Alien Tange (2)

by Gini Koch

  “Are you okay?” Chuckie sounded worried and freaked.

  “Yes, why?”

  “There’s some . . . weird stuff on the news.” He sounded vague, like he wanted to tell me something but couldn’t.

  “There’s always weird stuff on the news.” There was. And Chuckie had made weird stuff his hobby since before I’d ever met him. “Is there something weirder than normal on the news?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you tell me what it is, or are we playing a game and I just don’t know it?”

  He made an exasperated sound. “Just be careful, okay?” “I’m always careful.”

  Chuckie snorted so loudly I figured Martini could hear him. “You’re never careful that I’ve ever seen.”

  I couldn’t argue this—he did know me very well. “Fine. I’ll be careful. What, exactly, should I be careful of?”

  “Everything and everyone.”

  “Oh. Business as usual.”

  “It should be, yeah.”

  “You worry me, Chuckie.”

  “Feeling’s mutual, Kitty. I ...,” his voice softened, “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “I don’t want anything to happen to you, either.” I tried to figure out what I could tell him that would ease his concerns, even just a little. “I’m training in kung fu again.”

  “Oh, good. I feel much better.”

  “Sarcasm is an ugly trait.”

  “Yeah? As far as I know, you love it.” This, sadly, was true. He sighed. “Just watch out, and really don’t take anything, anything at all, for granted.”

  “Okay, I’ll be as suspicious of things as it’s possible for me to be.”

  “I’d prefer it if you were as suspicious of things as it’s possible for me to be.”

  “Ah, but you’re the Conspiracy King, and I your mere lowly subject.”

  He laughed. “Never lowly. Never mere, either.”

  “Well, that’s good to know.” Martini caught my eye. He was still glaring. “I need to go.”

  “Okay. Kitty, remember—if you get into something you can’t handle, call me.”

  “Will do, I promise.”

  We hung up, and I headed back to Martini. “How was your private chat with Mr. My Best Friend?” he growled.

  “Fine. You can relax about it—” I would have continued talking, but Martini jerked and spun around. As he did, I saw people starting to act like something was wrong. Some I knew to be humans were running, and many expressions were grim. “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know.” Martini sounded as he did when there were too many emotions going at once—confused and worried.

  More people were running now. Toward Martini. I knew what that meant—something very bad was going on. Reader reached us first, holding a cell phone. “Jeff, your dad just called me.”

  “Why did he call James instead of you?”

  Martini sighed. “I have my phone turned off.”

  This was unheard of in the A-C world—all phones on at all times, in case someone needed you, top dudes in particular. “Why?”

  Christopher appeared before us out of nowhere. I jumped while I reminded myself that he’d obviously used hyperspeed. “Because he’s still avoiding Aunt Lucinda,” he snapped.

  Martini shrugged. “It was a quiet day.”

  “Not any more.” Reader gave Martini a commiserating smile as he held out the phone. “Your dad said to try to ignore your mother and please call him back.”

  Martini sighed, took the phone, and dialed. “Yeah, it’s me. Uh-huh. What?” He spun around and walked a few paces away. “You’re sure? Yeah, that’s bad. Yes, we’ll be there. Yes, I mean Kitty, too, she’s the head of Airborne. Oh, really? Thanks. No, I mean it, thanks. Yeah, it’ll be nice to see you, too.” He hung up and turned back to us, all business. “We need Alpha Team assembled, now. There’s a situation in Florida.”

  Christopher and Reader both looked freaked. They took off, presumably to alert the rest of Alpha team that we were traveling. I was in the dark. “What’s going on?”

  “My father works at Cape Canaveral. They’ve got a situation there. We need to make sure we don’t have a major manifestation.”

  I looked around. Everyone was moving at hyperspeed or a run, depending on whether they were A-C or human. “How bad is this likely to be? Do my guys need to get into the air?”

  Gower came over. “We don’t need Airborne, so far, but I’ve put your boys on alert.” He shook his head. “Richard doesn’t want me to go on this one.”

  “Why not?” Martini’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?”

  “Political issue on top of everything else. Richard doesn’t want it to seem like Centaurion Division is getting involved.”

  “So why is Alpha Team going, then?” Alpha Team was a hybrid, the heads of each active division—Field, which was Martini, Image Control, which was Christopher, Airborne, so me, and Recruitment, which was Gower. Reader was also part of Alpha, the designated driver and pilot, and because of my addition to the team, Tim was on Alpha now as well. White, as the Sovereign Pontifex, went along frequently, too. To have Gower being told to stay behind was odd, to say the least.

  Gower handed me a folder. “Make sure you all read this before you get there.”

  “This is like an inch thick, Paul. I’m a fast reader, but not this fast.”

  “You’re not using a gate, you’re flying. In a regular plane.”

  “What?” Martini sounded as shocked as I felt.

  “I told you, it’s political.” Gower didn’t look happy.

  “Crap. This means I have to wear a suit, doesn’t it? And heels.”

  “You clean up nice, so let’s take care of that.” Martini took my hand and we headed toward a gate anyway.

  “Jeff, you have to leave right now.”

  Martini spun around. “No. If we have to leave now, we use a gate. I’m the damned head of the Field and you’re telling me I have to send our highest-ranking team via public air, which is like asking Tiger Woods to use a miniature golf club to win the Masters. So we’re packing for a trip, and if that means we miss taking Slower-Than-Dirt Airlines, then we’ll just use a gate and get there before it’s all over.”

  He spun back, dragging me along with him. “We’ll pack fast,” I shouted to Gower.

  We reached a gate, and Martini calibrated. I ignored it on the grounds that nausea wasn’t going to be helpful right now.

  Reader and Tim came racing up. “Thank God you’re letting us pack, Jeff,” Reader said. “What the hell’s going on?”

  “No idea, he’s your boyfriend.” Martini seemed to realize what he’d said. “Wait a minute—Paul didn’t tell you what’s going on, either?”

  Reader shook his head. “No. He’s really not happy about whatever it is, though.”

  I held up the file. “Here, you live for the light reading.”

  The gate was ready, and Martini picked me up. Him holding me was always my preferred way to travel. Normally in a rush situation we’d have gone singly, but he was angry. I didn’t mind—burying my face in Martini’s neck helped a lot with the nausea.

  He stepped us through, I buried my face, he held me tighter. It was comforting. At least something was normal.

  We landed at the Bat Cave level in the Science Center. Things were only slightly less hectic here. We raced to the elevator banks and went down, Reader and Tim to the eighth floor, which was Transient Housing, and me and Martini to the fifteenth, which was forensics, some utility, meeting space for top security, and what I called Martini’s Human Lair, which was where I also happened to live. Technically, Martini had a room on the Transient level as well as an apartment somewhere around East Base. But they were mostly for show and to let me lie to myself that we weren’t living together yet. I knew it was a lie, but it was one I still needed to hang onto for some reason.

  We trotted through the living room area into the bedroom. The bed was made, which was a perk of living at
the Science Center. Martini still hadn’t told me who or how this got done, nor other oddities, like the right sized clothing being where you needed it when you needed it, and I hadn’t been able to discover how it worked on my own.

  However, it was working again. There were two small rolling bags waiting for us on the bed. I went to the closet and Martini went to the dresser, and we started packing what we’d need. “You want me in the standard issue outfit or one of my own suits?”

  He considered this while I selected a couple of concert T-shirts to go along with a clean pair of jeans. I might have to look official but if we were staying for any length of time, I was going to have the means to be comfortable with me or die.

  “Wear that blue suit of yours, the really sexy one.”

  “Jeff, am I meeting either one of your parents on this trip?”

  “Probably my father.” He wasn’t looking at me, busying himself with his suitcase.

  “Why that suit, then?”

  Martini looked at me. “He’s male. You look even sexier in that suit than you do in our women’s standard issue, and you look damned sexy in that.”

  “I don’t want to make your father think I’m hot, I want him to like me.”

  He looked down. “I wouldn’t hold out hope for that.” His voice was low and I heard the depression again. And he’d been so relaxed only a few minutes earlier.

  Martini was normally pretty cheerful, unless we were having a spat, so all of this made my worry go supernova. He felt it, of course, and reached out and pulled me into his arms. He held me tightly, without speaking, for quite a while. I relaxed against him—it always felt good to be in his arms.

  “I’m sorry my parents just aren’t as . . . accepting as yours,” he said at last.

  “My parents have actually met you. Maybe that’s all it’ll need, Jeff. Maybe you’re worrying too much.”

  He sighed. “We’ll see.” He kissed the top of my head. “Let’s finish getting ready and get the ordeal started.”

  I left his embrace and started taking my clothes off. I was in my underwear when his arms wrapped around me from behind. He nuzzled my ear and I melted back against him. “Don’t we have to hurry?” He started to stroke my stomach, radiating out from my navel in ever-widening circles. My breathing got ragged.

  “Maybe,” he whispered in my ear, his breath hot. I moaned. He leaned my head back and to the side. “Maybe not.” Then he kissed me.

  CHAPTER 9

  WE WOULD HAVE BEEN MAKING love like bunnies if the intercom hadn’t gone off. “Commanders Martini and Katt, situation has been escalated. Please finish packing and head to Launch level immediately.”

  Martini sighed, and stopped the wonderful things he was doing to my breasts while he held me in his arms and I had my legs wrapped around his waist. “Fine, Gladys. Thanks for the hurry it up reminder.”

  “I live to serve.” The intercom went dead. I’d never met Gladys, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

  Martini set me down, and I pulled my underwear back on. “We’ll just finish that conversation later.”

  “Yeah.” He stroked the back of my neck. “I’m going into the living room—I can’t see you naked and not want to make love to you.”

  I spun around and kissed him. “Fine. I can’t see you clothed and not feel the same way.”

  He laughed. “Good to know.” He patted my bottom and then sauntered out with our suitcases. He seemed much more relaxed than when we’d first arrived in our rooms.

  I dressed quickly, brushed my hair, threw everything I could think I might need into my purse, including hairbrush and hairspray, slipped my heels on, and I was ready to go.

  Martini was sitting on the couch, reading something. I’d given the file to Reader, so it wasn’t information about our mission. I sat next to him. “I’m ready. What’s that?”

  He handed it to me. It was the latest “why haven’t you registered yet?” letter about my reunion. Why everyone wanted me to attend this event was beyond me—I’d been on the track team, in the chess club, thanks to Chuckie, and had plenty of friends while I was in high school. It had still been high school, and I hadn’t ever missed it once I was gone.

  Why Martini, of all people, wanted to go was further beyond me. I assumed my mother wanted me to compare my life to my peers, maybe Chuckie wanted to lord success over the creeps who’d made his life hellish and wanted backup for it, but Martini wanting to go was plain weird, wanting to see how the other half lived or not.

  However, I knew my parents did things for each other they wouldn’t have done for themselves—it was part of why they felt they had a great marriage. And Martini never complained about my being a comics geek-girl or a throw-back feminist in an age of celebutants and reality TV. He’d even read the Feminist Manifesto without too much begging on my part.

  “Okay, we’ll go.”

  “Really?” He looked so happy, I just wanted to cuddle him.

  “Yes, really. I’ll make the reservations as soon as we’re back.”

  The intercom went live again. “Oh, Commander Martini? Just wanted you to know the Princess Resort called. Your suite is confirmed.” The Princess Resort was where my reunion was being held.

  Martini tried to look surprised. “The Princess Resort?”

  “Yes,” Gladys said, and I could have sworn she was smirking. “You’re booked there for three nights next month. Under the Desert Sun High School Reunion room block.”

  “Oh, uh, thanks.” He looked both guilty and panicked.

  “So, you made these reservations, when?”

  “Well, you can cancel them twenty-four hours prior. I just figured you’d end up wanting to go and then all the rooms would be gone.” He couldn’t even look at my face.

  Which was okay, because I wasn’t angry. I hated to admit it, but I thought it was kind of cute.

  He picked it up, and looked at me now. “You’re not mad at me?”

  I hugged him. “No, I’m not mad at you. I know how much you want to go. So, we’ll go. Though I don’t know how we can afford a suite at the Princess.”

  “We have plenty of money.” This was true. I had no idea how they got this money, but I’d never seen any A-C or human agent short of cash. Martini gave me money every week, like an allowance, but he never asked how I spent it. Which was a good thing.

  “So, I’ll register when we’re back.” He was quiet. I thought about it. “Okay, what names did you register us under?”

  He sighed. “Katherine Katt and Jeffrey Martini. Not what I wanted but . . . ”

  “But it’s the truth.” And since I didn’t have an engagement, let alone wedding, ring, the far wiser choice. But I knew better than to say so. Martini was ready to get married at the drop of a shoe, but I wasn’t, and more than me, as last night’s dinner conversation had indicated, the rest of the A-Cs weren’t ready to okay our official union. The few who’d been allowed to marry humans had done so as part of a genetics experiment the older generation of A-Cs felt had been a failure. I didn’t, but I hadn’t made the headway within the Pontifex’s office that I’d hoped. Yet.

  I kissed Martini. “It’s okay. I should be mad, but I’m not. Again, because it means so much to you. You’ll regret it, I’m sure, but we’ll go.”

  “Speaking of going, we’d better get up to Launch level.” Martini got up and pulled me to my feet. We each took a bag, and he took my free hand in his, and we went to the elevators.

  I loved being in the elevator with him—we made out the entire way up. I wanted to do a lot more, and I was sure he did as well, but duty called. Besides, I wasn’t sure if Gladys could intercom us in there or not and had no desire to find out that she could.

  We reached the top level of the Science Center and saw Reader and Tim there already. Gower was nowhere around, which shocked me to my core. We’d never left on a mission without Gower coming to say good-bye to Reader.

  While Martini handled some issues, I grabbed Reader and pulled him aside. “Is everythi
ng okay?”

  He grimaced. “No idea, girlfriend. We weren’t fighting or anything before this. But Paul’s really upset. I’m not sure if he’s not here because he wants to go or doesn’t want the rest of us to go.”

  I hugged him. “I’m sorry.”

  He laughed and kept his arm around my shoulders. “No problem. If he’s still acting funny when we get back, I’ll just tell him I’ve decided to go straight and take you away from all this.”

  It was our joke that wasn’t all that much of a joke. Being together would make our lives so much simpler, and Reader was easily as gorgeous as Martini, one of the few humans who could pass as an A-C. I never said the wrong thing to him, either. Plus his parents would be thrilled if he turned straight. So, winner all the way around. Of course, he was gay and in love with Gower, and I was a lot more in love with Martini than I liked to admit even to myself, but still, we joked about it all the time. Martini never found it funny, though.

  I heard a familiar throat clear behind us. “Mine, thanks.” Martini grabbed my hand and pulled me away from Reader.

  “You worry too much, Jeff,” Reader said, shooting us both his cover-boy grin.

  Martini grunted. “Right. We’re ready to go.” Christopher had joined us while I was talking to Reader. Like the rest of us, he had a small rolling bag.

  “Go where?” I didn’t see a plane.

  “Gate to Saguaro International, we’re catching a plane there.” The way he said it you’d have thought we were going to have our vital organs removed at the same time.

  Since we were carting luggage, we had to go through single-file. Martini went first, then me, followed by Christopher and Reader, with Tim bringing up the rear. I stepped through, and the whooshing race through time and space started, as did my nausea, right on cue. I exited the gate as per normal—wanting to barf my guts out.

  Sadly, I didn’t get that luxury. I had to move out of the toilet stall to see just how many men were already in the restroom waiting to gape at me in horror. Oh, good. A lot of them. Including, lucky me, a policeman. And being the wrong sex in the bathroom was a big deal in Arizona.