Universal Alien

by Gini Koch

  LaRue laughed one of those low, nasty laughs. She was really good at them, in any universe. The assassins, picking up a cue, all sniggered along. LaRue shot them a look and they shut up. “I’ve been waiting a long time for someone like you.”

  “How do you mean? Someone who isn’t impressed with your crap? I cannot have been the first.”

  “No, you idiot. A genetic leap. Or a visitor from another planet, or another, future time. You’re one of those.”

  Ah. So they didn’t know who I was, just that, somehow, I could do things that were unheard of on this planet. Hence why they thought I was an alien or a time traveler. She hadn’t included Alfred, Cox, or even Stripes in this, meaning they were thinking everything we had and were doing was from me. It was a small favor, but I was willing to take it.

  “It’s a nice compliment, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You can go invisible and make other things invisible,” Bernie spat out. “And you have increased strength.”

  “Oh. That. Well, it’s a long story. But, LaRue, I’m more interested in your story.”

  “Really?” She sounded mildly surprised.

  “Why do you care about her?” Cliff asked. He sounded just a teensy bit peeved. “I’m the one who created the Death Ray.”

  Vanity. His weakness was absolutely vanity. And hers probably was, too. One didn’t become a Bond Supervillain with without a hell of a lot of vanity egging you on, after all.

  “Are you? I’m not so sure. I mean, usually—and LaRue and even Bernie can probably back me up on this—men like to take the credit for what women create and think up.” Madeline Cartwright had certainly felt this way, and since I wasn’t in the best position to bargain, it was time to channel Cartwright and see what I could come up with.

  “LaRue assisted,” Cliff said.

  Her eyes narrowed. “I more than assisted. You’re not a scientist.”

  “It’s my design, and my plan,” Cliff said airily. But then, LaRue was looking at me, not him, so he couldn’t see her expression. If he’d seen her expression, he might have apologized.

  “And Cliff’s vendetta, too,” I added helpfully.

  LaRue looked confused. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, why in the world do you care about hurting anyone in this room? I get why Cliff’s upset—my mother killed his father-figure and that can get a person into a Kill Bill kind of mindset.” I was certainly in said mindset, for example. And, sure, Chuckie had said he’d actually killed Reid. But now was not the time to remind anyone with a weapon about that. “But no one here has done anything to you, LaRue. I don’t think anyone here other than me knows who you are.”

  “Who am I?” she asked with a smirk.

  “You’re the brains of the operation, the power behind the throne, and the person who should probably rightfully be called the Mastermind.”

  LaRue smiled. A small, funny, proud little smile. “You’re much more insightful than you seem.” Sent a mental thank you to Cartwright, wherever she was.

  “Oh, please,” Cliff said derisively. “LaRue is my partner, yes, but I’m the one in charge. And I can see what you’re doing. You’re trying to drive a wedge between us. Well, it won’t work. LaRue is more than my partner, she’s my woman.”

  “That’s what men like to say when they’re taking credit for your ideas, isn’t it?” I said in a “just girls” tone.

  “Where are you from?” LaRue asked me, fairly nicely. “Seriously, I want to know.”

  My brain nudged. She was asking this too much. She did want to know, but her attitude no longer seemed supercilious, or even curious. She sounded just a tiny bit hopeful. And Stripes felt she didn’t smell right, and he wasn’t passing judgment on her perfume.

  When Cartwright and I had been chatting, we’d gotten along, because we’d actually understood each other. In my world, LaRue had been an adversary for as long as I’d known her—Amy’s father’s mistress wasn’t going to be my buddy. But here, we’d never crossed paths. So, in that sense, this was a fresh relationship.

  My father had always instructed me that when you were asked a question you didn’t know how or didn’t want to answer, it was more than acceptable to answer that question with another question. It was sound advice that had served me well.

  “Where are you from?”

  LaRue’s eyes widened just a bit. “Far away. And you?”

  “Second star to the right and straight on ’til morning.”

  “Ah. I’m from farther than that.”

  And she hadn’t read the classics while she’d been here. Which was interesting. Alfred was a stranded alien, and he’d read and watched everything, as near as I could tell. Algar was the same—per my King of the Elves, there wasn’t a book, movie, record, or TV show he’d missed. But LaRue appeared to have no idea I was quoting from Peter Pan. Which showed an amazing lack of interest in the arts of this world. And art reflected and affected society, which was part of why Alfred and Algar had paid attention to Earth’s art.

  In my world, when LaRue had left Alpha Four in a stolen starship, she’d headed to parts unknown and had returned with the Z’Porrah, who were enemies of mankind. They were also enemies of the Ancients. And yet, they’d come across the galaxy to help LaRue, who certainly looked like a human, try to take over Earth. And LaRue’s hair had still been the same dyed color when she returned as it had been when she’d left.

  Chuckie was the Conspiracy King and he’d trained me well. And, per Sherlock Holmes and my “uncle,” Peter the Dingo Dog, when you removed all the other possibilities, the one that remained, no matter how bizarre, was the truth.

  There could be many reasons why LaRue smelled wrong to an Earth animal. And there were a lot of good and bad reasons to clone. But there was one reason that made sense for both—she wasn’t a human or an A-C, and if you had no one else to mate with, cloning was your only option to continue your race.

  “It’s hard to be the last of your kind, isn’t it?”

  She got a funny look on her face. “Some still exist.”

  Took my best guess. “At the galactic core, sure, maybe. If they haven’t died out by now. And on Beta Twelve. But they mingled in centuries ago, they aren’t pure.”

  “No, they’re not.”

  Managed not to high five myself. Time for my next guess. “Did you come in the nineteen-fifties? You look way too young to have been here that long.”

  The compliment worked. LaRue shot me a friendly smile. “We age differently than humans, but no. I was on the team that followed up when those sent here on the mission you’re referring to didn’t check in at the planned time.”

  “Did they stay here?”

  She shook her head. “No. Frankly, they were just late to contact the Home World. However, my mission was already launched.” She shrugged. “I was the communications officer and I didn’t feel any need to share that we’d been recalled.”

  “So, when you came here, did you decide to change sides, or were you always a Z’Porrah spy?” Had my guess, of course, but it was better to have her confirm or deny.

  LaRue shrugged. “I have more in common with the Z’Porrah than my own people.”

  I was batting a thousand. If only we weren’t all still in extremely grave danger I’d preen. Hopefully there’d be time for that later. Hopefully we’d get a later. “We call your people the Ancients where I come from. Is that the name you use for yourselves?”

  “No, but it’s not pronounceable for most other races. It means ‘people,’ though. And Ancients is a good name for them.” Now she sounded bitter.

  “What did they do to you? That made you change sides, I mean.”

  “That’s enough,” Cliff snarled at me. He looked at LaRue. “You’re an alien? And you never told me?”

  LaRue shrugged and turned away from me. “You never asked
.” Their attention was focused on each other and the assassins’ shocked attention was focused on them. I’d never have a better chance.

  Sent a request up to whoever might be listening for this effort to go a lot better than the last one. Then I rolled.

  CHAPTER 77

  WELL, I rolled standing up.

  Flipped myself into a standing forward roll and threw my helmet at Bernie’s head. Kicked the gun down and out of LaRue’s hand. Landed on the gun, hard, crouched down, and slammed my elbow up into Cliff’s groin. As he buckled, grabbed the Death Ray nozzle and turned it back toward the machine itself. But I couldn’t figure out how to trigger the ray. My helmet hit Bernie square in the face and slammed her back into the TV wall.

  As all this went on, Cantu fired at Raul at the same time Raul fired at him. Wanted a Glock. Remembered I had knives my purse. Grabbed one in each hand. Stabbed a knife into Cliff’s chest while I did a spinning low kick and knocked LaRue off her feet. At the same time, Alfred followed my lead and slammed his helmet into Raul’s head, then ran, knives at the ready, and cut Chuckie, Reader, and Buchanan loose.

  Cox and Stripes were also reacting, but they looked like they were moving in slow motion compared to Alfred and even slower compared to me because I was going so fast. Cox headed toward Cantu. The trajectory and size of Raul’s bullet meant that Cox and Cantu both were going to be shot.

  I was crouched down now as if I was in sprinter’s blocks right before a race. Dropped the other knife and launched myself, aiming between Cox and Cantu, arms wide. Hit them both in their midsections and took them down as the bullet sailed harmlessly into the wall.

  Well, sort of harmlessly. The bullet hit a machine, and that machine blew steam out, big time. This created the creepy atmosphere this entire scenario had so been missing.

  Flipped into a crouch and took in what I could of the scene. Cantu had missed Raul and hit a TV screen. My men were engaging in hand-to-hand with the three male assassins. Stripes was on Bernie’s face, yowling, clawing, and biting. Alfred had freed the kids and had them behind him. And LaRue was up, with the Death Ray nozzle in her hand. I was pretty sure she knew how to turn it on.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” she snarled. “I was willing to let you live.”

  “But only if I agreed to let you clone me.” Stood up and moved nearer to the back of the Death Ray machine. If she was focused on me, she couldn’t hit anyone else. Noted there was another pipe that attached in to the bottom of the frame and connected to the machines behind it. Had no idea what this meant for me in terms of stopping anything.

  The men hadn’t stopped fighting, but LaRue ignored them. Which was too bad, seeing as she missed Buchanan, Reader, and Chuckie all twist Sanchez, Lopez, and Raul’s necks farther than necks were meant to twist, pretty much in unison. Wondered if they practiced that, or if Mom’s team here had just been the gold medalists in the Synchronized Neck Breaking competition.

  Bernie was still alive, however, and as she got up, screaming, she threw Stripes off of her. Who twisted midair, claws out, and landed on LaRue’s head, yowling the cat version of “yippee-ki-yay mofo” at the top of his cat lungs.

  I didn’t hesitate. Ran forward and grabbed the Death Ray nozzle, too. LaRue was strong, but I was stronger. As Bernie tried to shoot at me, Buchanan repeated history, at least for me, grabbed Sanchez’s gun, and shot Bernie in the head. I would have applauded, but my hands were full.

  Cliff lurched up, knife still sticking out of his chest. “Kill . . . them all,” he gasped out as he grabbed at me. “Do it now.”

  “Kitty, if the nozzle hits the thermal core, it will self-destruct,” Alfred shouted.

  “What?” As if I could tell where the thermal core was. “Alfred, get everyone up those stairs and out of here!”

  “Slam the nozzle into the big round ball in the middle,” Chuckie translated. Thanked God that in any and all universes he spoke Kitty.

  Heard glass break and then a clanging sound and risked a look. Cox had broken the “In Case of Fire” case open, grabbed the ax, and was slamming it onto the pipe on the floor, the one that connected the Death Ray to the machines.

  “No!” Cliff shouted, as he let go of me and ran around the Death Ray. He pulled the knife out of his chest as he bore down on Cox, who wasn’t paying attention to anything but the pipe he was chopping.

  “Bill!” I could not watch Cox die again, I just couldn’t.

  Cox, hearing me shout, swung around, ax in hand. The ax, thanks to its handle, was a lot longer than Cliff’s arms. And, thanks to how Cox had been holding it and was spinning, the blade was at just the right height when it connected with Cliff’s neck.

  Apparently it hadn’t been dulled by hitting the pipe.

  “Whoa!” That was shouted by everyone who was watching, LaRue and myself included, as Cliff’s head bounced off the machine and, this being my life, ricocheted into Cantu. Who, to his great credit, didn’t scream. At least until he caught the head automatically. Then he screamed like a banshee as he threw it across the room and out onto the Underground Path of Potential Doom. Heard an explosion, meaning Cliff’s head had landed on a pressure plate.

  Alfred took all of this as a clear sign to finally listen to me and leave. He ran the kids upstairs and was back in a flash to grab Buchanan and Reader, who just managed to grab Chuckie. They all disappeared as well.

  In this same time period of approximately two seconds, Cox neither screamed nor ran. He just spun around and slammed his now bloody ax back onto the pipe. Cliff’s body landed against the wall with all the machines and sprayed blood on them. Things started to sound like they were shorting out and this distracted LaRue just a bit.

  Took the opportunity and did what Alfred and Chuckie had told me to—I shoved the Death Ray nozzle against the metal sphere. Just as LaRue undistracted herself and activated the beam.

  I let go and flipped the hyperspeed up to well past eleven. Grabbed Stripes by the scruff of his neck and pulled him off LaRue’s head, spun, and ran for Cantu. Shoved Stripes at Cantu’s chest while I grabbed his arm. The cat was smart, and dug his claws into Cantu’s clothes. Based on the look of pain starting to come onto Cantu’s face, Stripes probably had his claws in skin, too.

  Didn’t pause, because Cantu had proved that he had a good catching reflex, and that meant he was going to hold onto Stripes. Grabbed Cox in mid-swing. The impact caused him to let go of the ax. Would have looked to have seen where it went, but sprinters who looked behind them lost their races.

  Ran us up the stairs faster than I could blink. Could have sworn I saw something fluffy going past me but turning to look was still not in the cards. No one was in the garage, which was good. I was faster than the SUV could ever be, so I kept on moving. A wall was broken out, meaning I had a good idea of where Alfred had run. Went that way, too.

  Got outside and to the far wall as the ground under us rumbled. Ran us past the wall and to where I could see the rest of our group was as the ground started to crumble down in an implosion worthy of a Spielberg movie.

  Stopped running when we reached the others and did a fast head count. All accounted for, cat included. Took Stripes from Cantu and cuddled him, then handed him to Cox. Spun around to see the entire complex go down as if it was being sucked into the bowels of the earth. Readied myself to grab everyone and run, but while the outer wall and the tree went down, the cave-in stopped well away from us.

  Realized that the speeders were going to go down, too. Grabbed Alfred and took off. We reached the area they’d been in just in time. He hit something and they appeared. He grabbed one, I picked up two, and we ran them back, as the ground slipped away behind us almost as fast as we were running.

  But not quite. Reached the others and put the speeders down. Alfred fiddled with them, but since the immediate danger was over, I took the opportunity, grabbed the kids, and checked them for injuries. Realized I
was still moving at hyperspeed by the confused looks on their faces and the panicked look on Chuckie’s.

  Alfred put his hand on my shoulder. I could feel him slowing me down. “It’s okay, Kitty,” he said. “Everyone’s here, everyone’s alright.”

  Let myself slow down and hugged the kids tightly, but not too tight. Then got up and hugged Chuckie. After a long hug, let go and hugged Reader, then Buchanan. And then asked the question, praying the answer wouldn’t make me cry. “What happened to everyone else at the embassy?”

  “They’re safe,” Buchanan said. Let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “The underground room we were in last night doubles as their bunker. Everyone got in and the doors locked in time.”

  “In time for what?”

  “In time for the embassy to be bombed to bits,” Reader said. “But your dad, Carla, Peter, and Caroline are all safe. They were inside the bunker.”

  “Why weren’t the six of you inside said bunker?”

  “Well, I was searching for you,” Chuckie said. “As were some others.” He looked at the boys. Charlie looked like he knew he was in trouble, but Max looked defiant.

  “She was gone, and we couldn’t leave her,” Max said. “And Stripes was gone, too.”

  “I left a note.”

  “I was awakened by the sounds of bombs exploding,” Chuckie said dryly. “I didn’t stop to read. I had Jamie, and thought I had Charlie and Max. But when we got into the corridor, each one went a different way.”

  “Charlie ran into us,” Reader said. “So we had Leah, Oren, and Jakob get the others downstairs. Charlie refused to go without his siblings, parents, and cat, and by refused I mean he thrashed and kicked.”

  “I’m sorry, Uncle James,” Charlie said quietly.

  Reader shot him the cover boy smile. “It’s okay. Now. But by the time Buchanan had caught Max, we were blocked from the bunker by six well-armed commandos. We could let them take us or kill us. We let them take us.”