by Gini Koch
“Okay, great, we know that,” Tim said patiently. “But her boss is dead and her ‘boyfriend’ almost died. So where the hell is she?”
“On it,” Lorraine said. She and Claudia kicked up the hyperspeed and disappeared. The Secret Service didn’t even blink. This should have been flattering to me, but it was just a reminder that my every move was being watched and everyone was focused on ensuring that I’d never see any action ever again. Haters.
“That never stops being . . . odd,” Elaine said. “So, while we wait for the Captains to return, I’d like to go over the remaining personnel with Mister Singh and Mister Reynolds. I’m certain we need to remove some others, just in case. Starting with the Secretary of the Treasury, but he won’t be the only one.”
Jeff groaned quietly. “I’m running out of people I know and trust who can move into these positions.”
Elaine patted his arm. “It will be fine, Jeff. You have a strong team. They’ll be able to sort things out.”
“We need a Secretary of State,” Jeff said. “Badly. And as far as I can tell, we have no ideas.”
Looked at Mom, who had a look on her face I was familiar with—her I’ve Practically Spelled It Out For You look. Considered this while Elaine, Raj, and Chuckie started to quickly go over the Cabinet and White House staffers. Elaine knew all of them. And had details on all of them, too, as well as recommendations. Clear, concise, and well-thought-out recommendations.
Cleared my throat and got their attention. “Ah, Elaine, have a couple quick questions.”
“Certainly, Kitty. What?”
“What did you do before Vince became the President? For work, I mean.”
“Oh, well, I was an attorney. I worked for several large firms and two Fortune Fifty corporations. None of those on your watch list.”
“Not where I was going with this, but good to know. You stopped because of Vince’s political career?”
“Because of his presidential run, really. He needed my full focus.”
“Gotcha, and I can see how that would be.” Jeff had certainly needed mine. “What’s your undergrad degree in?”
“I had a double major—Urban Planning and Public Affairs with a minor in Public Policy, in addition to Psychology. But it looked like all I’d be able to do was teach, which is why I got my law degree. Why?”
“What colleges?”
“University of Illinois at Chicago for my undergrad degrees, Harvard for law. Again, why?”
“Both of those are good schools.” Looked at Mom. “Will it cause a lot of problems?”
She shrugged. “Probably. However, you’re all nothing if not unconventional. And it will quell a variety of rumors.”
“Like Jeff being the one who had Vince killed? Yeah, I can see that.”
Jeff was looking at us, eyes narrowed. “My blocks are up, so all I’m getting is that you’re really excited, baby. And that Angela’s amused by all of the rest of us being slow on the uptake. And Elaine’s confused. Like the rest of us.”
“Sorry, let me clear it all up for you. Elaine’s your new Secretary of State.”
CHAPTER 10
WHILE EVERYONE OTHER than Mom stared at me openmouthed, I took the opportunity to sniff some roses. I mean, why not?
Elaine recovered first. “I, ah, think that would be met with a great deal of . . . resistance.”
“Nope,” I said as I stopped sniffing. “I can promise you that, right now, Congress is likely to approve pretty much everything Jeff wants.”
“Why would you think that?” Chuckie asked. “It seems remarkably naïve.”
“I’m not naïve, I’m realistic. And we have a slew of aliens snorking down whatever Chef’s prepared that tell me that what Jeff wants, Jeff gets.”
“The Planetary Council isn’t here to control our government,” Jeff protested.
Managed not to roll my eyes. “Of course they are, Jeff. At least, they’re here to influence it. They weren’t here to kill anyone and force a takeover or anything like that. But they were indeed coming to have a chat with our President and his VP about getting Earth involved in galactic politics. Trust me, that means they have an agenda. And there’s not a single politician on the Hill who won’t realize that. And there’s also not a single one who will want to be seen as working against you. They all remember Operation Destruction.”
“True enough,” Chuckie said.
“So, they’ll let you appoint whoever the hell you want, providing that person isn’t clearly an enemy of the state or totally bonkers by D.C. standards, which gives you wide range. They’ll wait until the Planetary Council leaves before they start actively working against you. In other words, the moment the Galactic Police are gone, it’ll be back to political business as usual.”
“Leonidas knows this, even if Alexander doesn’t,” Chuckie added. “I’d assume he’s banking on it.”
“Ah, Elaine, do you want the job?” Jeff asked.
She looked at Mom. “That’s why you brought me out here?”
Mom shrugged. “So many times, the best man for the job is a woman. Sometimes that woman has been overlooked because she was being a good wife. But right now, the country needs the right leadership. Not people who want it, necessarily, but those who will actually do with the power as they should.”
“Senator McMillan always says that you have to do what you know is right, even when you might not want to, unless you can know the hearts and minds of those who would or could take your place.”
“Don’s a good man. I . . . I’d like to know his opinion on this, before I say yes or no.”
“Figured you would.” Mom held out her phone. I read the text on it before Elaine did. Elaine Armstrong is a bold and wonderful choice for Secretary of State. If you can convince her, I can convince Congress.
Elaine seemed overwhelmed. “If this helps you make your decision, I’d appreciate it if you said yes,” Jeff said gently.
She smiled and looked up at him. “It does. Yes, Mister President, thank you, I’ll take the position.”
Tim’s phone beeped. “Glad we have that settled. We need to get through the rest of this, then Chuck, Raj, and Elaine need to go through the entire White House staff pronto. Per Claudia and Lorraine, Marion Villanova has disappeared.”
“I’m renaming the Super Group to the Noxious Nine.”
“Duly noted,” Chuckie said with a laugh.
Reader’s phone beeped. “What Tim said. And, per Buchanan, Drax is here.”
“Time to keep the party going, apparently.” Turned to Elaine as some of the others started off. “Is it too forward of me to ask you to move your stuff into a room you’d prefer here at the White House?”
If getting asked to become the Secretary of State had shocked her, this request of mine definitely took that shock all the way up to eleven. “Ah . . . what?”
Heaved a sigh. “I’m already stressing Antoinette and the rest of the staff out of their minds. And it’s only been a week and we aren’t moved in yet. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like for them by next week, but either they need help or I need help.”
Elaine laughed and patted my hand. “Sorry, I already put a deposit down on an apartment at the Cairo, based on Nathalie’s suggestion. We’re going to be neighbors.”
I’d been shocked when Nathalie hadn’t moved out of the building where her husband had been murdered. But she’d said that Edmund had loved it there so much that she couldn’t bear to leave it. Apparently this was true, and she was starting the Washington Widow’s Wing. Sincerely hoped there weren’t going to be more residents there any time soon.
“Oh well, it was worth a shot.”
“I don’t know why you’re worried. Your Pierre will solve everything.”
“But he’s the Embassy’s Concierge Majordomo. I can’t make him the Chief Usher here. So what role could he have?”
“You’re kidding.”
“No.” She smiled. “You have almost as many positions to fill as Jeff does.”
“Gee, how lucky can you get?”
“So, go get your man away from that other woman.”
Burst out laughing. “I’ll definitely have to fight Doreen for him. Especially since I don’t have a suggestion for who could replace him.” And the Embassy needed Pierre as much as I did. Maybe more than I did—Pierre was not only the most competent man on Earth, he was also the only one in the Embassy not changing roles or having his life upended in some way.
Elaine shrugged. “You’ll figure it out, Kitty. I have total faith in you.” She squeezed my hand. “Just like you do in me.” She kissed my cheek. “Thank you for the vote of confidence. I think this is what Vince would have wanted.”
“I’m sure of it.”
Everyone else started off now, Elaine and Jeff discussing something extremely political that I decided I didn’t need to know about.
Noted Serene and Mom, mostly because they weren’t going inside and, in fact, weren’t even facing the way the others were—they were looking off in the distance. Looked where they were as I went to join them.
There was someone coming toward us from the South Lawn. Due to what had just gone on, any White House tours had been suspended until the government was back in order. So all tourists and visitors were supposed to be kept out. Yet there was a woman getting nearer.
As I reached Mom and Serene I realized a couple of things. The woman coming toward us looked like me and she was wearing a pink linen suit. I’d owned a suit like that, six years ago. A suit exactly like it, in fact. And I’d been wearing that suit when my first superbeing formed in front of me and Operation Fugly started. And she, in point of fact, didn’t just look like me —she looked just like me.
Of course, memory shared that we’d discovered someone else wearing the exact same outfit during Operation Fugly—the robot who’d been with Ronald Yates, presumably to be put into action to kill my mother once I was dead. And my mother was here, and that meant that I had a really good guess for who the Kitty-Bot was aiming for. My mother was dead in Bizarro World, and I’d thought she was going to die here during Operation Epidemic. Mom was not getting killed on my watch, especially not due to something made to look like me.
Despite all that had happened, I’d kind of forgotten about my personal robot or android or whatever she actually was, probably because I’d only seen “me” in a picture and the robot had never been seen again.
But there “I” was right now, striding along, making a beeline for the Rose Garden.
“You seeing what I’m seeing?” I asked Mom as I rummaged around in my purse.
“I am. You know, I’d forgotten about this, don’t ask me why.”
“Was just berating myself for the same forgetfulness, Mom.”
“It’s a good copy. That suit’s as bedraggled as I always remember it being when you wore it.”
“You’re hilarious, Mom. Serene?” Found my iPod. In this situation I didn’t want to risk my phone. Plugged in my earbuds.
“Yes, Kitty?”
“Go get Chuckie, as fast as possible, and ensure that no one allows Jeff or anyone else politically important out of the White House. Whatever that Kitty-Bot has in mind, I can guarantee it isn’t good, and Chuckie’s the only one who knows how to deactivate these things before they go boom.” Of course, I knew how to deactivate them in a different way.
“Ah, what are you going to be doing, Kitty?” Serene asked, though, to her credit, I could see she was poised to run.
Because I was enhanced from the mother-and-child feedback that had happened when Jamie was born—since Jeff had been altered by the Surcenthumain, aka the Superpowers Drug, that our enemies had snuck into him, Jamie had been altered, too—I was kind of an A-C now. No double hearts, but all the other bells and whistles.
So I definitely had the hyperspeed and the super strength. I knew what the Kitty-Bot had been programmed to do before, and I doubted anyone had altered her programming all that much now.
Clipped my iPod to the waist of my skirt, put in my ear buds, dropped my purse, selected my I Still Got It playlist, and hit play. I was in my FLOTUS colors, meaning an iced blue suit, cream blouse, and sensible cream pumps. Kicked off my sensible pumps. The FLOTUS clothes would just have to adapt or die.
“I’m going to be kicking android or robot, depending, butt.” Then I took off, straight for the android version of me, with Rachel Platten’s “Fight Song” in my ears.
CHAPTER 11
THE KITTY-BOT SAW ME coming, stopped striding with purpose, then started running right for me. In her pumps. So she wasn’t really programmed to be me, which was something of a relief.
Figured the Secret Service would be planning to get involved, which meant I needed to get the Kitty-Bot away from the Rose Garden and back into the middle of the South Lawn, so when she exploded the blast wouldn’t hurt anyone.
We were running at each other like we were jousting, only without horses and lances. So, okay, maybe not just like jousting, but along similar lines. Didn’t have a lot of time to do math, but either she wasn’t trying as hard or I was faster, because I’d judged where we should have met and we were farther from the Rose Garden than I’d figured we’d be. One for the win column.
I’d fought androids during Operations Assassination and Destruction, and I remembered how hard they could hit. But much of their abilities depended upon which android model they were. And, based on time alone, the Kitty-Bot was, hopefully, an older, less advanced model.
Of course I didn’t want to just slam into the Kitty-Bot. When I was close enough I launched myself into a tackle. Got her around the waist and we flew backward, for her, forward for me. Realized why football players preferred to do this kind of work in padding, but forged on and did my best to channel rugby players and mixed martial arts fighters.
We went down with me on top. She didn’t tuck her head, but said head hitting the ground didn’t even make her blink. She didn’t feel as hard as either Bryce Taylor or Leslie Manning had. She didn’t feel like Sandra the Android, either. I hadn’t fought with either John Butler or Cameron Maurer—though Maurer had held me up in the air with one hand when he was choking me—so I couldn’t compare her to them. But, in my limited experience, she didn’t hurt to hit nearly as badly as the other androids had.
She smelled of pine, which was a really weird perfume to go with, but who was I to question android perfume choices? Perhaps she’d gotten the special scented oils at her last tune-up.
“What are you doing?” the Kitty-Bot shouted as she hit at me. She sounded like me. How extra-special. She hit hard, but not as hard as I was used to. We rolled around, though I was able to ensure that we rolled away from the Rose Garden. Was also fairly sure that my skirt had ripped.
“Stopping you from whatever you’re planning.” Roll, hit, roll, hit. Heart’s “Kick It Out” came on my airwaves. At least my iPod and earbuds were hanging tough. Did my best to kick while we rolled, but I miscalculated and the Kitty-Bot rolled so she was on top of me and got me pinned.
She started to hit me, but I’d been in this situation before and didn’t even need Tito to shout instructions. Got my arms up over my head so she was only hitting my forearms. Hit her hard with a knee to her back and she went forward. Used my pelvis to throw her off, shoved hard at her with my hands while she was moving, then leaped up from the ground to my feet, just like they did in the movies: from my back, no hands. Really and truly hoped someone, anyone, was witness to this—the skills were working exceptionally well, and that usually meant no one I wanted to i
mpress was around to see them. The fact that I heard my suit jacket rip was irrelevant to the coolness of the move.
Got out of my wrecked jacket, then grabbed her with the intent to try to rip one of her arms off. Didn’t work, mostly because she pulled out of my hold.
“Get your hands off me. I have a message for the President.”
“You can share it with me. I’ll make sure he gets it.” Slammed a front ball kick into her midsection. My skirt definitely ripped on that one.
She staggered back a couple steps. She might not have been as hard as the other androids, but she was still more painful to hit than any human or alien, and I had hit a lot of those over the past years.
Went for the tackle again. She wasn’t really ready to block it, meaning I was able to grab her. But this time I wasn’t able to bring her to the ground, so we were grappling while standing up and sort of flinging each other around without letting go.
She threw me off of her. I didn’t go sailing, like I had with other androids. So either the Kitty-Bot wasn’t trying all that hard, or I was right—she was an older model. For all I knew, she wasn’t really an android, just a robot, though I’d look to Chuckie and Serene for the distinction, if there even was one.
Landed in a crouch that would have made every kung fu instructor I’d ever had glow with pride and claim to be the one who’d taught me to do it. The Kitty-Bot, meanwhile, spun and headed back toward the Rose Garden. Interesting. The mission appeared to be all for her. Of course, Mom, my Secret Service detail, Serene, Chuckie, Reader, Tim, and Tito were all here, between her and the Rose Garden, so maybe she was just going to try to blow up the maximum number of participants.
Launched myself at her and caught her from behind this time. We went to the ground again. This time, though, I wasn’t going to allow her to get into a better position. Grabbed her head and put it into a lock.
Before I could decide if I was willing to pull her head off or not, Chuckie ran up with a pen. I’d have made a smartass comment but we’d learned that pens fit into the android ears and were able to hit the off switch.
