by Gini Koch
“I’m sure he did. Charles is very fond of all of your sorority sisters.”
True. Unlike in high school, most of my college friends had liked him a lot, my sorority sisters in particular. We all did a lot better in school because Chuckie was very willing to tutor anyone at the sorority who needed it, and he was always willing to be available for whoever needed an escort. “Yeah, that was one worry of his that was needless.”
Mom shrugged. “Your college friends were more . . . perceptive than your high school ones.”
“I suppose. Amy and Sheila never needed tutoring, of course.”
“Your sorority sisters liked Charles for more reasons than that.”
“True enough. Caroline says Chuckie’s looking good.”
“Good to hear. How was the rest of your day?” It was a legitimate question and Mom sounded casual, but I figured she was asking for a reason.
“Fine.” Of course, Mom also had that scary-high security clearance and, unlike Chuckie, she knew aliens were on the planet and what they did with their time. “Coincidentally, we had a cluster of forming superbeings. In Paraguay of all places.”
Mom jerked and looked up from the potatoes she was mashing. “Paraguay?”
“Yeah. Jeff called in military support from Argentina and Brazil, and the Argentineans blew up the superbeings. But apparently the C.I.A. was on the scene and wanted the superbeings intact.”
Mom’s eyes narrowed. “Any idea why?”
I snorted. “To use as supersoldiers would be my guess.” “Is that why Jeff’s in Langley? To verify?”
“Per what little I got, the head C.I.A. guy over Centaurion said he wasn’t involved and wanted a briefing.”
Mom looked relieved for a moment, then turned back to the potatoes.
“Caroline also said she might be going to Paraguay.”
Mom was prepared, so she didn’t react as much, though the potatoes got a slightly more vicious mashing. “Interesting.”
Before I could ask her why she cared about this—Paraguay, Caroline possibly going there, and that the head C.I.A. guy over Centaurion was at least pretending not to be involved—Dad and the dogs came in, and I was buried under the tide of canines for a while.
Dogs appeased, I got a hug and kiss from Dad. “You getting enough to eat? Exercise?”
“Yes, Dad. Plenty of both.”
“Sol, I forgot to get the Martinelli’s. Would you get a few bottles?” A-Cs weren’t allowed alcohol, supposedly for religious reasons. We’d discovered, however, that the real reason was that they were deadly allergic to the stuff. I hadn’t had an alcoholic drink for months. This was a celebration, so since champagne was out, we were making do with what the kiddies drink on New Year’s Eve.
“Sure.” Dad gave Mom a kiss and a knowing look and headed for the garage.
I considered this. Mom wasn’t given to forgetting anything, let alone that she’d need some nonalcoholic bubbly for tonight. I gave her a long look. “What will I find if I open the pantry or the fridge?”
Mom grinned. “You’re getting good at this. Yes, I wanted to speak with you when your father wasn’t here. And when Jeff wasn’t here. Your father and I are going to Washington tomorrow, and this opportunity appeared sooner than I thought it would, so why pass it up?”
“So, what’s the big deal that requires girls only-ness?”
Mom shrugged. “You and Jeff are getting closer.” I nodded. This wasn’t exactly news. “I just want you to be sure that you’ve . . . considered all your options.”
“Mom, for God’s sake, Christopher and I would not work out on any kind of long-term basis.”
“I don’t mean just Christopher.” Mom gave me a look I was familiar with—her “you’re so dense” look.
“Then who? I don’t recall a lot of other options I’ve been excited about for anything long term.”
Mom sighed. “Are you going to your high school reunion?”
“Did the reunion committee send a desperate plea I missed? Chuckie asked me that today, too. And Jeff’s been whining about going. And, no, even with all that, I’m still not planning on it.”
“I think you should go.”
I stared at her, trying to see if she was making a joke. She sure looked serious. “Um, why, exactly? I don’t think Amy or Sheila are planning to go, and Chuckie said he’d only consider it if I was going. High school was fine, but I don’t feel some strong urge to reminisce with people I don’t see or speak to at all anymore.”
“You might enjoy it.”
“Or I might not.” I considered all the potential reasons she was suggesting this. “You want me to show Jeff off or something?” That had real possibilities. There was no way in the world anyone else had landed someone that gorgeous, unless they were dating a male model or an A-C.
“Or something.” Mom sighed again. “What else did you and Charles talk about?”
“How do you know we talked?”
Her eyes rolled. “You told me he’d said he’d go to the reunion if you would.” She shook her head. “He’d do anything you wanted, you know that, right?”
“Yeah.” My turn to sigh. “He sounded worried but okay.”
“Have you seen him recently?”
“No.”
Mom glared. “So, you’ve abandoned the man who’s always been there for you?”
Where was this coming from? “No. Mom, Chuckie’s still one of my two best guy friends. It’s just . . . I can’t tell him about my life now. And he knows when I lie. I just . . . I don’t want to lie to his face, okay?”
Mom’s expression softened. “I understand. But maybe you should see him anyway. The reunion would be neutral ground.”
“Neutral ground? You mean we’d be joined together against the forces trying to kill us, at least if it’s anything like high school was. We haven’t had a fight or anything, it’s not like we need to kiss and make up.”
I got another shot of the “dense” look. “Kitten, I just want you to be sure you’ve considered all your options.”
“Mom, I’m in a serious relationship with, last time I checked, a guy you and Dad both like. What’s wrong with Jeff that you don’t want me with him suddenly?”
“Nothing’s wrong with Jeff.”
I considered this. “But . . . ?”
“But . . . what does his family think of you?”
Ah. This suddenly made sense. My turn to sigh. “No idea. He won’t let me meet them. And, it doesn’t matter, right? Because there’s no interspecies mating allowed. That’s what this is about, right?”
“For the most part, yes. Mixing families is hard enough when both sides are enthusiastic about it. When they’re not ... ”
“Yeah. Well, I’ve been trying to meet them. I’ll keep on trying.”
“Keep on thinking about your options, too,” Mom said seriously. “Your father and I both love Jeff, but we want you happy, and disapproving in-laws aren’t a recipe for happiness.”
“I will, but Jeff can pick it up.” And he didn’t like me considering other men as romantic options almost as much as he didn’t like that I still talked to Chuckie regularly and hadn’t changed his ringtone. Martini’s jealousy was almost as impressive as his bedroom skills.
“A little competition now and then is good for him, I’m sure.”
“As soon as I identify this supposed competition, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
Mom sighed. “You are so dense sometimes.”
“It’s a gift.”
CHAPTER 7
MARTINI ARRIVED JUST AS THE roast was coming out of the oven. He looked pissed. “I hate dealing with the C.I.A.,” he said by way of hello. “Any way we can get rid of them?”
“Not that anyone’s ever discovered,” Mom said dryly as the cats all started purring and sashayed over to Martini for petting. He had one cat on either shoulder and one in his arms in a matter of moments.
The dogs heard Martini’s voice and shrieked their demands to see him. Our dogs lo
ved us, but they adored Martini. The dogs’ and cats’ love of Martini carried great weight with my parents for some reason. Funny, but true—they took the animals’ opinions as more important than mine.
As the cats leaped for safety, Dotty, our Dalmatian, reached him first, but Duke, the black lab, and Duchess, our pit bull, were right there, too. Our Great Dane, Dudley, actually took his time, but that was so he could monopolize Martini by putting his paws up onto his shoulders and giving him a face wash.
Standard animal greetings over, Martini went to clean up, and we got dinner on the table. Routine chitchat ensued, until the subject of my high school reunion somehow surfaced. My parents and Martini all tried to convince me attending was a great idea. To avoid running screaming into the street, I strove for distraction.
“So, why are you guys going to Washington tomorrow?”
Mom sighed. “We have some politicians making problems.”
“What kind of problems?”
“High-level security problems,” Mom said pointedly.
“High-Level Security Girl, here. Spill it.”
Mom glared at me. “No.”
I looked at Dad. He looked uncomfortable. “Oh. It’s about Centaurion.”
Martini’s eyes narrowed. “What now?”
Mom sighed again. “Not about Centaurion all that much. Though the incident in Paraguay is worrisome for a variety of reasons. We have various pressures coming at us from a variety of sources. Several House and Senate subcommittees are dealing with issues that either directly or indirectly affect Centaurion Division.”
“Wow, that was a lot of confuse-speak.”
Now I got the mother-glare. “What part of ‘I’m not telling you’ isn’t coming through?”
“All of it. What part of ‘tell me anyway’ aren’t you catching?”
She rolled her eyes. “Why me?”
“Like mother, like daughter,” Martini offered. “I’m interested, too, of course.”
Mom snorted. “And as you’re the head of all A-C military operations, which means the head of the A-C government, I’m not at liberty to tell you, Jeff.”
He shook his head. “Richard is the leader of our people.”
“Religious leader, yes,” Mom agreed. “However, when it comes down to it, who gives the orders to shoot or cease fire, who gives the orders to fight or not, who gives the orders for what scientific research is done or ignored? You do.”
Martini shrugged. “Christopher does some, too. So does my father, honestly. And Richard does as well.”
I coughed. “And yet, when it all comes down to it, the person whom those three people have to obey is . . . you.”
He looked embarrassed. “I suppose.”
Dad cleared his throat. “It’s not quite that simple.” We all looked at him, and he shrugged. “It’s not. I’ve actually studied the Centaurion agreements with the United States government. The ranks are set up, yes, but there’s a check and a balance.”
“Jeff and Christopher are the check and Richard’s the balance?”
Dad smiled at me. “Pretty much, yes. Scientific research, though, is more of a general bailiwick. However,” he added to my mother’s glare, “if Jeff were to say that a project should or shouldn’t be done, then it would or wouldn’t happen.”
Martini nodded. “Same with Richard, though. And there are some things Christopher and I have no influence over.” He looked embarrassed and upset suddenly and took a fast interest in his food.
It didn’t require genius to come up with why. “In all social and religious situations, what the Pontifex says goes, right?”
Martini sighed. “Yes. And he’s got more than just what he wants to do to consider.”
This also wasn’t new news. “I know. The older A-C generation isn’t into that whole ‘intermix with humans’ idea.”
“Some of the younger ones aren’t either,” Dad said quietly.
“Since when?” All the younger A-Cs I knew certainly were, or weren’t against it.
“I meet different A-Cs than you do, kitten. And some of them are, oh, call it more orthodox than the others. Not the majority, mind you. Most are hoping things will change and they’ll be allowed to marry humans. Some would be okay with it if said humans converted to the A-C religion. But just like not all the older A-Cs are against interbreeding, not all the younger ones are for it.”
Well, this topic had somehow gotten more unpleasant than the high school reunion one. I tried for another idea change—either it’d help or I’d achieve the hat trick in terms of bad dinner conversation. “So, Mom, which politicians are you seeing?”
“The President and his closer advisers,” she said quickly. I got the impression she was all for us getting onto a mutual enemy kind of discussion. “Then some of the more influential senators and representatives.” She made a face. “And, of course, some of the more repugnant ones.”
“Like who?” I was all over the gossip. I never met these people, so it was like listening to E! D.C. Edition. “Any dirty affairs going on?”
Mom started laughing and almost spit her apple cider out. Martini and Dad were having a good chuckle, too. “Kitty, that’s what Washington is, dirty affairs of one kind or another.”
“Just making a joke,” I muttered. Well, at least everyone else was laughing. “Just thought it’d be interesting to hear about what the politicians you’re dealing with are like. I mean, I know you like the President, but I figured there could be bits of info you could share.” Like who was zooming who, but I let that one stay unasked.
“Pray you never run into the ones I’m dealing with right now,” Mom said.
“Like Reid,” Dad agreed. Mom shot him a look and he clamped his mouth shut.
“Which subcommittees?” Martini asked before I could ask who Reid was and why we wanted to avoid him or her. I got the feeling Martini was trying to avert a domestic dispute, and, realistically, if anyone would know when people were upset, he’d be the one. I let my curiosity pass.
“House South American Policy, Joint National Security, and House Immigration.”
Oh, sure, I ask, I get jokes. Martini asks, and she tells him everything. “Why would any of those be something you couldn’t discuss with us?” Okay, I let my curiosity about this Reid person, like what the full name was, pass.
Everyone gave me the “duh” look. I gave it more thought and reminded myself that Chuckie had spent years teaching me how to be suspicious of anyone and anything. “We just had superbeing action in Paraguay, that’ll be nasty no matter who knows what. Security and superbeings go hand-in-hand.” I looked at Martini. “And I guess we do have a large immigrant population that’d fit right in with the rest of America’s melting pot.”
Mom nodded. “Yes. It’s nice to see some of the money we spent on your education wasn’t wasted on keggers, comics, CDs, and football games only.”
“Don’t forget sorority fees. Speaking of which, will Caroline be okay?”
“Yes, and that’s all we’re discussing. At least right now.” A look of worry flashed across her face, but then she smiled. “Chocolate cake for dessert.” She got up and went into the kitchen.
I started to get up, but Dad cleared his throat softly. “Let it be, kitten. Trust me.”
Martini nodded. “I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough.”
I stared at him. He looked a little too casual and didn’t seem upset in the least. “In other words, you’re confident you already know, and one day maybe I’ll get to find out.”
Martini grinned. “I love smart women.”
CHAPTER 8
THE REST OF THE EVENING was uneventful. We left shortly after dessert, since my parents had to pack for their mysterious trip everyone knew the details of other than me. I drove us back to Caliente Base while Martini lounged in the passenger seat and refused to tell me anything. I was fairly sure he liked me losing my mind. He had to move the seat back as far as it would go, but he claimed to love my car anyway. Which was a good thing,
since I wasn’t giving it up. Ever.
The gate transfer back to the Science Center was better because I could look at Martini until my stomach forced me to close my eyes, and he held my hand so I could squeeze his as hard as I needed to.
No amount of whining, begging, or cajoling worked, so after several hours of mind-blowing sex, we finally went to sleep. A-Cs had incredibly fast healing and regenerative powers, which fact Martini reminded me of on a happily regular basis.
My first day as a licensed or close-enough-for-A-C-work pilot was dull. Nothing much was going on at all, on a worldwide basis. A couple of superbeings, but they manifested in rural parts of California and France and were dealt with quickly, no Head of Anything required.
I wasn’t used to Alpha Team having absolutely nothing to do. It made me feel jumpy.
“Baby, relax,” Martini said for the tenth time as we and the rest of Alpha Team wandered around the Control Center at Home Base, just because we’d already toured all of the “action” parts of the Science Center where no action was happening. “We’re allowed quiet days.” He looked and sounded as relaxed as if we were on vacation.
This made me more tense. The rest of the team was wandering away from us, presumably because my tension was ruining their Zen or something. “Calm before the storm. We need to be ready.”
He sighed. “No reason to. We get ready in seconds. We don’t need to be on edge.” He stopped walking and moved me so I was in front of him. Then he started to massage my shoulders. “You’re unbelievably worried. Why?”
I was about to answer when Freddie Mercury started singing. I dug through my purse while Martini growled. I chose cowardice as the better part of valor and moved away. Martini’s expression said he’d lost that relaxed feeling and was indeed instantly ready—to pound Chuckie into pulp. I decided they really didn’t need to meet any time soon.
“Hi,” I said as quietly as I could without sounding like I was trying to talk softly. “What’s up?”
