Alien Research

by Gini Koch

  Naomi seemed to ignore what they were saying and, instead, advanced on me, eyes flashing. “You called for Fuzzball, I know you did. You’re the only one the Poofs listen to. If you’d stayed the hell out of it—”

  “You’d all be dead,” White said calmly. “And Naomi, as our Supreme Pontifex said, that’s enough.”

  “No, it’s not. Michael’s dead and for what? So we can do whatever Kitty says again? And get more of our people killed?”

  I knew she was grieving, but Naomi was reminding me a lot of when she’d been a total Bridezilla. It wasn’t a good personality style for her. And it was a complete 180-degree change from this morning and how she normally was.

  “Mimi, calm down,” Chuckie said soothingly. Amy and I both winced in anticipation.

  Sure enough, Naomi spun around and turned on him. “You always take her side! You think she never makes mistakes! You act like she walks on water! I’m sick of it! I’m sick of all of this. My brother’s dead and all you’re all doing is lounging around chatting.”

  She was getting hysterical. And, while grief and stress did terrible things to people, Naomi wasn’t normally a raging bitch. Brian had been blindfolded, and that meant the others probably had, too. The men had been stripped to the waist but all the women had had their shirtsleeves torn off. Why?

  I knew in my gut that Michael wasn’t supposed to have been killed—he was one of the few adult hybrids out there, he was more valuable to the bad guys alive. But none of the hostages had really had time to compare notes.

  Naomi was still freaking out and most of the others didn’t seem to know what to do. Tito and Nurse Carter were speaking quietly to Melanie and Emily, so I knew they were coming up with a medical response. However, I wanted this stopped now, and I knew how, and I knew Amy did as well. She and I exchanged a look and she nodded. Fine, she had my back on this one if necessary.

  Rahmi and Rhee had noted my little exchange with Amy, and they both nodded to me. Good, if necessary, I’d have Amazonian backup, too. Hoped it wouldn’t be necessary.

  Went to Naomi, who was now screaming at Gower, White, and Abigail about how they never supported her or loved Michael. This was officially too much, and I stopped worrying about her or anyone else’s reaction to what I was going to do. I spun her toward me, and slapped her as hard as I could.

  She stared at me. “What the hell?”

  I grabbed her arms and yanked them toward me. Sure enough, there was a needle mark and a forming bruise. “You were injected with something during capture, weren’t you?”

  “Yes!” She was back to screaming. “We were attacked and—”

  Slapped her again. “I don’t know if they gave it to everyone else or just you. But you were the one screaming before, and you’re really off the charts right now. You’re not acting at all normally. And since you’re not planning a wedding, and only a couple of hours ago you were totally normal, I’m going to just spitball this one and say that you’ve been given Surcenthumain.”

  Naomi’s eyes were still flashing. She reminded me of how Jeff had looked when he’d been given the huge dose of Surcenthumain during Operation Drug Addict. And yet, she didn’t feel any stronger than an average A-C. I could keep hold of her wrists without really trying.

  “Kitty, Melanie, and I weren’t injected with anything,” Emily said.

  “I wasn’t injected, either,” Brian confirmed.

  “Or me,” Abigail said, showing her arms.

  “Why pick Mimi?” Chuckie asked.

  “Because she’s your wife and whoever’s in charge of all this really hates you.”

  “Remember that comment,” Tim said. “I guarantee Kitty’s right.”

  Tito and Nurse Carter came over. “We’re going to give you adrenaline,” Tito told Naomi. “It counters the drug.”

  “I don’t want it,” Naomi said. “I just want my brother back.” She started crying. “I just want my brother back.”

  “Do it, please,” Chuckie said. “Mimi, let’s go get you feeling better.” He put his arm around her and she leaned against him.

  “Take her into the guest bedroom,” Jeff suggested, as Melanie and Emily came to help and relieve me from holding onto Naomi. Chuckie kept a hold of her, but Melanie and Emily each held one of Naomi’s arms.

  Gladys was examining herself. “I could have been injected. You don’t really . . . remember correctly when you’re under mind control.”

  “Come with us and we’ll examine you to be sure,” Nurse Carter said. Gladys joined the group heading to our guest bedroom, which, seeing as it was in the Embassy, was the size of a small apartment. So they’d have plenty of room. One tiny one for the win column. Decided to take it.

  “Well,” Reader said when the door closed, “that was fun. We need to catch everyone up on all we know, but it should probably wait until Reynolds is back with us.”

  “Kitty, Naomi didn’t mean it, not really,” Abigail said, as she came over and gave me a hug. “We know it wasn’t your fault.”

  Hugged her back. “Thanks. But it still feels like my fault.”

  “It does to everyone. I’m not sure if my talents are coming back, or if the grief and guilt is so strong from everyone that I can feel it without talent, but everyone feels the same as you do. And none of us are to blame.”

  “She’s right,” Jeff said, as Abigail and I broke apart.

  Chuckie came out of the guest room. “Doctor Hernandez is giving her something so she can sleep.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s got a drug cocktail inside her right now.”

  “She’ll be okay,” Jeff said reassuringly.

  “Right now, it doesn’t feel like anyone’s ever going to be okay ever again,” Chuckie said morosely.

  Took a deep breath. I was going to lose it and I knew it. “I’ll be right back.” Squeezed Jeff’s hand as he gave me a worried look. “Just need to piddle. You guys catch everyone else up while I go.”

  Went to our bedroom, closed the door, went into the closet, and closed that door. Like everything else in our apartment, the closet was huge, so there was plenty of room. Sat down near the hamper.

  “I miss ACE. You know what I want, Operations Team of One? Elf of the Elves? I want ACE back. Let’s have Michael and Fuzzball back, too. Can you do that, or are you really only good for delivering Cokes and clean clothes?”

  The hamper was silent, as hampers usually are. I hit it, simply because I wanted to hit something.

  “Hey, Mister I’m Immortal, I’m talking to you. Why did you let them kill Michael and Fuzzball? Is that how you get your jollies?”

  I didn’t expect an answer, so I was kind of shocked when Algar appeared, sitting right on top of the hamper.

  CHAPTER 48

  GAPED FOR A MOMENT, then found my voice. “I knew that was your portal.”

  He shrugged. “I have a lot of portals. As you wisely surmised. You’re angry, I get it.”

  “Do you? You know ACE wouldn’t have let Michael die, and probably not Fuzzball, either.”

  Algar nodded. “You’re correct. But people, many people, and animals, die every day,” he said gently. “Some are, like your friend, murdered. Some die from disease, old age, accidents, violence of one kind or another. It’s part of the circle of life.”

  “Thanks for that, Mufasa.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Let me explain, again, the differences between me and what you call ACE. ACE sees all the death and knows it can’t do anything to stop it, but it wants to stop it. I see all the death and know that while I could stop it, free will demands that I don’t.”

  Let that sink in. “You’ve been here a lot more than just the last few decades, haven’t you? I don’t mean living here on Earth, but you dropped by to visit, check the place out, kick the tires. Or else you’d never have either sent Ronald Yates here or come here yourself.”

  “True enough.”

  “So, are you the one Martin Luther threw the ink bottle at?”

  Algar smiled. “Tha
t’s for me to know and you to find out. Just realize that everyone and everything dies. Planets, solar systems, galaxies, even. Gods can die. Immortals can be destroyed. Death is part of life—death is a vital part of life. Without death, there’s no room for new life. Without new life, there’s no hope for new ideas, new discoveries, new wisdom.”

  “That’s awesome in the abstract, but it really sucks in reality.”

  “Yes, it does.” He sighed. “The thing about free will is that it’s pretty much an all or nothing thing. Either you have free will, or you don’t. If you don’t, if all is preordained, what’s the point of existence?”

  “Are all Black Hole People philosophers, or are they all just jerks like you?”

  He chuckled. “Immortality sounds great until you have it. Immortality practically demands a philosophical outlook, at least over time. And it takes a long time to redeem a single mistake, and many bad things can and will happen in the course of that redemption.”

  “Christopher says we’re back to square one, or worse.”

  “Perhaps. Of course, he’s got his own problems that are shading his outlook. Just like everyone.”

  “It’s my fault Fuzzball and Michael are dead.”

  Algar’s eyes flashed. “Have you listened to a word I’ve said? Free will means they make their choices and they live, or die, with the consequences of them. Did you influence their deaths? Maybe. But the Poof made the choice to do what you asked, and it could have made the choice not to—there have been plenty of times when the Poofs have ignored your direct orders. Michael was trying to break free anyway. Because that’s what hero-types always do, and he fit that mold.”

  “He wanted to break free to save everyone.”

  “Which proves the adage: Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it.”

  “Are you saying he shouldn’t have fought back?”

  “I’m saying that he made a choice, because he had free will. If that choice had gone the other way, if he and the Poof had won, you wouldn’t be sitting here berating me for allowing the Poof to eat your enemies or Michael to have beaten them to death. You’d be doing the happy dance.”

  “Well, yeah.”

  “You think the people you consider bad guys don’t pray to their gods like you do? You think they don’t consider this small victory proof that they’re in the right?”

  “I know, I know, this is the oldest argument about why wars happen and never stop. Why people we consider terrorists are considered freedom fighters or heroes by others.”

  “Exactly. Yes, they’re doing bad things, but they’re following a plan that outlines why, if they do all these bad things, the future will be better. Better for them, to be sure, but still, better.” Algar hopped down off the hamper. “You need to pull yourself together. Listen to some tunes, have sex with your husband.”

  “I don’t feel like listening to anything and I doubt anyone feels like doing the deed right now.”

  “On the contrary. One of the best things about the life forms in this part of the galaxy is that you all still have the primal urge of reproduction going strong—every species in this part of the galaxy is focused, at their cores, on proliferation of their species. Death creates the desire for life. And there’s only one natural way to bring life about.”

  “You just want to turn on your Embassy Porn Channel.”

  He laughed. “One day, maybe I’ll explain to you why that’s hilarious, on so many different levels.” He patted my shoulder. “But not today.”

  “Before you disappear, I have to ask—did you hang out with Alpha Four’s king, or Richard, or Paul, as much as you’re now hanging out with me?”

  “The first king of Alpha Four, yes. You’re a lot like him. One smart, inquisitive, brave, non-linear-thinking, cute little ape.”

  “Did you call him a cute little ape, too?”

  He grinned. “Nope. You’re just lucky that way.” Then he snapped his fingers and disappeared.

  “I know you’re just doing that finger snap to be funny,” I said to no one. My iPod was still clipped to my jeans. I put my headphones in and hit play. “Sympathy for the Devil” by the Rolling Stones came on.

  Started to laugh, then cried, bawled, and, as Jeff came in to get me, laughed again.

  “You okay, baby?” he asked me softly, as he picked me up off the floor.

  “As okay as everyone else.”

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “Maybe later. We have a war room meeting to get back to.”

  “No, we don’t. We’re bringing spouses and families here, we have enough room between the Embassy and the Zoo.”

  “Everyone’s going to be part of the discussion of next steps?”

  “No,” Jeff said firmly. “Everyone’s going to go to bed and rest. We need to regroup, and we all need to calm down. The grief isn’t going to go away quickly, but everyone just going into their own little family groups in a semblance of safety is a start.”

  “Where’re Chuckie and Naomi?”

  “In the guest room we permanently assigned to Reynolds before they got married. So they can be alone and we can be alone. I’m going to get Jamie, and we’re all going to just relax and try to get some sleep.”

  “It’s not really bedtime.”

  Jeff kissed my forehead. “I’m saying that today bedtime is right now. By Congressional Decree.”

  Buried my face in his neck. “Whatever you say.”

  “I love it when you listen to reason.” He chuckled. “Yes.”

  “Yes what?”

  “Yes, most everyone probably does want to have sex. Not at this exact moment, but sooner than anyone would admit to out loud.”

  “You reading my mind?”

  “Yeah. And, especially right now, I appreciate your focus on the priorities.”

  CHAPTER 49

  JEFF GOT JAMIE FROM DAYCARE while I requested dinner from the King of the Elves. Had to give this to Algar—he made great food. Had no idea how he snapped it into existence, and decided not to care.

  We had a quiet dinner, spent some time snuggling with Jamie and all the pets, the Poofs in particular, then followed our nightly family routine to the letter. Read stories to Jamie, then her bath time, tucked her in, sang songs. Jeff moved all the Poof Condos into the nursery.

  Jamie wasn’t in a crib any more. While I’d felt a twin bed was just fine, Jeff hadn’t, and Jamie was in a queen. This left plenty of room for the pets, most of whom slept with Jamie these days. Jamie truly insisted that the animals be with her 24/7 as much as possible, and they all seemed good with the arrangement.

  In addition to her Poof, Mous-Mous, a variety of other, unattached Poofs, were cuddled next to her. All the Poofs mewed at me, and Harlie and Poofikins both jumped onto my shoulders, purring, and gave me love-rubs, before settling into bed with Jamie as well. So at least they didn’t hate me for calling for Fuzzball. One for the win column.

  The cats rubbed up against me and Jeff, then went with the Poofs and settled themselves on the bed with Jamie. The dogs normally slept in their doggy beds in our room, but all four of them walked into the nursery, gave us both snuffles, got pets, then sat down and looked at Jeff expectantly. He moved their beds in there, too, and the dogs happily settled in for the night.

  This left Bruno and Lola, our Peregrine pair. Lola squawked gently at us and settled herself at the foot of Jamie’s bed. Bruno surveyed the scene, squawked a command to his troops, then trotted out.

  The animals all seemed quieter and a little huddled, which was to be expected. They’d lost one of their own, too. Wanted to apologize but really didn’t know how.

  Jamie gave me an extra hug. “It’ll be okay, Mommy.”

  Didn’t really know what to say to this, so I hugged her back and kissed her head. “Yes, it will. Mommy and Daddy will make sure of it.” Hoped that covered any little girl worries the day and my guilty worrying had created, but wasn’t willing to bet the farm on it. However, did my best to focus o
n how much I loved Jamie and the rest of our family, whether on four legs or two, and hoped it would do the trick.

  Once we were out and Jamie’s door was closed tightly, Bruno squawked at me. After some head bobs, intricate clawing motions, wing flaps, and more squawks, he waited for his scritchy-scratch, which I gave him right between his wings where the Peregrines liked it best, and he trotted off.

  “What did he and the other animals have to say?” Jeff asked, managing not to sound freaked out, which was awesome personal growth on his part.

  “Um, whatever’s going on, they agree that Jamie is the focus. All the animals are sleeping with one eye open.”

  “All?”

  “All. Bruno’s going to be on patrol in our apartment, and Walter’s Peregrines are sleeping with Brian, Serene, and Patrick, along with a variety of extra Poofs, because they agree that Patrick is a target as well.”

  “Is that all they said?” Jeff asked gently.

  Heaved a sigh. “No. They insist that Fuzzball and Michael being murdered wasn’t my fault.”

  Jeff hugged me. “They’re right. Let’s get into bed and try to get some sleep. We all need it.”

  “How are you doing? I’ve been worried about you all day.”

  He nuzzled my hair. “I’m fine. Just need some sleep like everyone else.”

  Didn’t believe him but decided not to argue. If Tito hadn’t demanded Jeff go into isolation, then maybe all Jeff really did need was sleep. “Are your blocks up?” I asked as we got undressed and into our standard A-C issue nightclothes, consisting of white T-shirts and blue pajama bottoms.

  “Yes. They need to be.”

  “I know this is the worst for the empaths, isn’t it? You especially.”

  “In a way. However, it’s never as bad for us as it is for those closest to the deceased.”

  “In this case, that means it’s just as bad for you, or worse.”

  “Not worse. I’m not happy, and I’ll be the first to admit that part of me still doesn’t believe what happened is real. But, baby, you need to remember—every Field agent is trained to expect death. Of people they know, their partner, even themselves. Michael was an astronaut—he was trained to expect things to go wrong, too.”