russians sent a chimp into space before they sent a human.”
“That makes sense,” White agreed. “Our people did the same with sending my father here, for example.”
Chuckie nodded. “It’s a tried and true formula. How long were the Mykali flying through space to get here?” he asked Dew.
More consultation. The Mykali’s voices sounded like singing and the more they spoke, the louder it was getting. “Their voices are beautiful. Are they what gave rise to the idea of siren songs?”
“Possibly,” Mossy said, once White explained what I meant by this. “They have on occasion tried to communicate with humans. You’re too far removed from them. We Turleens know of them because we have visited Earth often enough. Most of us don’t go to your oceans—Tur has only lakes and rivers, though we have an abundance of those, but no salt water. So your oceans are a bit . . . frightening to us. Some are excited by the challenge, though, so they have gone, as Dew and I are right now, in these forms. And in these guises they have met the Mykali.”
