by Gini Koch
“So, since they both passed on that offer, why would they care about whatever Jeff’s doing now?”
“I have no idea,” White admitted.
Martini slammed his phone closed and turned around. “I do. And it sucks.”
CHAPTER 5
MARTINI RAN HIS HAND THROUGH HIS HAIR and leaned against the wall. “My father figures there’s some kind of issue with succession back on the home world.”
“How so?” White asked. “There were plenty of other children and grandchildren.”
“When you left. Maybe not now.” Martini managed a weak grin in my direction. “You wouldn’t like the succession rules.”
“Male lines, male children only, right?”
“Right.”
“Similar to Earth, Jeff.”
“Only, on Earth, if there is no male child, they’ll allow a female to rule.”
“Not so on the old home world?” I asked White.
“Not so far as we know.”
“And since Christopher’s male, there’s a chance he could be involved in the succession issues.” Martini was so upset he could barely talk. “So they’re coming here. But it’s not to attend the wedding, most likely. At least, that’s not the main goal.”
I got a funny feeling. “What are they coming for, then, Jeff?”
He looked straight at me, and I could tell how much he hated what he had to say to me. “To pass judgment on whether or not you’re appropriate royal marriage material.”
The room went quiet. Then Reader laughed. “So what? You’re not going back there, what do you care what they think of Kitty?”
I looked at the A-Cs and thought about the PPB net. “They wanted you kept here, to the point they put up the barrier. We have no idea of how closely they’re monitoring us. Could be minor, or we could be scrutinized under an A-C microscope daily; again, we don’t know. So that means we don’t know if they can or can’t force Jeff, or Christopher, to do whatever they want.”
Martini nodded. “That’s what my father’s afraid of.”
Chuckie cleared his throat. “Okay, then that makes it official. I’m in charge of Centaurion Division until further notice. Alpha Team will be reporting directly to me, and all activities will have to be approved by me before being put into action.”
A-Cs normally went very quiet when they were thinking. But when they were upset . . . not so much. The room erupted. Everyone was shouting, snarling, arguing. Chuckie ignored it. He leaned over to me. “You want to get them under control? Before I lock them up?”
I looked at Martini and caught his eye. He stopped in midargument with White. I raised my eyebrow. “SHUT UP!” Ah, the Martini bellow—perfect for stopping hysterics, starting avalanches, and causing windows within a mile radius to rattle.
“Thanks,” Chuckie said. “Let me make this clear. You didn’t have a choice in the first place. As the C.I.A. feared, we have hostile visitors from space coming. As the C.I.A. is relieved to learn, our own aliens did not intentionally call them over for a visit. As I see I will have to explain, the best thing in the world for Centaurion Division right now is for all of you lovely people who are unable to lie to be able to admit, truthfully, that you are not the ones giving the orders.”
He and Martini were having a staring contest. They both looked angry, and they both looked as if they weren’t going to back down for hours, if ever.
“Jeff, he’s right.”
Martini didn’t blink or look away from Chuckie. “How so?”
“You can’t lie. We’re about to be invaded, and you, Christopher, Richard, probably Paul, all your families, are all going to be put into compromising positions. We don’t know if this is a legitimate visit or an excuse for invasion. And if you’re put into a position where someone from the home world gives you an order they expect you to take to the rest of the A-C population, the only thing you may be able to use to refuse is the fact that you don’t make the final decisions.”
Chuckie was also still staring Martini down, and he shrugged. “She’s right. You don’t have to like it. But by the original agreements your people signed when the United States government agreed to house you here as displaced refugees, you have to agree, or you have to vacate.”
“We’re not in a state of emergency.”
Chuckie barked a laugh. “Like hell. You said it earlier and even if you hadn’t, it’s obvious. Best case scenario is they come and approve Kitty, and we have to do a massive cover-up. That would make our lives hell, and that would be the easy scenario. But let’s be honest—no one thinks that’s what’s going to happen, least of all you.”
Martini deflated a bit. “Fine. However, once the state of emergency abates, sovereignty reverts back to the Pontifex.”
“Yes.”
“Define, clearly, when the C.I.A. will consider the state of emergency abated.” I wasn’t C.I.A., but I’d been a marketing manager before I’d joined Centaurion, and I knew the dangers of doublespeak better than most.
Chuckie looked away from Martini and grinned at me. “Once all the hostile aliens have left or been subdued.”
“I want it in writing, and I’ll be going over it for loopholes.”
He laughed. “Not a problem.” He looked back at Martini. “Okay?”
“No, but we’ll deal with it. Officially, Centaurion unwillingly concedes the C.I.A.’s limited authority during a time of interworld crisis.”
“And unofficially?” Chuckie sounded supportive, not challenging.
Martini closed his eyes. “Unofficially,” he opened his eyes, “help us. Please.”
Chuckie nodded and stood up. “Unofficially, I may want to marry her, but she wants to marry you. So, yeah, let’s get that taken care of.” He walked over to where Martini was standing. Christopher joined them.
It was always interesting to me to do a physical comparison. Martini was big, well over six feet, broad-shouldered, built like a brick house, rippling muscles without being overdone like a bodybuilder. Of course, I couldn’t see all that right now, but I had his naked body happily memorized. His hair was dark and wavy and his eyes were light brown.
Christopher was a head shorter, smaller all the way around, the lean and wiry kind. Straight, lighter brown hair and green eyes. As Chuckie had mentioned at our high school reunion, Christopher was actually more the type I’d always gone for in school.
Chuckie was like a blend of the two of them. Tall like Martini, but more along Christopher’s build, sinewy and smooth. He moved casually but had the reflexes to make you think he could be part A-C. Dirty blond hair, which would have a bit of a wave in it if he’d let it grow long, and blue eyes.
All of them were good-looking, but though Chuckie was handsome by human standards, only Reader and a couple of other human agents had a shot of passing as an A-C in the looks department, after all.
Normally I enjoyed looking at any of them, Martini in particular. But tonight I got a bad feeling, seeing them standing there together. Martini caught it and looked at me. “What’s wrong?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. But I think we’d better be prepared for the worst. Whatever that’s going to end up being.”
Before we’d met ACE, Martini had implanted a portion of Christopher’s mother’s consciousness into me. It was only a trace, but I’d liked having it there, liked being able to connect to Terry in times of trouble. ACE had removed it, telling me it was better this way. That bit of Terry was now a part of ACE—but I never got to connect with it any more. I wanted to now, more than ever.
If Terry had still been inside my mind, I’d assume the nameless dread I was feeling was coming from her. Since that couldn’t be, I had to assume what Martini called my feminine intuition was picking up something. Either that or I just needed a nap.
Reader got up and went over to the other three. “Look, how do you want us to get things rolling? Sitting around isn’t getting the troops prepared.”
Same size as Christopher, pretty much. Most gorgeous huma
n I’d ever laid eyes on in the flesh. Our joke was that if he were straight, we’d run off, get married, and forget there were aliens on the Earth.
It occurred to me that I was looking at four men who’d achieved the top levels early in life. Martini was the strongest empath on Earth, and Christopher was the best imageer; Chuckie was the smartest guy in any room, and Reader had been the top international male model for years. There was a lot of drive and talent there, and the rest of us weren’t slouches, either. I relaxed, feeling confident we’d be able to handle whatever was coming.
The dread hit me, harder. I looked over at Paul. He looked sort of glazed. I tried thinking in my mind, the way I had with ACE in the past. ACE, are you there?
Yes, Kitty, ACE is here.
What’s wrong?
Terry wishes ACE to warn Kitty. His mental voice sounded upset. ACE’s prime directive was to protect, but he also knew doing everything for us would destroy us and turn him into a despot. Which meant I had to help him settle this in his consciousness, or he was going to short out and take Paul with him.
ACE, are the A-Cs coming more powerful than you are?
ACE is . . . not sure.
They created you, or at least okayed your creation, didn’t they?
Terry confirms this as so.
Then, that means maybe they are more powerful than you. Or will know weaknesses you have that we don’t know about.
I could feel ACE considering this. That would mean it would be . . . correct . . . for ACE to protect . . . ACE?
Yes, I think so. We should see what’s coming, but I think we all need to be prepared. They’re far more powerful than any of us on Earth.
Yes. Terry says Kitty must be prepared. The test is not for Jeff, it is for Kitty. And Terry knows the royal family will want Kitty to fail.
Great. Okay, thanks, ACE. I’ll do my best. I didn’t want to push ACE for more. It was better to save that for when we might really need it.
ACE knows Kitty will be able to triumph. Kitty thinks right. I saw Paul’s expression shift, and he shuddered a bit.
Martini came over to me. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
“For now, yeah.” The dread had subsided, and I was suddenly exhausted. “Jeff, I want to go to the Lair, okay?”
“Okay. Right now?”
“Yeah. Chuckie’s in charge; let him deal with this.” I picked up the Unity Necklace. The dread came back along with a sharp pain. “OUCH!” I dropped it back on the table. Dread disappeared, pain stuck around. Well, one out of two wasn’t bad.
“What?” Martini asked as everyone else spun toward me.
“The stone . . . it burned me.” I showed him my palm. I had a burn mark in the rounded shape of the jewel.
Lorraine came over and pulled a tube out of the small med case she carried with her at all times now. She put something on the burn, and the pain stopped.
“How did it get hot?” Christopher asked.
Michael leaned forward and put his hand on it. “It’s cool to the touch.”
I put my hand toward it again. “I can feel the heat from here.” My hand was a good six inches away. I left it there as the others put their hands on the necklace. It was cool for everyone else, including Martini.
“What in hell is going on?” Martini asked finally.
“I don’t think whoever’s coming likes me.”
CHAPTER 6
WE WERE BACK AT THE LAIR. It was on the fifteenth floor of the Dulce Science Center, and no one went there but Martini and me. Other than what I now called the A-C Elves. I had no idea if there really were elves about, but someone or something did the housekeeping, ensured that the right clothes were there for you, no matter when you showed up or what room you showed up in, and snatched your dirty laundry in the night. I assumed the same elves provided the drinks that appeared in the variety I wanted, anywhere, any time, as long as it was in a fridge of some kind. As of yet, Martini hadn’t shared how this was done. I got the impression he enjoyed the fact I really wanted to know.
I would have loved something stronger than Cherry Coke, but A-Cs were deadly allergic to alcohol, and the last thing I wanted to do was either kill Martini because there was too much alcohol residue in my mouth or have him unable to kiss me.
My hand didn’t hurt much any more, but I was staring at it. I knew better than to tell Martini that his aunt’s consciousness was in ACE. Neither he nor Christopher were really over the trauma of losing her, and that had happened almost twenty-one years ago.
I was cuddled in Martini’s lap, and we had the TV on, watching Love Boat reruns. He loved all the cheesy old shows, and I just wanted to have something on I could pretend to pay attention to. This was the most human room of any A-C location I’d ever seen, and right now it was overwhelmingly comforting.
“Baby, it’ll be okay.” He’d said this about a hundred times. I still didn’t believe it, or believe that he believed it.
“Why did you tell Chuckie he was more of a problem than Christopher?”
“Because he’s a viable alternative who’s already proposed to you, hasn’t married anyone else in the meantime, and isn’t in our bloodline,” Martini growled. “And since he’s ostensibly my superior, it makes him a better catch for you, at least the way the home world hierarchy apparently thinks. According to my father, that actually makes it easier for the royal family to insist that you can’t marry me. I won’t be leaving you at the altar—I’ll merely step aside and let a more appropriate man have you.”
How Emily Post of them. I had no comment to this that wasn’t going to start us off into some kind of fight over things we weren’t going to allow to happen. Besides, I was more stuck on something else. “Royal family?”
“I didn’t know!”
“I know.” I had a thought. “I wonder if Barbara knows.”
“I’m sure she does.”
“No wonder she wanted Doreen to marry you.”
“Like Doreen would enjoy having her hand burned any more than you would?”
I managed to laugh. “No, but I’m sure Barbara wasn’t thinking about anything other than making a great match for her daughter.”
He stroked the back of my neck. “You think I’m a good catch?” I could hear the fear lurking there, just hidden beneath the surface.
I leaned my head against his. “Yes, Jeff. And not because you’re some royal scion or prodigal son or whatever. And not because you’re the head of Centaurion Field and pretty much run everything, either.”
“Why then?”
I nuzzled his ear. “Because you’re gorgeous, you’re smart, you’re funny, you’re built, and you’re a god in bed. And you’re mine.”
He turned and kissed me. It was deep and strong, and his mouth controlled mine just like always. I felt worry slip away. I didn’t care about anything when he was kissing me other than hoping it wouldn’t stop and that we’d move to making love as fast as possible.
On cue my phone rang. I sighed and dug through my purse to find it. “Hi, Mom, you’re up early.”
“Your only child being the target for unfriendly alien attacks normally warrants rising before dawn.” My mother’s sarcasm knob went well past eleven, and it was on high already.
“How’d you know?”
“Charles called me.” I picked up the unstated comment that Mom wasn’t happy that Chuckie had called instead of me.
“I was waiting for it to be a decent hour,” I lied quickly.
Mom sighed. “Kitten, this isn’t something that we can afford to wait on. You can’t treat an alien invasion the way you’re treating your wedding.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
She heaved an even bigger sigh. “Everything’s taking you and Jeff forever. At this point, I counsel running off to Vegas.”
“I wouldn’t have thought you’d approve of that.”
“Would have approved when Charles suggested it all those years ago, would approve at this moment because it’s getting ridiculous
.” Chuckie had actually proposed to me twice in my life. I’d just been far too dense to realize it the first time. My density was becoming legendary. The worst part was that I still couldn’t catch when I was being dense, and my nearest and dearest still insisted on not sharing until it was far too late. “You haven’t even confirmed your bridesmaids yet.”
“Um, I’m working on it.” I was. I wanted Amy and Sheila, my best girlfriends from high school, and Caroline, my sorority roommate, and Lorraine and Claudia. The issues were that three of them didn’t know I was marrying an alien, and I had no idea who should be the maid of honor. So I’d stalled the lying and that uncomfortable decision off by having them all sort of on hold. Pathetic, but a great example of my wedding planning skills so far. Growing up I’d spent a lot more time reading Ms. magazine than Modern Bride.
“Work faster.”
“Noted. Mom, our wedding plans aren’t really the issue of the hour. Okay, I mean, they are, but we have bigger issues.”
“Like Jeff being a member of the royal family? Which means we have an entire contingent of exiled royalty here, which bloodline you happen to be marrying into. Your father’s thrilled, by the way.”
I managed not to share that, so far as I could tell, he was the only one. “Other issues.” I was reaching, but I wanted off the wedding and royal family conversation train.
“Like Reynolds being in charge,” Martini muttered.
I leaped on that one. “Yeah, Mom, why did you put Chuckie in charge of Centaurion?”
She barked a laugh. “Because I want the only C.I.A. big shot I can trust in charge. It helps that he’s brilliant, understands you intimately, and also understands the A-Cs perfectly.”
I wondered if Martini could pick up emotions through the phone, and I also wondered what my mother’s were at this time. My parents loved Martini and felt he was a good match for me. But Mom had shoved me at Christopher and apparently was still holding a torch for the idea of me and Chuckie as a couple. It wasn’t really like her to keep on once my decision had been firmly made. I got the impression Mom really wanted me to be positive I wanted to marry Martini because she was worried about more than whether I’d really picked the guy who was right for the long haul.
