Alien vs. Alien

by Gini Koch

  Yi

  CHAPTER 65

  “I’LL TAKE THEM, SIR,” Morgan said. “That way, they remain in our control.”

  Franklin didn’t look excited. “Are you sure, Captain?” Captain, not Gil. Meaning he was likely going to approve it officially somehow.

  “Captains in place!” Bellie squawked. “Captain is good man! Captain can do!”

  “Why is that bird talking about Cliff and Esteban?” Morgan asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “We were told whose bird she used to be. And the names she just said—Goodman, Cantu. She’s calling them captains. Why?”

  The rest of us had heard it in syllables, but Morgan heard what, now that I thought of it, Bellie was probably saying. She called Clarence ‘Tino,’ after all. And, as I thought about it, she’d done Armstrong in two distinct squawks, not one, when greeting the senator.

  “Chuckie trusts Cliff.”

  “But not Cantu,” Buchanan said. “Rightly.”

  “And good man is too wide a term. Everyone keeps on saying Colonel Hamlin is a good man, for example.”

  “It’s Hammy time!”

  This time we all stared at Bellie. “I have to ask this. While I was in Florida, was Jeff listening to a lot of M.C. Hammer?”

  “No,” Tito said. “Not at all.”

  “Then Bellie’s certainly heard someone talk about a Hammy.”

  “That’s Colonel Hamlin’s nickname,” Franklin said. “At least among his peers and close friends.”

  Morgan nodded. “Cliff calls him that, too. When they’re both at ease, I mean.”

  “I really want to question the parrot some more, because I just live for bird chats these days, but we have to get the damn pictures to Christopher. Like now.”

  Morgan and Franklin debated, but it turned out there were several sets of the pictures, and Franklin had another on hand. There was, of course, the standard, required angst about security breaches, as well as chain-of-command crap. Resolved by my pointing out that we actually were the only people likely able to do anything with the invasion information and the only ones with a prayer of getting Alpha Four on board.

  Drama Llama Time over for the moment, I sent a text to Christopher to let him know what was going on and who was coming while White calibrated the gate.

  Morgan stepped through. It was no less nauseating to see someone do the slow fade than to experience it. Christopher shared that Morgan was safely in the Dome and that he was calling a high-level meeting. He actually had more of Centaurion Division’s top personnel in the Dome than not, so this made sense.

  As we left the bathroom, I asked Franklin the question I should have asked Chuckie during Operation Confusion. “Is there anyone at the C.I.A. we can trust to help us, and help Chuckie, or is it literally him and Centaurion against the world?” It was a shot in the dark that he might know, but I had nothing.

  Franklin looked pensive. “Well . . . his superiors like him.”

  “How superior?”

  “Very superior. He’s well thought of, for a variety of reasons, by those at the very top. Which probably means that anyone at a similar level is angling for his position.”

  This I already knew to be true. And Armstrong had confirmed that Chuckie was on the fast track to top levels; a track Cantu had been on before Chuckie had arrived at the C.I.A.’s doors.

  “We need C.I.A. help, because we have to figure out what Chuckie’s protocols are so that we can contact Alpha Four. I don’t know if it’s a good idea to call the head honcho, though.” And I figured I’d rather have Mom do that than me. She was so less likely to screw that conversation up. But Mom was busy protecting the President, and, under the circumstances, that seemed vitally important.

  Franklin headed for his office. I followed him. He went to his desk and rummaged around. “I was given a packet to review. Haven’t gotten all the way through it yet.” He pulled out a binder that would have given Paul Bunyan a hernia.

  “Dude, are you serious? They call that a packet in the Air Force?”

  He laughed. “Yes. Hang on, I think there’s something in here about C.I.A. contact.” He thumbed through the Encyclopedia Centaurion while I fretted.

  The rest of the gang joined us, Bellie and Bruno included. It was more comfortable in the other room, but no one wanted to lounge around. Everyone looked worried, which I assumed meant everyone felt scared or terrified but weren’t willing to let it show.

  “What are we doing to find Chuck and Jeff,” Naomi asked me quietly while Franklin continued his search.

  “I don’t know.”

  Bruno warbled, and I heard mewling from my purse. Looked inside to see Harlie, Poofikins, and Fluffy, who was Chuckie’s Poof. Bruno warbled again. The Poofs grumbled. Oh, goody, another argument.

  I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and focused on my inner Talk To The Animals Powers. I was able to understand the Peregrines without trying. But I’d had the Poofs longer, so that should count for something. Opened my eyes. “Poofies, may Kitty have a word?”

  The Poofs poured out of my purse, settled at my feet, looked up, and gave me their totally focused, adorable attention. There was a blanket of cuteness in front of me, making me think that Harlie had called in reinforcements, and that they all hadn’t been in my purse a few moments ago.

  I knelt down. “Thanks. Harlie, does Fluffy know where Jeff and Chuckie are?”

  The Poofs mewled and grumbled. Fluffy jumped up and down.

  “I see. Can Fluffy find Jeff and Chuckie? It’ll require regular animal searching, I think. But I also think I know where to start.”

  More Poof mewling. Bruno cawed derisively. Several Poofs growled.

  “No fighting. Bruno makes a good point. We’re well beyond DEFCON Worse. We’re at DEFCON Oh My God, and even I don’t know what DEFCON we’re going to hit soon. We need Jeff and Chuckie, very much. We’d need them even if we didn’t love them.”

  More Poof mewling and growling. “Yes, noted. But Jeff and Chuckie are more important. Kitty will work on that if you’ll find them.”

  Poof purrs. Great. “Okay. Head to the tunnels under the Embassy. Start there and search. They could be farther away, but I think they’re being held closer.”

  The Poofs cocked their heads at me.

  “Feminine intuition.”

  The Poof heads straightened up. I received more purrs.

  “Super. Search high and low, and report back as soon as you know anything that might interest Kitty, even if it’s not about Jeff and Chuckie. You all be careful, too. Kitty doesn’t want to lose any Poofies.”

  This earned me tremendously loud Poof purrs. All of them snuggled up to me, which was a lot of concentrated cuteness at one go. But I was fine with it and felt a little better afterward.

  The Poofs disappeared, and I heard a throat clear behind me. “Ah,” Tito said, “what are you working on for the Poofs?”

  “They want me to figure out what’s going on with the supersoldiers.”

  “Really.” Tito’s tone was very neutral. “Why is that?”

  “Because the Poofs think we’re going to need to use them.” I stood up, ignoring the looks of horror, amusement, and concern on most of the faces looking at me. “Anything yet, Colonel?”

  “Here it is,” Franklin said. He was deep into the Encyclopedia Centaurion, so wasn’t paying that much attention to my Dr. Doolittle impersonation. “It’s sort of hidden, but it appears that I’ve found the hierarchy of command for dealing with Centaurion. In all cases, first point of contact is Charles Reynolds. If he’s incapacitated or unavailable, next options are to contact. . . .” His voice trailed off.

  We all looked at him. “Who?”

  Franklin shook his head. “This can’t be right.” He thumbed through a few more pages in the Book of Bigness. He shook his head again. And looked worried.

  “Colonel, may I ask what you’re concerned about?” White asked.

  Franklin grimaced. “I expected to see official names o
r titles—P.T.C.U., head of the C.I.A., the President, even.” Franklin seemed to be talking to himself more than any of us. “Possibly Reynolds’ second in commaÀnd or other underlings.”

  Chuckie had a second in command? I knew he had underlings—Len and Kyle were two of them—and he did make calls and have operatives do things like hunt down the Pontifex when he was in danger. But they never interacted with us directly. Ever. And I’d never heard him call one person specifically.

  “But the names are not those names?” White asked, managing to sound both polite and unstressed, which was better than I was going to manage.

  Franklin was still talking to himself. “Hell, maybe Mort’s name, mine, even. This makes absolutely no sense.”

  There was a pointed silence. “Erm, Colonel? What name do you see?”

  He looked straight at me. “Stryker Dane.”

  I couldn’t help it. I started to laugh.

  Yi

  CHAPTER 66

  “WHO?” THIS WAS CHORUSED by everyone in the room other than Colonel Franklin. Even by Naomi and Abigail. Interesting. Out of everyone, I’d have thought Chuckie would have shared this bit of intel with them. Apparently not. But then again, he’d told them to come to me in this type of emergency.

  I got myself under control. “Stryker Dane is probably the most famous conspiracy theorist going. He’s the guy who writes the Taken Away books. About his being abducted by aliens and taken to their world for experiments, that sort of thing. I think there are like ten books in the series, maybe more. He also runs a pretty popular website and an even more active blog. Kind of an underground celebrity.”

  “Oh, him.” Tito nodded. “I think he’s done book tours that came to Vegas. I never went. But why is that funny? I mean, you were laughing like a hyena.”

  “Pardon me. I just find Chuckie’s sense of humor funny.”

  “How does this have anything to do with Reynolds, in that sense?” Buchanan asked.

  “It’s a message from him. I don’t know why Stryker’s down as the next guy on the list, but I have a guess.”

  “At the edge of our seats, so to speak,” White said.

  “Chuckie must have been able to influence what went into his part of this briefing book. And Colonel Hamlin wasn’t someone he trusted or liked.”

  “So?” Franklin was stepping onto the impatience wagon.

  I resisted the urge to sigh. “Stryker Dane is from Arizona.” I waited. No looks of comprehension. “Chuckie’s the Conspiracy King.” Still nothing. Maybe they were all too worried about Jeff and Chuckie and the impending space invasion to make the connection. “He knows Stryker. Very well. And trusts him, more than most of those he deals with on a daily basis.”

  “He trusts a nut job?” Oren asked.

  I coughed. “Have you not been paying attention? I mean, I realize you all got dragged into this sort of unexpectedly, but still. Aliens exist.”

  Jakob shrugged. “We’ve heard certain rumors already, so finding out about what American Centaurion really is, that’s not that much of a shock. But those Taken Away books . . . they’re all full of sh—” He looked at Mona. “Untruths.”

  She chuckled. “I’ve heard the word. And used it. More than once. But Jakob does have a point, Ambassador. Those books are works of fiction.”

  “Yeah, they are. Because Stryker’s a great fiction writer. But, ah, well, he’s also not exactly wrong. And he’s very pro-alien.”

  “You think.” Buchanan didn’t sound convinced.

  “No, I know.” More blank looks, other than from Oliver, who looked both like he believed me and that one of his greatest dreams was coming true. “Gang, really. I’ll say it slowly. Chuckie’s been my friend since ninth grade. My best guy friend since we were thirteen. We went to high school and college together.” Blank looks that indicated annoyance was coming up fast. I gave in to the urge to sigh heavily. “I know Stryker. Personally.”

  “Great.” Tito didn’t sound as though he meant it. “So what are we supposed to do? Race to Arizona, dig out the head wacko, and ask him for help?”

  “No. We’re going to make a phone call and then probably drive over to see him.” The blankness in the room was awe-inspiring. “He lives here now. He’s made a good living off those books.”

  “You keep in touch with him?” Buchanan seemed to be trying to channel Jeff, just to keep me on my jealousy toes. Oliver, meanwhile, was salivating. I was sort of surprised that he didn’t know Stryker personally, but then again, I knew Stryker, and Stryker trusted fewer people than Chuckie did.

  I couldn’t hold out any longer and rolled my eyes. “I keep in touch with Chuckie, to put it mildly. Chuckie keeps in touch with Stryker. The page our friend the Colonel is looking at is there solely for a situation such as this—why would anyone, ever, read that gut buster otherwise? Something’s gone wrong, we don’t know what to do, so pull out the big book and see what’s in there. Chuckie wants Stryker contacted either because he’s briefed Stryker on something or because said contact will alert Stryker to something he has to do for Chuckie.”

  “You’re sure, Missus Martini?” At least White didn’t look annoyed.

  “Pretty darned.” I pulled my cell out of my purse and found the number on speed dial. The number Chuckie had insisted I program in right after Operation Confusion. I let the phone ring three times, then hung up. Then let it ring twice and hung up. Then three, two, four, and then one.

  “What in God’s name are you doing?” Buchanan asked.

  “Secret ring code.”

  “So, Reynolds wants us to contact a lunatic. Great, just great.”

  “One man’s loon is another man’s head of the Extra-Terrestrial Division of the C.I.A., let me just say.” Dialed again. This time, I let it ring.

  ˀ Phone was picked up on the fifth ring. “Hello?”

  “Eddy! How’s it going, big guy?”

  “Kitty? Is that you?”

  “In the conspiratorial flesh, so to speak.”

  “What are you doing, using the secret password?”

  “Chuckie gave it to me.”

  “Why are you using my real name?”

  “Because I can. We’re at DEFCON Worse, well, really, DEFCON Oh My God, and for some reason, Chuckie’s left instructions that when he’s incapacitated, you’re the man for the job.”

  “What’s happened to Chuck?” He sounded suspicious and more than a little scared. Some things never changed.

  “He’s disappeared. Along with my husband. And, no, they’re not gay. I think they’ve been kidnapped. Sort of.”

  “Taken from the solar system?”

  “Not that we can tell.”

  He was quiet. “Is Chuck in danger?”

  “Dude, what part of kidnapped and cannot find didn’t register the first time?”

  “Are you in danger?”

  “Currently in danger of freaking out about the whereabouts of my husband and oldest friend. Otherwise, no. The moment I leave this building? No guess.” Now wasn’t the time to mention the impending invasion. I knew Stryker far too well, and we clearly needed his help.

  “Am I in danger?”

  “If you don’t freaking tell me why Chuckie has you down as the go-to man, you’re in danger of me coming over there and kicking your butt in a serious and nasty fashion. Otherwise? No clue. You still dating that chick with all the piercings?”

  “No, we broke up. Years ago,” he added resentfully.

  “Good choice on your part.”

  “She dumped me.”

  “You never learned how to do the spin, did you?”

  “Is this relevant?”

  “Just wanted to know if I had to warn the people with me not to make eye contact with your, ah, lady friend.”

  “No current lady friend, so they’re fine. What people?”

  “Good friends. Eddy, I feel no closer to knowing why Chuckie wanted you contacted in this kind of emergency. Do you remember how I used to get when you would try to be all myst
erious with me?”

  He coughed. “Yeah. So, what’s the plan, Kitty?”

  “No clue. That’s why I called you. You are listed as the person to call when we have lost Chuckie. Ergo, I am calling. Ball’s in your court.”

  He was quiet again. I let him sit there in silence. Stryker was good at it, ˀbut I’d been trained in how to sell—and one of the top five rules of selling was that whoever talks first after the offer has been made loses. I just gave Bellie some bird treats that White had on him and gave Bruno a good scritchy-scratching between his wings. It took three and a half minutes by my random count, but he finally sighed. “Fine.”

  “Excellent. We coming to you or are you coming to us?”

  “You know I don’t leave the bunker.”

  “Dude, you write published books. You have an agent and so forth. You leave the stupid bunker all the time. Stop acting. Two of the most important men in my life are missing and believed to be in life-threatening danger. Stop making me want to take out my fear and worry on your person.”

  “You do and I won’t tell you how to get here.”

  I snorted. “Dude, seriously. Ask yourself—between the two of us, who does Chuckie both like and trust more?”

  He was quiet again for a long minute, then started cursing up a blue streak. “He told you where I am?”

  Well, not so much, but I knew better than to admit it. “And gave me your number, and the secret code, and all that jazz.” Stryker kept on ranting. “Eddy! Enough with the blah, blah, blah. Focus! You here or us there?”

  “Where is your there, exactly?”

  “Andrews Air Force Base.”

  There was a significant pause. And then an embarrassed clearing of the throat. And then another cough.

  “Eddy, what don’t you want to admit? Surely you know how to get to Andrews.”

  “Oh, yes. I know.”

  I looked at Franklin. He was flipping through another book, smaller than the Encyclopedia Centaurion. He felt me looking at him and looked up. “I don’t find a Stryker Dane.”

  “Try Eddy Simms.”