Alien Nation

by Gini Koch

  Hugged him. “And we’re all glad. Just like Siler, you did more for us than you realize while you were undercover and you’ve been the greatest since you’ve joined with us, so no more beating yourself up.”

  “She just likes you because you used her name for it,” Kyle said with a laugh.

  “You don’t know me.”

  “Speaking of knowing, if John had no clear idea of all of Cliff’s plans, then why does Kozlow think he knows all of this?” Christopher asked. “At least supposedly.”

  Wruck shrugged. “Cliff had a large organization that, as of the end of Operation Epidemic and just earlier today, was down to seven people he felt he could trust. He might have wanted to ensure that they could make his plans happen if he were incapacitated.”

  “Kozlow said that Cliff had a bomb implanted in everyone’s heads that he removed after Operation Epidemic. Did you have that?”

  Wruck snorted a laugh. “Oh yes, they put that in. I took it out immediately. Shifting makes the removal of an item like that simple. It wouldn’t have been easy if it had been created by my people or even the Z’porrah, but the level that humanity is at made it easy and safe. That was only for underlings, though. Stephanie, for example, had no implant.”

  “Huh. Cliff might think he’s blown your head up.” Wasn’t sure how to use that information, but if I was going to, tonight was going to be the time.

  “If he does, then he thinks he blew me up during Operation Epidemic. I doubt he’s given me any thought since then. Thinking about others isn’t Cliff’s strong suit.”

  “So, does that mean Kozlow’s playing us?” Christopher asked.

  “Jeff didn’t think so,” I reminded him. “But, trap or not, Cliff has Chuckie. We need to go in the back way or knock at the front door, but either way, we have to do something before it’s too late.”

  “Therefore,” White said, “the question is—do we go with the plan that includes Jeffrey, or do we try to sneak in and take care of things without him and the others?”

  My music came back to life and Jethro Tull’s “Back-Door Angels” came on. Felt it was a clear sign. “We go in the way Rahmi found. And we go right now.”

  Everyone pulled their goggles back on and pulled out whatever big gun they felt they wanted for this particular raid. Stuck with my Glock—I was used to it.

  Adriana turned off the light. “Mark this place and remember how to get here,” she reminded us. “If things go bad, we can get to the Burj Khalifa this way, and it may be preferable to land there than stay here.”

  We headed off, Rahmi in the lead, Wruck bringing up the rear, humans teamed with A-Cs, but all of us moving at the slow hyperspeed which always sounded like an oxymoron but wasn’t. My music changed to Alice Cooper’s “Welcome To My Nightmare” and I realized I’d forgotten something. It might not be a big deal, but then again, it might.

  Mossy was my trotting partner and he didn’t need me in order to keep up, so I hung back to walk with Wruck. “John, who were the Cettans and the Uglors?”

  He looked at me. “How do you know those names? The races have been extinct for several centuries.”

  “Someone mentioned them to me and said they were the example. But I don’t know of what.”

  He heaved a sigh. “They were older races. Not as old as us, but far older than humanity. Their planets were neighbors in the same solar system, a solar system teeming with many planets, all with sentient life. The Cettans were flat beings, you’d think of them as looking like a pancake. Highly intelligent. The Uglors looked like fauns, and did not consider themselves as smart as the Cettans, but they were hearty and very strong.”

  I tripped over a rock and he caught me. “Thanks. Sorry, I’m listening, not looking.”

  “That’s fine.” He put his arm through mine as we started up what, for this island, was its highest hill. Not all that high, but we were definitely rising decently above sea level. “The others in the system achieved spaceflight, but these two races did not—the Cettans because they had no limbs, the Uglors because they didn’t have the brain capacity.”

  “Did the other races help them?”

  “To a degree, but mostly they left them alone. However, the Cettans achieved communications with the Uglors and taught the Uglors how to build a spaceship that would bring the Uglors to them. Once they met, a bonding between races took place. The Uglors wanted to learn and the Cettans wanted to teach. They both wanted to go to the stars. So, they created a matching ceremony. Uglor and Cettan would choose each other and bond. The Uglor would carry their Cettan in their arms or draped around their shoulders, and this way, both would reap the benefits of each other. Both planets became as one, with Cettans and Uglors living in harmony on both worlds. It was quite beautiful.”

  “What took the beauty away?”

  “The Z’porrah.” Wruck’s voice turned angry. “The Cettans and Uglors were the first to receive the Z’porrah’s ‘improved’ uplift. They would combine to become fully integrated together. Stronger, smarter, larger. Able to protect themselves and their worlds, able reproduce as a combined being, versus as individual races. The Z’porrah made it sound like a paradise.”

  “So, they made the Cettans and Uglors an offer they couldn’t refuse. I’m just betting that didn’t go as planned.” I was also getting a feeling that I knew where this was going, and why Mephistopheles had told me to ask about this.

  “It did not. The combination worked, but at a terrible cost. The new beings that created were not what the two races had expected.”

  “So not a faun wearing a permanent pancake?”

  “No, not at all. They turned into giants, into monsters. Still intelligent, still strong and hearty. But warped. Their minds were no longer bent on learning and travel but on rage and domination. And they were able to dominate. They created many things, mostly weapons. Within a generation the Superiors, which is what they named their new selves, controlled their entire solar system. They were branching out and starting to control nearby systems as well. And their rage was legendary. Their rage made them what they were, both good and bad. But mostly bad.”

  My music changed to “Story of My Life” by Smash Mouth. But I didn’t need this hint.

  “I think I know how this story ends. Their leader got into a murderous rage due to real and perceived slights, and threatened to blow up their sun if all the people in his solar system didn’t kowtow to his demands. They didn’t. And then that leader, Mephistopheles, followed through and destroyed their sun, and killed billions . . . including himself.”

  “Yes.”

  “But the Superiors’ were a created race, something not occurring naturally, and therefore their souls, their essences, somehow survived. Mephistopheles landed here or was drawn here or, knowing the Z’porrah, was sort of aimed here. He made his perfect love match with Ronald Yates. And we’ve spent two or three generations here on Earth killing them, what we call parasites, and what you, I’d guess, call Surviving Superiors.”

  “Yes again. They were made to combine and they will combine with any mammal. You have not destroyed all the remaining Superiors, but I am grateful every day that you’ve destroyed all that have come here that you have found.”

  That we have found. “Um, are there more in-control superbeings hanging about on the planet?”

  “There may be. There were a billion or more Superiors living on the two planets when Mephistopheles destroyed their sun. A billion have not been killed on Earth. They may be landing on other planets, or may still be traveling through space, headed toward Earth or elsewhere, searching for a new host. But they aren’t all gone.”

  “That’s why your religious text talks about them.”

  “Yes. Unlike this planet’s religious books, we adapt ours as events in the galaxy change.”

  “Wise. Far wiser than us, but then we knew that already.”

  “R
ight now, I can’t feel that we are wiser, honestly, or more effective. We seem to have failed in warning the rest of the galaxy against the danger of the Z’porrah’s enticements.”

  No wonder Mephs had wanted me to get this intel, and also no wonder he hadn’t wanted to tell me himself. “And now the Z’porrah have ruined the Aicirtap. Was there any way to reverse what they did to the Cettans and Uglors?”

  “No, the combination was too well done, in that sense. As for the Aicirtap, who knows?”

  “It’s a new form of uplift, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, the Z’porrah are, at their cores, scientists. They are ever experimenting, ever trying new things.” He sighed. “When we were friends, they were the ones who came up with the ideas for how to help the younger races, and we were the ones who came up with how to ensure that the souls, if you will, and the hearts and minds of those younger races were protected.”

  “I always knew you guys were missionaries, at your cores, I mean.”

  “Yes, we are. And they are not. But, in their way, they are now the missionaries and in our way we are now scientists. And neither side is as good at it as the other.”

  “Interesting and good to know.” Would have said more but our line came to a stop as my music changed to “Depending on You” by Tom Petty.

  “We’re close,” Adriana, who was in front of us, said. “Silence from here on in.”

  Wruck had me step in front of him as Rahmi led us through what looked like just more rubble but what, as soon as I really looked at it, was clearly a path, and a rather flat path at that. There were wide wheel marks in the dirt. Had no idea what they were wheeling in and out, but supplies seemed the obvious answer.

  We reached a very old, crude elevator. Thankfully, there were stairs next to it, because not only would an elevator make noise—especially one that looked as ancient and rickety as this one—but hyperspeed meant we’d be faster in and out on the stairs, and far more quiet.

  Wanted to get up near the front but it was too late now. Almost tripped again, but Wruck caught my shoulder and steadied me. Had to literally regroup because of this, too.

  This put us even farther behind the others, but I was tripping far too much to go quickly. Was about to start down the stairs, but Wruck stopped me and indicated he’d go first. Wise. That way, when I tripped again, I’d hit him and he’d be ready for it and keep us both upright. My music changed to “Slow It Down” by The Goo Goo Dolls. Took the hint.

  We crept down slowly, me staying close so that if I did trip, there wouldn’t be a lot of momentum to my fall. We made it almost all the way down before I heard someone speaking. It was a voice I knew. A voice that sent shivers down my spine.

  “So good of you to join us.” It was Leventhal Reid, and he sounded exactly as he had when he’d been planning to rape, torture, and kill me in the Arizona desert. “We’re just about to start the fun, so come on in and prepare to die.”

  CHAPTER 86

  WRUCK FROZE and so did I. Reid was still talking. “Let’s see, we have one, two, my goodness, seven of you. And look, Chuckles, your girlfriend’s here to save you, too.”

  Reid thought Francine was me. Okay, the original hadn’t known me well, this was a clone, that was her job, after all, and she was dressed like me. Chuckie would know the difference, but there was no way he’d share that or react to let them know. The others wouldn’t, either.

  Someone backed up to us. Mossy. Good. So we had the three of us not noticed. So far so not really good but at least we three were out. Was really glad we hadn’t told Jeff to roll.

  “And won’t this be fun?” Reid went on. “We get to see the love triangle of the ages play out before us. We’ll let your lady love choose which one of you gets to die pleasantly and which one gets to be tortured first.”

  “Leave my wife alone.” Dammit. That was Jeff’s voice. We’d taken too long and they must have figured we’d been captured, so had rolled their plan. Or else Kozlow was a lying sack. We’d find out shortly, of that I was sure. Was certain Jeff knew that was Francine not me, but he was selling it, so that gave us whatever tiny advantage we might be able to assume we had.

  “Oh,” Reid said in the scary, lecherous way I still heard in my worst nightmares, “I can’t do that. She and I have so much . . . unfinished business.”

  “Enough,” a woman said in a bored tone. LaRue, also sounding grown up. Fabulous. “We can play with the food later. Right now, we have to ensure that dear old Russell learns what happens to those who oppose us.”

  So, Kozlow had tried, and failed. That wasn’t necessarily a mark against him. We were all failing right now.

  “No, right now, we need to get the DNA for cloning.” This was Cliff. I was pretty sure. But he didn’t sound like he had the last time I’d heard his voice. He sounded kind of shaky.

  “You already took mine,” Chuckie said. “Why do you need anyone else’s?”

  Had to figure out how to see what was going on without being exposed. Mossy apparently had the same idea, because he took to the air and slowly flew back up the way we’d come. He returned shortly and beckoned to us. Followed him quietly and, for my part, very carefully.

  My music changed to “Look At Me” by Sum 41. We were back by the elevator. There was a little alcove to the other side of it, and that’s where Mossy led us. It was a tight fit, and if Mossy had been human-sized all three of us couldn’t have done it. As it was, he had to light on my shoulder.

  The rock went to chest height for me, but there was an overhang of rock right above us that made this a great little lookout spot. Because it was near the elevator, it meant that we could see the whole room, too, but someone in the room would have to look just right in order to see us. This was a sniper’s dream location.

  My music changed to “Keep Looking” by Sade. Assumed this meant Algar felt it wasn’t sniper time yet and that I needed to examine the room. And what a room it was.

  It was a long rectangle—we were at the corner, with a long side to our right—cut out of rock, so the acoustics were excellent. We were a story above the floor, and there were at least two stories’ worth of space above. The décor was typical Mad Scientist About To Take Over The World Chic, complete with lab tables at the usual 120-degree angle so popular with the crazed lunatic set. And, naturally, Chuckie was strapped to one of these. Still fully clothed, which was a rarity, but perhaps Cliff was holding off on stripping him to the waist for some reason.

  That reason might have been that he had a bunch of other people strapped up to different lab tables throughout the room. Chuckie was at the far end from where we were, but the others were closer, on the middle of the opposite wall. Sadly, those others were indeed Jeff, Reader, Tim, and Buchanan. Didn’t see Siler and hoped he’d blended his way to some kind of safety.

  Those four were strapped near something that looked a hell of a lot like the android-creation equipment we’d found in Stephanie’s lab during Operation Madhouse, complete with a wall of wires seemingly ready to go. But their tables also looked like the cloning bays we’d destroyed during Operation Infiltration. Had an extremely bad feeling about this, made worse by my music changing to Alice Cooper’s “Clones (We’re All).”

  Chuckie was near a contraption that looked very like the death ray machine I’d seen in Bizarro World. Really hoped that’s not what it was, because this machine had far more than one nozzle on it. It was like four octopi had been attached to the cube within a cube within a cube, all attached by pipes at every corner. The arms were all thick and wide, like Doc Octopus’s, but, thankfully, without pincers on the end. They just had a wide-open hole, as if they were ordinary flexible pipes.

  The Killer Octopus did not, thank all the Powers That Be, have a glowing Z’porrah power cube at the center, though, so it gave me a little hope that I wasn’t going to see everyone turned into little piles of dust.

  Of course, the five guy
s strapped to the tables also had guns at their heads, which was, presumably, why Rahmi and Adriana hadn’t shot the place up the moment they were spotted. And the person holding the guns at the heads of my husband and friends was Leventhal Reid. As in, there were five Reids, and each one had a gun at the head of one of the five guys strapped down.

  The others, including Kozlow, were surrounded by more Leventhal Reids. There were twenty more Reids encircling the newest captives. All of them brandishing semiautomatics. Had no idea which one was the real one, or, rather, the Original Clone, but, for me, it was like seeing my friends surrounded by twenty human vipers while five other vipers loomed over my husband and my other friends. Basically, this place was the worst kind of snake pit.

  Everyone’s weapons had been taken away and were in a pile that no one was going to get to before they could be shot. Noted that Rahmi still looked like a G-Company thug. Had no idea if this was going to help us or just make her the first person Cliff had shot to teach everyone else “a lesson.”

  There was only one LaRue, interestingly enough, and she looked as she always had to me, supercilious attitude and bleached blonde hair included. Or at least only one that we could see. Why ask why. And there was only one Cliff. But it definitely wasn’t the Cliff I knew. And another couple of reasons for Chuckie and the others not being stripped to the waist presented themselves—jealousy and comparison.

  Cliff was in a white suit and sitting in a motorized wheelchair, which explained the wheel tracks I’d seen. He looked flat-out awful. He’d been a good-looking guy, always dressed well, always wearing a high and tight haircut, and though he was about ten years older than me and Chuckie, he’d always looked young and vibrant. He looked young and vibrant no more.