Alien vs. Alien

by Gini Koch

  No sooner thought than a supersoldier took a major hit and plummeted to the ground, barely missing the building and people. The wreckage only missed the people because the A-Cs had managed to shove everyone away.

  I looked back to LaRue. I had to get it together and keep it together, and that meant I needed to, shock of shocks, run my mouth.

  “Great dresses you and Ronnie are wearing. They really say ‘I’m a wise elder god wannabe.’ And, wow, LaRue, let me just applaud you for managing to find a way to dye your hair all the way out in the far reaches of space. Lesser women would have let their hair go back to its natural color, but not you. Way to focus on the priorities, babe.”

  She smirked. “You still have a mouth on you, I see. It won’t do you any good, but it’s nice to see you sticking with what worked for you when you were a kid.”

  “You mean when we were kids, though you are older than me. By a good few years.” Her eyes narrowed. Good. “I have to give it to you though—Ronnie here is a much more age-appropriate choice than your very late and not-at-all lamented sugar daddy, even if Ronnie is, what, a decade younger than you. He’s a lot better than his father was, too. And let me point out that I’m emphasizing the word ‘was.’ ”

  “My father was a brilliant man whom you murdered in cold blood,” Al Dejahl said. The bird people nodded. Okay, this was part of the party line, apparently.

  “Yeah, is that the story you’re telling? He was the Devil incarnate. We called him an insane megalomaniac who tried to destroy every living person on this world, and killing him was in self- and world-defense. Nice to see you still desperately trying to fill his fugly hooves, though, because if you take a look around, we have the very definitions of murdering innocents in cold blood littered all over the Mall.”

  Al Dejahl shrugged. “In any offensive, pawns are there to be sacrificed.”

  “You really are your father’s son, aren’t you? Of course, I’m kind of shocked you’re mobile and all. The last time we met, Jeff put quite the beat-down on you. Our Pontifex is the only reason you’re alive.”

  “Weak people don’t last long,” Al Dejahl sneered. “We’ll take care of my dear half-brother later.”

  Surely they knew Gower had taken over as Pontifex. Of course, it had happened when Al Dejahl was unconscious, Clarence was imprisoned, and LaRue was scrambling to save the remnants of their operation. So either their intel wasn’t two-way and they didn’t know, or they wanted to get a rise out of me. Either option meant I needed to give them nothing they could work with. Fortunately, years spent with Chuckie had honed my ability to keep a poker face, and my mother had ensured that, despite the evidence, I knew when to shut the hell up.

  “So, you headed off for galactic parts unknown, found a planet that would let you land, said ‘help, help, we’re freedom fighters, please come help us save our people from an oppressive regime,’ and then kept on going, until you found a planet that would both let you land and was interested in helping you brave saviors to free your world. That about right?”

  “What a smart little girl you are,” LaRue sneered. “If only you were going to live longer, there might be hope for you yet. But humans die so much more easily than A-Cs do, and I assure you, you’ll be dying shortly.”

  “But don’t worry,” Al Dejahl chimed in. “We’ll be happy to raise your daughter for you. It’ll ensure she becomes a useful member of our new society.”

  Thanked them silently for the extra boost of rage. But did they not know I was enhanced? Chuckie had done a good job of keeping it quiet, and every bad guy who’d seen me use the new skills was dead, so maybe not.

  “Really? That’s the plan? Stealing other people’s innocent children and making the world over into some goose-stepping, conformist culture? As if that’ll really work.”

  “It works well when you have the right backup,” LaRue said. Probably true. After all, their new friends were big birds. Goose-stepping might seem right and natural to them. And many cultures seemed to place order and conformity higher up on the scale than creativity and freedom.

  Al Dejahl nodded. “None of your husband’s people will be welcome here. I don’t mean him, of course. You’ll both be dead. But his people will be exiled again. Only we’ll be visiting the ‘home world’ after this. And they won’t be welcome there, either, or anywhere in that system.”

  “How Mein Kampf of you. They’re your people, too. Technically, at least.”

  He shrugged. “People are sheep, regardless of what they look like. They crave order. Chaos has descended, and they’ll do anything to make it stop. We’ll only be doing what they want.”

  What was it with the League of Evil Bad Guys? Just once, couldn’t one of them be shooting for anarchy as the final goal? What about peace, love, harmony, and Billy Zane in a role where he didn’t have to chew scenery? Heck, even a simple money grab. But no, to a crazed lunatic they went for the total domination idea. Always the way.

  “A-Cs don’t crave order?” Which ones did he know? The ones I knew liked order just fine. In fact, until I’d shown up, as near as I could tell, they’d had all of two rebels, Terry and Jeff. Not really a large percentage of the available population.

  “They tend to be . . . far too creative for our plans.”

  “You mean smart.”

  “You say tomato.”

  “Actually, I say whatever, but I get your general drift. So you’re just going to kill all the A-Cs here? At least they’re like you, in that sense. Not even going for the ever-popular enslavement plan? You don’t want your own A-C army?”

  Al Dejahl’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned toward me. “I don’t need any of them,” he hissed. “I have many things that are so much better. And much more effectively controlled.”

  Had to figure out if they were the King and Queen of the Big Bluff or if they really had no idea that we’d taken control of the supersoldiers and, hopefully, the androids. Did they think the supersoldiers were taking hits on Marling’s order? Then again, maybe they weren’t talking about those and were referring to the Z’porrah.

  Decided not to push it. Keeping the bad guys monologing was my specialty, and hopefully it’d give us time for reinforcements of some kind to arrive. “Really? You know, Jamie’s an A-C, too.”

  “She’s a hybrid. More powerful. More useful, too.” Al Dejahl grinned at me. “Your husband should have killed me when he had the chance.”

  “Yeah. You’re part of the group that mistakes kindness and charity for weakness.” I looked at the three Z’porrah in front of me. “So, Big Birds, you’re good with this? Our people showed mercy to this man and didn’t kill him. He and his pals exiled themselves as opposed to facing fair trial. And they’ve lied to you about who they are in our world, they’re threatening an infant as well as thousands of innocent people—and you’re still willing to stand with them?”

  The Z’porrah stared at me. “You are rude,” one said.

  “Um, sorry, but you invaded our world and attacked. No introductions, no declarations of war, no polite requests for surrender. Just wham, bam, look at my parasites, ma’am. Where I come from, we call that being extremely rude.”

  “None stand with you,” the second Z’porrah said.

  I looked behind me. Yep, all the people were there. And more. Turned back. “I see a heck of a lot of people standing there.”

  The third Z’porrah shook its head. “Your own

  flock is not what we mean.”

  “You mean that because we don’t have other alien races other than human and A-C here that this means we’re okay to be destroyed?”

  The Z’porrah all rolled their eyes. In unison. As the unison thing went, eye rolling in unison was the most icky and unsettling of any I’d experienced so far. “None stand with you. You have destroyed life on this planet. We see no reason not to destroy you.”

  “Ohhhh, you’re doing this for ecology! Got it. You’re ecoterrorists and we’re your next target. Gotcha. Of course, you destroying us makes you
no better than we are, but I doubt that matters to birdbrains.”

  “You insult us,” the first Z’porrah said.

  “No. You’re ugly and your mother hen dresses you funny is an insult. Calling you what you are isn’t an insult. By the way? We’re sick and tired of you coming by, probing and freaking out our people. Why you have that intricate tunnel system is a little confusing, though, because you aren’t blinking in the sunlight, so you don’t live underground.”

  The second Z’porrah’s eyes narrowed. “You have found the network?”

  I thought about it, what the subterranean tunnels and dead zones had looked like. Could it be their version of a computer network? Wished Chuckie was here, or anyone from Hacker International, because they’d have known right off.

  Decided to go for it. “Yes.”

  The three birds screeched in unison. They sounded like Bruno and the rest of the Peregrines, only at least a hundred times louder.

  “Destroy them!” the third Z’porrah screamed. “The apes must not have network!”

  Whoops.

  Yi

  CHAPTER 97

  I WASN’T SURE WHAT THE Z’PORRAH were expecting when they gave their destruction order. But I had to bet that what happened wasn’t it.

  Jamie woke up, screaming and clawing. She also turned into a Peregrine. Lola, to be exact. Lola clawed and bit at Clarence, who also started screaming and hitting at her.

  Big mistake. The rest of the Peregrine flock appeared, and they were pissed. They attacked Clarence and the others, clawing at their Space Togas and everything underneath. The scene in front of me turned into a lot of claws, beaks, and feathers.

  At the same time, I heard screams from behind me. Risked a look. People were pointing and running in the opposite direction. Looked where they were pointing, which was at the downed supersoldier. The soldier part was destroyed. The super part wasn’t.

  A superbeing staggered out of its shell. It might have been hurt, but it wasn’t dead by a long shot. Claws, talons, other scary projections jutted from what I charitably chose to think of as its body. As near as I could tell, its head was in what on a human would be its stomach. It screamed, and really gave the Z’porrah a run for their screeching money.

  The superbeing did what superbeings did—it destroyed.

  Had to assume it was seriously pissed from being trapped and controlled inside the supersoldier shell—after all, ACE had told me that whatever was inside the supersoldiers was sentient. It swiped viciously at the people near it, most of whom were Field agents. Not that only our people took hits. The ground was now officially red with blood.

  Supersoldiers ran toward us, trampling people who were, yet again, running away in panic. The superbeing was definitely of the tooth, claws, slice and dice variety, and it was slashing through the crowd.

  But not everyone was running away from it. Some people ran toward it. And, shockingly, they weren’t wearing black Armani suits.

  They looked like regular people, but as they swarmed over the superbeing, I realized they were androids, because no human or A-C could take the damage the superbeing was handing out and still hang on and fight back.

  This was great in one way, but we were now in between the proverbial rock and hard place. If a supersoldier was downed by one of the Z’porrah ships, it was going to open up and release its special surprise inside, which would then start destroying all the things it had been protecting previously.

  When we had battles like this in the middle of the desert, nothing really got messed up other than the cacti and poor desert animals. Here, though, there was so much to destroy—it already looked like World War III, and the attack hadn’t been going on for more than thirty minutes, if that.

  Checked on the Peregrines. They were definitely holding their own. The Z’porrah’s Space Togas were in shreds, and LaRue and Al Dejahl didn’t look any better. But I could see what the Z’porrah looked like without their clothes on. And, to me, they no longer lookeÀd like birds. But I did realize what their heads had reminded me of.

  They looked like miniature Tyrannosaurus Rexes. With wings.

  So much seemed explained, but I had no one to share my new insights with. Not a problem, I had plenty of other things to do. Like not let my head hit the pavement when Al Dejahl broke through my Peregrine line and tackled me.

  Tucked my head against him as we rolled down the stairs. Managed to flip him an extra time so that he landed on the bottom when we hit the pavement.

  “What is it with you and beating up girls?” I slammed my fist into his face. He seemed shocked. So I hit him again. And again. Really, really hard. “You are not a nice guy.” Punctuated each word with a punch.

  Sadly, he recovered and flipped us again. Tucked my head again so it didn’t hit, which was good. But he was on top of me, which was bad. He grabbed my throat so I couldn’t move my head, reared back, fist ready to slam into me.

  Just like the last time he’d been attacking me, Al Dejahl wasn’t paying attention to one important piece of information. Jeff was around.

  I heard the roar before I saw his fist hit, so I grabbed the fingers around my throat and pulled them apart. I was fairly sure I felt bones break. Then Jeff’s fist landed and Al Dejahl flew off me.

  “You okay, baby?”

  “Yes, because of you. Go get him, I’ll get LaRue.” Jeff took off; I scrambled to my feet and took a look around.

  Clarence was down. I wasn’t sure if he was dead, but he wasn’t moving. The three Z’porrah were still fighting my Peregrines. LaRue wasn’t there with them, though. Scanned the crowd. Spotted her, running for the side of the Lincoln Memorial. The hell with that—I wasn’t letting her get into the tunnels.

  Amazingly enough, there weren’t a lot of people where LaRue was heading. I didn’t really know why. I’d have thought the trees would have looked like inviting hiding places to someone, but apparently not. Fine, it would make it easier for me, and our side needed any break it could get.

  Took off at hyperspeed. I was one with the rage at this point, power flowing through me, not having to think about running fast, dodging nimbly, hitting hard, seeing far. I caught LaRue within two seconds.

  Slammed her into the ground, hit her face into the dirt a couple of times, flipped her over, and landed on her stomach with both knees.

  “Ooof!” She didn’t make any other noise, possibly because I’d knocked all the wind out of her.

  Pulled out my phone and selected the voice recorder. “Tell me who your contacts on Earth are.” She didn’t speak. I slapped her. “Tell me who your contacts on Earth are.” She glared at me. I leaned closer. “Tell me or I’ll kill you, right now. I’ve killed plenty of evil people by now, more than I think you know about. Killing you won’t make up for even one of the innocents who died here today. But it’ll be a good start. So talk . . . or die.”

  I heard a gun cock and felt something hard at the back of my head. “I don’t think LaRue needs to cooperate with a traitor, Missus ÀusMartini.”

  “Speaking of traitors, Cantu, I was wondering when you’d show up.” I slid my thumb on my phone from voice recorder to main menu. Hit the speed dial button and hoped he was in a position to answer. “So, were you the captain in Paraguay or Paris?”

  “Paraguay, of course. South America is my turf, so to speak. Stand up slowly with your hands up.”

  Held my phone so that he couldn’t see the face. “So, Esteban Cantu

  of the Central Intelligence Agency, how long have you been conspiring with extraterrestrials known as the Z’porrah and known traitors and terrorists Clarence Valentino, LaRue Demorte Gaultier, Ronaldo Al Dejahl, and possibly the remnants and new beginnings of Club Fifty-One to overthrow Earth and take over?”

  Cantu laughed. “I’m here to broker our surrender to a more powerful force. For the good of the country and the world, of course.”

  “Of course. But you didn’t answer my very specific question. I just want to be sure that I’m hating you for
the right reasons.”

  “And not because you hope that you’ll be able to catch me in a confession? I’m disappointed in you.”

  “As much as you’re disappointed in Senator Armstrong?”

  “Some people don’t like to get their hands dirty.”

  “Unlike you.”

  “I do what needs to be done. Carefully.”

  My back was still to Cantu, so I couldn’t tell how close the gun was to my head. Hyperspeed did nothing for you if the bullet hit, and at this range, he wasn’t likely to miss.

  Had a good view of LaRue, though. Between our little scuffle and what the Peregrines had done, she wasn’t looking too good. “Kill her, Esteban,” she said as she struggled to her feet. “And let’s get this moving.” She was in front of me but just too far away for me to grab.

  “I agree. Good-bye, Missus Martini. Unlike all the rest of the people you’ve faced, I have no ego attached to gloating about having bested you. Power and survival are the best revenge.”

  I dropped to the ground as the gunshot rang out.

  Yi

  CHAPTER 98

  HIT THE GROUND, ROLLED, flipped to my feet, and landed in a fighting crouch. Did this all at hyperspeed, which was why I was still amazingly alive to channel Bruce Lee.

  But Cantu wasn’t paying attention to me anymore. He was looking at LaRue, and his expression was shocked.

  I looked at LaRue, too. She had a bullet in her brain. I could tell because there was a hole in her forehead, her eyes were wide with surprise, and she was falling backward in what seemed like slow motion.

  Apparently we were all suƀarprised. I recovered from the shock the quickest. Well, LaRue wasn’t going to recover from anything anymore. But I tackled Cantu as LaRue’s body hit the ground.

  Didn’t go for anything fancy, just broke the wrist that was holding his gun. He screamed. I shoved his gun away out of his reach but where I could still see it. Then I backhanded him.