Alien Education

by Gini Koch

  Considered this. “You know, that’s all great. But I’m too busy to do the job. The person I’m going to suggest is about to be too busy also, but I think that, if you ask her really nicely, she might say yes. Marcia Kramer is far more appropriate to be the President of the PTA than I am. She’s had children in your school for several years, and she put together a swanky fundraising party in a day without anyone’s help. I realize that getting the FLOTUS as the President of the PTA sounds grand, but getting the likely next Secretary of Education to head it up has to be a feather in the school’s cap, too, doesn’t it?”

  Marcia stared at me. “What?”

  Hit the mute button. “Surprise. That’s why you’re being called into the meeting I just stepped out of. We’ve discovered that you put your hopes and dreams by the wayside for a man who didn’t deserve you or the sacrifices you made for his career. So, want the career you might have had already back?”

  She continued to stare at me. Then she burst into tears, flung her arms around my neck, and sobbed. Meanwhile, the people on the phone were excitedly sharing that the Secretary of Education would be more than super as the new PTA Prez and asking if Marcia would be willing.

  “Nathalie’s the one who suggested it. The rest of us just agreed. Pull it together and remember this rule—never, ever let this group see you sweat.”

  Marcia let go, took a couple of deep, gasping breaths, and nodded. Took my phone off mute. “I’ll be happy to consider it,” she said, sounding fairly collected. “However, I do have to say that my children, the President, and the running of this country will come first.”

  “As it should,” Mrs. Paster said. “Madam First Lady, can we convince you to at least remain active in the PTA?”

  “Well, you know, since one of my BFFs is going to be the President of the organization, I’m sure I’ll be happy to help out as I can.” Marcia’s mouth dropped. Closed it gently. “Will that be all? We’re about to make several positional changes, including a Cabinet appointment. Spoiler alert. Also, please don’t share this with the press. You can say you were there after the official announcements go out. And, trust me, I have people watching.”

  “Yes, we’ll be the souls of discretion and thank you for your time and assistance,” Mrs. Paster said. “We look forward to a new era of the PTA.”

  “So do we. Believe me, so do we. And we guarantee that the new era begins now.”

  CHAPTER 90

  HUNG UP AND MARCIA SPOKE. “I’m one of your BFFs?”

  “Babe, look. I’ve forgiven literally everyone I interacted with from the Washington Wife class who’s still alive. You were the last holdout. Having gotten to know you and seen what your stepson was willing to give up when he chose you over his father, I think it’s safe to say that you’re going to fit in with our new world order. So, yeah, welcome to the team and welcome to no longer having to hide that you’re smart.”

  She heaved a huge sigh. “Oh, God, that will feel so . . . good.”

  “Yeah, it will. Get all the crying done now, though—there are a lot of men in that room and you know how us crying makes them feel all uncomfortable and crap.”

  She laughed and we headed for the nearest bathroom. Marcia cleaned herself up, then we headed back to the OSR. Was glad I’d given her the heads-up, because she managed to be pretty professional and only got teary a couple of times. Hey, it had been a hard month for her.

  Jeff had taken care of the Ambassador stuff—Howie was heading to Bahrain, which was a cushy post thanks to our relationship with King Raheem—and they were onto other things I was only mildly interested in when I got a text. Not from the Shadow or the Tinkerer, but from Siler.

  Excused myself and left the room again, this time going to the Rose Garden, where no one happened to be. Well, no one other than Siler. He was sniffing roses when I got there. “What’s up?”

  He shot me a smile, then went back to the roses. “I figured we should talk. About music.”

  “Can you? I mean that seriously. The only two people I know for sure who know—the three of us can barely discuss it with each other, let alone others.”

  “I can, as long as we’re talking about it as music.”

  “So, when were you able to, um, learn to DJ?”

  “Always. Someone was always there.”

  “That’s ACE. I mean, most likely. A voice guiding you?”

  “Yes.”

  “ACE helped all the supertalented A-Cs. I guess it never occurred to me to ask him if you were his first. And he never mentioned you.”

  “He . . . understands why I needed to hide. He knows I’m not hiding anymore. At least, not from you.” Siler chuckled. “You’re his favorite. He was so pleased when I started working with you. I just felt this massive . . . relief. It’s not the only reason why I’ll always be with you and on your side, but it’s a big one.”

  “Good to know. I’ll always be on your side and with you, too. But . . .”

  “But, yes, I know that ACE is not the same . . . entity as the DJ. I noticed him after I joined up with you.”

  “How so?”

  “You mean besides the Poofs, that you’ve dealt with superconsciousnesses from across the galaxy, and so forth?”

  “Yeah.” So he’d noted that the Poofs were extra-special. Well, he did have three of them, these days, since he’d inherited the Dingo’s and Surly Vic’s. Assassins had to be observant, after all, and Siler had that whole invisibility thing going.

  He stopped looking at the roses and turned to me with a grin. “There isn’t any actual Operations Team. Everyone seems to think there is, but there isn’t. You were yanked into another universe, dragged off to another planet, and it just occurred to me that simply because we’re told something is so, doesn’t mean that it is.”

  “There are other things, too.”

  “Like the fact that when you’re in a danger situation you’re always listening to music via your phone or your iPod, and when you’re not able to do that, somehow every song is something that can spark you into figuring out what’s going on? That music shows up in places it shouldn’t, but always when you need it?”

  “Um yeah, like that.”

  “And the secret entrance in the desert outside of Dulce which should take you to the second floor but actually takes you to the fifteenth? Yeah, noticed that, too, the first time Buchanan trusted me enough to show me all of Dulce’s weaknesses.”

  “Does Malcolm know, too?”

  He shook his head. “He’s human. They’re easier to fool. And I think the DJ has more . . . trouble hiding from me than most.”

  “Because of the things Trevor says he knows about you?”

  “Yeah. That’s my guess.”

  “Well, don’t sell Malcolm short. I mean, I’m human and I figured it out. Well, not right away, but eventually.”

  “You’re special, Kitty. I know you don’t really see it, not like others do. But you’re special. It’s why you’ve saved my people and this world so many times.”

  “So you’re calling the A-Cs yours now? Fully?”

  “Yeah.” He laughed again. “They’ve protected me, they’ve protected Lizzie. There’s no people she’ll be safer with than you and Jeff. She was introduced at the fundraiser by the Valentino kids as a second cousin twice removed.”

  “I have no idea how all that stuff works, and it’s been explained to me more than once.”

  “Yeah, and the intricacies don’t matter. It’s the acceptance. She’s in. She’s part of your family, part of the A-C community. She’s taken care of now.”

  “She still needs you. You’re her father and have been for years now. Quick Girl doesn’t want Mister Dash to go away.”

  “Good. Because it’s because of Quick Girl and Megalomaniac Girl that I’m staying. Mister Dash has found where he belongs.”

  Didn’t think about it, just h
ugged him. He hugged me back. “I’m really glad I didn’t let Prince eat you. Or let you bleed out.”

  He laughed. “I’m really glad your husband isn’t seeing this.”

  “He’s feeling it, I’m sure. Besides, he hasn’t had a good jealousy rampage in forever.” We ended our hug and Siler nodded his head toward the path around the roses. We wandered. “You know, I never get to spend time in this garden. This could be the first relaxed minute I’ve had in it.”

  “Relaxation is good. But vigilance is better.”

  “You think another attack is coming?”

  “Honestly? Yes. But maybe not for a while.”

  “How so? They’ve been nonstop for what seems like months.”

  “True. And you’ve wiped out everyone who’s been coming at you. The ones left—the Shadow and the Tinkerer—they’re smarter, more willing to wait and play the quiet game.”

  “Cliff played the long game.”

  “Cliff was insane. I don’t think either the Shadow or the Tinkerer are. I’ll be watching Marcia Kramer—she could be the Shadow.”

  Told him what I’d learned from Nathalie and Vance. “So it doesn’t seem like she could be the Shadow or even really knows who the Shadow is.”

  “Maybe she’s not. Maybe they’re all in it together. Maybe Elaine Armstrong is the Shadow.”

  “Um, I can’t live my life by suspecting everyone of being out to get us.”

  “I know. But I can. I’ve spent my entire existence that way. So let me, and Wruck, and Buchanan all handle that. We’re not trusting at all, so you get to be.”

  “Chuckie doesn’t trust anyone, either.”

  “Reynolds trusts far more people than he wants to admit. Far more than the three of us do, possibly combined.”

  “Really?”

  “We all trust you. Buchanan trusts your mother. I trust Lizzie. Wruck trusts, well, really only you. We all trust each other. And that’s it. Period. End of trust story. Anyone else we all trusted fully is dead and gone.”

  “Wow. Team Tough Guys keepin’ it suspicious?”

  Siler laughed. “Exactly. So, you can relax, because we’ll be doing the digging and the hunting.”

  “The Hunt for Red Shadow?”

  “Something like that, yeah.”

  “Works for me.”

  We finished our stroll and Siler escorted me back inside. Then he went back to the Embassy to have a meeting with Christopher and Doreen about staffing and room assignments.

  I headed back to the OSR, but was intercepted by Jeff. “We’re on a lunch break and I figured, why not actually go out for lunch with my wife?” He handed me my purse. “You left this in the conference room.”

  “Sounds good on lunch, and thanks on my purse, I guess I didn’t expect an attack for the first time in weeks. Who else is coming with?”

  “No one. Not any of our friends, family, colleagues, or security. Not even the kids.”

  “Wow, where are we going? Our bedroom?”

  Jeff’s eyes smoldered and he got the Jungle Cat About To Eat Me look on his face. “After we eat, yes.” He pulled me to him and kissed me. I was ready to skip lunch by the time we were done.

  “Seriously,” I asked as he ended our kiss. “Where are we going? Do I have to dress up?” I was in jeans, an Aerosmith shirt, and Converse. In other words, I was comfy.

  He grinned. “Hell no. We’re going to your favorite chicken and waffles place in Pueblo Caliente. It’s breakfast time there, but they serve the same things for lunch, and we haven’t been there in a really long time. And yes, you can bring back as much takeout as you want and yes, we can have it with the kids for dinner, regardless of whatever Chef’s planned.”

  My stomach growled happily. “You really are the most romantic man in the world, aren’t you?”

  “I have to live up to my wife, baby.” Then he put his arm around my shoulders and I put mine around his waist and we headed off to a delicious little hole-in-the-wall restaurant like normal people.

  It’s the little things you cherish, after all.

  Read on for a sneak preview of

  the sixteenth novel in the Alien series

  from Gini Koch:

  ALIENS ABROAD

  “HELP ME.”

  “Huh?” I’d been having a really great dream, where my husband and I were in Cabo San Lucas without our kids, our family or friends, anyone political, any press, any aliens from any planet, or any paparazzi. We were having sex on the beach, and it was great, and no one was bothering us. At least until someone asked for help.

  “Help me. I’m an alien and need your assistance.”

  Well, that left a wide-open field. My husband was an alien—an A-C from Alpha Four in the Alpha Centaurion system. His entire huge extended family had been exiled to Earth before Jeff was born and they’d been here for decades. All of them were American citizens, though A-Cs were all over the world. But the voice didn’t sound like any of them.

  Recent events had brought more aliens to Earth, though. We had representatives from every inhabited world in the Alpha Centauri system—and there were a lot of those—here, as well as residents from other solar systems both nearby, galactically speaking, or as far away as the Galactic Core.

  They, too, were scattered all over Earth and the Solaris system—alien relocation for immigrating aliens having been going smoothly, as had terraforming of some of the planets and various-races-forming of the others—because we had all those extra planets and moons we weren’t using and most of these aliens were refugees from some really horrible galactic wars. So Earth was no longer a lonely inhabited planet of one with a single race of aliens living on it in secret, but part of a bustling, expanding planetary system with many different types of aliens hanging out. And more coming by to visit or apply to move in every day. Though not, normally, via my dreams. And the voice didn’t sound like any of them, either.

  That all of this New Age of Intergalactic Harmony stuff had happened in less than a year and a half since Operation Fundraiser had ended in a truly dramatic Zamboni drag race, so to speak, had much more to do with all the aliens from various solar systems helping out than that Earth had suddenly leapt into the far Star Trek future on our own. We were still number one with a bullet when it came to being nasty and warlike, but we were definitely reaping the benefits of having made some swell new friends. I just wasn’t in the dream mood to make another new one.

  “I really can’t help you. We have an office of Intergalactic Immigration you might want to apply to. I’m sure they’ll be as excited to talk to you in their dreams as I am.”

  “No. I’m an alien to you but like you.”

  Nice, but the speaker wasn’t saying anything exciting because I’d discovered that people—be they the best-looking humanoids around who happened to have two hearts, super-strength, and hyperspeed, or be they giant humanoid slugs or honeybees, or be they ethereal cloud-like manta rays or gigantic Cthulhu Monsters from Space, or be they anything and everything in between—were basically people, no matter where they were from, what they looked like, what planet they called home, or who or what they considered God.

  “I doubt it. And I don’t care.” My dream was getting hazy. Did my best to concentrate on Jeff and the beach and the sex.

  “Help me. You’re my only hope.” The voice sounded female, maybe, and alien, most likely. Most humans couldn’t get that kind of reverberation going without the use of electronic equipment. And, just like the voice, the reverberation wasn’t familiar so, again, not an alien race I’d already met, at least, unlikely. My dreams, they were really the best.

  “Um, I wasn’t really trying to add Princess Leia or Obi-Wan Kenobi into this dream. If that’s okay and all that. Especially not Old Obi-Wan. Young Obi-Wan, yeah, maybe.”

  I could, quite frankly, find it in my libido to add Ewan McGregor into many things.
Then again, Jeff was the strongest empath in, most likely, the galaxy—because A-Cs also had a variety of psychic talents that showed up pretty often—and he was also easily the most jealous man in it, too, under the right circumstances. Me fantasizing about Ewan McGregor was likely to spark some jealousy, especially since I’d seen The Pillow Book. Twice. And the second time was not for the story.

  Not that Jeff had anything to worry about. He was the classic—tall, with dark brown wavy hair, dreamy light brown eyes, built like a brick house, and definitely the handsomest man in the universe. And that wasn’t me being biased. Well, maybe biased, but only a little. The A-Cs were, to human eyes, the most beautiful things around. They came in all shapes, sizes, colors, and builds, just like humans did, as long as you included “hardbody” in their definition.

  Humans lucked out, though. In addition to the fact that A-Cs and humans could and did create healthy hybrid offspring—with the external favoring the human parent and the internal favoring the A-C—the A-Cs thought humans were great. Well, most of them thought that.

  The female A-Cs, whom I called the Dazzlers, at least to myself, were sapiosexual, didn’t care what someone looked like, and they felt that humans had more brains and brain capacity than their own people did. I didn’t necessarily agree with this theory, though I got where it came from—I’d never met a dumb Dazzler because even those considered idiots by their peers were genius level for humans, but I had hit a couple of not-so-bright male A-Cs, though they were few and far between.

  The male A-Cs just liked people who made them feel smarter than the female A-Cs did, meaning humans were really scoring the excellent mating opportunities. And I wasn’t going to argue with the situation either, since, by now, we had a lot of really happy humans married to equally happy A-Cs and I was all for couples’ harmony. Particularly my own.