Alien in Chief

by Gini Koch

  “Yes. We’ll be ready with whatever you need, whenever you need it.”

  “Excellent, my office will coordinate with yours.”

  “How are we going down?” Jeff asked.

  “I don’t recommend the plane,” I said quickly. “In part because we’re going to have so many in our entourage that the plane might not be able to get off the ground. And a lot of planes flying down sort of screams that the king is fleeing the palace. Plus, if you do have a cold, being up in the air isn’t in your best interests.”

  Armstrong chuckled. “True enough, and I anticipated your entourage. And, happily, I have a solution that will do the double duty you’re so fond of—we’re going to take Rail Force One.”

  That the President has his own railroad version of Air Force One shouldn’t have come as a shock to me when I first found out, but it had. However, it was extremely cool, too, and in ways far different from the mighty plane heralded in song and Harrison Ford movies.

  “Awesome!” I loved the train. The Vice President had Air Force Two and Rail Force Two, and we’d used it a few times, but not often enough in my opinion.

  “I assume we’ll need Rail Force Two as well,” Armstrong said.

  We discussed logistics, and the plan was to hook both trains together, hopefully giving us enough space to bring along everyone who felt they had to join us or die trying.

  In the olden days, before the A-Cs were outed as being on Earth, this never would have happened. Having the President and Vice President both traveling together was considered far too dangerous, because there had been people trying to kill leaders as long as humanity had had leaders. And, realistically, it still was pretty dangerous.

  However, since the VP and most of his entourage were all A-Cs or, in my case, enhanced, the risks were different. It was actually safer for the President to be with us, since an A-C could, and definitely would, grab him and get him to safety faster than anyone else could have a hope of doing.

  From a PR standpoint, Armstrong was all for making the “the A-Cs are our people now” statements as much as he could, and that included showing that he hadn’t asked Jeff to be his running mate just for show. So we were gaining several advantages by traveling in this way, including potential stumping stops along the route, since winning office meant that whatever politician had won his or her office immediately had to start campaigning to win said office again.

  I was all for the train. Not only did that mean we’d get to actually see some scenery, but the food was always far better than on the airplanes. And the added bonus of no one being able to blow us up while in the air was huge, too. Not that I didn’t think that we weren’t at risk from some lunatics trying to blow up the train tracks, but we would be on the ground, essentially, and that gave us far more of an advantage.

  Calmer Plan B in place, we got off the line and went over what Cleary had to do. We needed him back in his home state to prep things for the imminent arrivals and be there to greet us when we disembarked in Orlando. Sadly, not to go to Disney World, despite my suggesting it again, but to head across to the Kennedy Space Center and NASA Base.

  After reassuring Cleary that we weren’t going to allow him to be assassinated, we sent him home via a gate. We also sent three Field teams with him. He was the easy one. We had a gigantic entourage coming along for the ride and we weren’t taking gates.

  But before we could discuss our team’s logistics, my phone beeped. “Huh. Lillian Culver wants to grab me for a late lunch.”

  “Why?” Jeff asked. Rightly. Culver was the head lobbyist for the top defense contractors, most of whom were our enemies. However, due to a variety of things that had happened, my “uncles’” intervention being one of the biggest, she’d become an ally. However, she wasn’t one to want Girl Time.

  “She says she heard something that may or may not be significant, but if it is, then she wants me forewarned and herself advised. She’s suggesting we go to the Teetotaler so that it looks like we’re really having a fun time together, rather than her coming into the Embassy.”

  The Teetotaler was one of our favorite little restaurants near the Capitol and Rayburn House, where Jeff’s offices had been when he’d been a Representative.

  “She want me there, too?”

  “She hasn’t said, should I ask?”

  “No. If she’s coming to get you, I’ll wait with you and take you to her car. If she wants me along, then it’ll look like she was always getting both of us. If not, fine, I’ll just go back inside.”

  “I’ll be tailing you in a car,” Buchanan said. “The boys are required to go with you. She’s aware of that, I know, but has she figured on it?”

  “No idea, but she’ll be here in five minutes so we’re going to find out together.”

  CHAPTER 8

  CULVER DROVE A very nice Bentley, which pulled up in front of our Embassy exactly as promised.

  I wasn’t really Dressed for Bentley Success, seeing as I was in jeans, my red Converse, and one of my newer Aerosmith shirts that had just Steven Tyler and Joe Perry on the front. Normally I preferred to roll with all of my boys in the band on my chest, but I hadn’t been expecting action. Hopefully the only action I’d have is the hard decision about what tea to have at the restaurant.

  I’d had just enough time to run upstairs at hyperspeed and grab my purse, ensuring that it had my Glock, several clips, and anything else of vital importance in it, and get back down before Culver had arrived.

  Jeff, Len, and Kyle all went down the walkway with me. Culver left the car running but got out. “Jeff, nice to see you. Gentlemen, I’ll let you do what you do best.”

  She was dressed as I was used to—in red, which was “her” color. Her lipstick always matched. Culver was one of those women who, when you first looked at her, seemed very attractive. But, the longer you looked, the more you realized she was all bones and angles, and when she smiled widely, she always reminded me of the Joker after he’d pulled a particularly nasty stunt on the people of Gotham. I called her Joker Jaws to myself for this reason. However, not nearly as much these days as when we’d first met. Go D.C. politics.

  Len grinned. “I like your style, Miz Culver.”

  She was married to Abner Schnekedy—who I’d had the “fun” of meeting in my Washington Wife class along with many other people who were now either still my enemies, dead or, somehow, my friends—but had wisely kept her maiden name for business.

  Len got into the driver’s seat while Kyle trotted around and opened the driver’s side rear door for her.

  “You want Jeff, too? Or is this just girls and bodyguards only?”

  “I think just the four of us, if that won’t offend you, Jeff.”

  “Not at all. Just make sure all four of you get back in one piece.”

  “Wow, optimistic much?” I leaned up and kissed him goodbye. “I’ll text or call if we need you, I promise.”

  “I’ll be monitoring you, baby, don’t worry.” He tucked me into the car as Kyle came around and took shotgun.

  We waited to drive off until Jeff was back in the Embassy. Once we were rolling, Culver leaned back and sighed. “Having a driver is a wonderful thing.”

  “Yeah, the boys are great. Why are we hanging out?”

  “To pretend that I haven’t given you the information I’m about to give you.” She looked behind us. “Is that your Mister Buchanan behind us?”

  Looked as well. There was a taxicab behind us that seemed to be following us. “Yes,” Len and I said in unison.

  Culver laughed. “Good. I feel much safer.”

  “You normally don’t feel unsafe, Lillian. What’s up?”

  “Several things. There’s a new player in town. European, I think. I haven’t met him yet. But Thomas is working a business deal, and from the little he’s told me, it could give Titan Security the edge in the weaponized robotics
field.”

  “You mean more of an edge than they, Gaultier Enterprises, and YatesCorp have already?”

  “Yes. I have no idea if it’s related to the supersoldier program, or the androids that you’ve told me about, but it’s the first time I’ve heard of this player. His name is Gustav Drax.”

  “That has freaking got to be a made up name.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. I haven’t been able to find anything on him, so I can’t say.”

  “Is he an arms dealer?”

  “I’d assume so, until proven otherwise.”

  “Fabulous. Well, I guess it’s good to be forewarned and all that.” Heard what sounded like a really loud motorcycle. The Bentley’s soundproofing was good, meaning that either its engine was about to die or we had the mother of all Harleys next to us.

  “That’s only one thing,” Culver said, as I turned to look at what was indeed a Harley coming up fast. “The other is—”

  She was interrupted because Kyle shouted a warning and Len swerved so fast and so hard that she and I were both tossed to the side and down. Which was a good thing, seeing as an arrow hit the seat rest her head had just been leaning against.

  My reflexes were fast, and I was used to being under attack. Plus, I’d gotten a glance at the Harley’s rider, so had seen it was a blonde chick. So while Len floored it, and Kyle continued to shout at us to get down, I was already on the floor, pulling Culver down there with me.

  “Glad the glass is shatterproof. Lillian, are you okay?”

  “Yes.” She looked up. “That was intended for me, wasn’t it?”

  “I think so. Um, were you going to tell me that there’s a rogue assassin in town who’s a chick who’s using a crossbow?”

  “Yes, I was. She tried to kill Gideon Cleary earlier today.”

  “Yeah, Chuckie saved him.”

  “Don McMillan wasn’t as lucky.”

  My body went cold. “Is he okay?” Senator McMillan was the senior senator from Arizona and someone we all considered one of the few honest politicians out there. And he was a good friend.

  “Yes, but only because he still has a soldier’s reflexes and intuition. She only winged him.”

  “So that’s two of our allies, and you make number three.”

  “Count us as three through seven, Kitty,” Kyle said. “Because she’s following us.”

  “Where’s Malcolm?”

  “Not keeping up,” Len said tightly, as he weaved us in and out of traffic. At least, that was what I assumed he was doing, since Culver and I were sliding back and forth on the floor, hearing a ton of people honking at us and the sound of screeching breaks. “This car’s got a lot of power, thank God.”

  “Head for somewhere with a lot of security.”

  “I’m open to ideas,” Len said.

  “Andrews. Get us to the Air Force base.”

  “You got it, we’re close to the Beltway.”

  I could tell when we hit the Beltway because apparently the Bentley had more power than Len had been using on the surface streets. We were going much faster, though still weaving, and I didn’t hear nearly as many honking horns.

  “She’s still in pursuit,” Kyle said. “Andrews is prepped for our arrival.”

  But before we could get there I heard a sound. I’d heard the sound before. And it was never a good sound when you were going really fast.

  We’d blown a tire.

  CHAPTER 9

  “SHE’S SHOT A TIRE OUT!” Kyle shared, as we spun. Heard another explosion. “Two!”

  Because Len was a great driver, we didn’t flip and somehow we also didn’t hit anything and no one hit us. But we did come to a stop, after a few dizzying seconds.

  The Harley was nearby, I could hear it. And that meant the four of us were sitting ducks.

  I didn’t really think about it. I was the only one with hyperspeed in this car, and if Huntress was on a motorcycle, then she wasn’t an A-C. A-C’s had reflexes that were so good they couldn’t handle human machinery because they’d destroy it. So whoever Huntress was, she was a human. Or, based on Culver’s recent revelations, an android. And I’d fought androids before and won.

  I put my purse over my neck. “Protect Lillian and call for backup!” I shouted as I leaped out and slammed the door behind me.

  We were actually on the off-ramp, which was probably why we hadn’t been hit by anyone else. And the Harley was coming right for us, its rider’s crossbow aimed right for me.

  The chick was in black leather, so totally into the whole look. She was definitely blonde. And she was also definitely wearing a mask that covered the top half of her face. Always the way.

  She shot and I readied myself to catch the arrow. But something went past me and caught it instead. She shot again, the arrow was grabbed again.

  “Don’t just stand there,” Christopher shouted at me. “Get her!”

  Didn’t have to tell me twice, especially since my own personal Flash was now on the scene. I went after the motorcycle on foot. And she gunned it and took off at top speed.

  Christopher caught up to me, grabbed my hand, and then we took off at his Flash level. This would ensure that I threw up the moment we stopped, but I planned to throw up on our Huntress chick, so all was well.

  We caught the Harley because A-Cs were fast enough to begin with, I’d been a sprinter and hurdler in high school and college and daily life ensured those skills remained sharp, and nothing was going to outrun Christopher, other than possibly a supersonic jet, but I’d still put money on Christopher, best two out of three.

  As we reached her, I realized we had to stop the motorcycle on top of grabbing Huntress, because she was heading into a lot of traffic, and a bike this big and heavy going this fast would do serious damage to whatever it hit.

  Jumped onto the back of the bike behind her. She hit at me, and I hit back. Neither one of us was landing anything that had any power. Android was starting to seem as unlikely as A-C.

  Christopher leaped on behind me, meaning we had three people on a motorcycle built for two. Tried not to let the old song, “Daisy, Daisy” play in my mind, but without my iPod going, that particular earworm took hold. Oh well, it was a cheerful turn of the past century song my paternal grandparents had sung to me and there were worse songs to play on repeat in my head, after all.

  I was revved up enough and we hadn’t been at the Flash level for too long, so I was able to contain the nausea. Which was good, because I wanted to barf on this chick’s face as I ripped her freaking mask off.

  However, what I wanted and what I was going to get were two different things. She was still hitting at me, but as she swerved us into the slow lane and we passed a clear area, she slammed her elbow into me, wrenched out of my hold, and jumped off the bike.

  Reflexes took over and I grabbed the handlebars and slid forward. Managed to keep the throttle open, because if I hadn’t, the bike would have gone down, with us under it.

  “You weren’t holding onto her?” Christopher shouted as he, too, slid forward.

  “Jump off and go get her!”

  “I don’t know where she is now. Because you let her go.”

  “Blame and chastise later. It’s been a while. Lean if I lean, don’t if I don’t. Dig through my purse and get my sunglasses—a bug in my eye means we’re dead. And hold onto me.”

  On the plus side, I knew how to ride a motorcycle, mostly because of an ex-boyfriend in college, and also because Reader, Tim, the flyboys, and I had all gone riding several times. We normally rode crotch rockets when we indulged, but the principles were the same. And I’d had a ride on a supersonic cycle in Bizarro World, going so fast I could and did move around the insects. So I was good, bugs hitting me or not.

  On the not plus side, this bike was going hella fast and even though I was easing up on the throttle, I h
ad to slow us down, not come to a screeching halt, because Christopher and I weren’t in gear, let alone helmets, and the last time I’d hit my head I’d ended up in Bizarro World. Going splat on the highway was not my preferred plan.

  Thankfully, Christopher found my sunglasses in record time and put them on me, which was nice, and smart, since I wasn’t ready to let go with one hand.

  We had to maneuver through traffic until I could get the bike slowed down enough that I felt safe trying to stop. To Christopher’s credit, he leaned when he was supposed to.

  “This is far too much like our first airplane ride,” he said as we got around a trash truck.

  Decided I didn’t want to stop anywhere near something that big and we rode on, looking for the next exit. “Yeah? I’m ignoring you. Besides, it’s not relevant. This isn’t my first time on a motorcycle.”

  “Really? Based on how we’re wobbling, you could have fooled me.”

  Decided stopping wasn’t going to happen here. It was called the Beltway for a reason, and I was shifting, breaking, and accelerating like a pro. Revved the bike and zipped us through traffic. It was time to get back to the Bentley.

  “If I apologize will you slow down and let me off?” Christopher shouted.

  “No.”

  Other than my being slightly nervous that we weren’t in gear, wishing there were no such things as flying insects, and being ever so thankful that Christopher had gotten my sunglasses onto my face, the ride was pretty fun.

  We reached the Bentley and I was able to safely pull over next to it. Just in time to hear sirens.

  As we got off the bike and I managed to get the kickstand down and not drop the bike to the ground, three police cars pulled up. Len, Kyle, and Culver all stood up—apparently they’d been hiding behind the Bentley which, since it was essentially off the highway, made some kind of sense. Not tons of sense, but some.

  “Let me do the talking,” I said to Christopher. “And definitely keep your hands where they can see them.”