by M. E. Castle
“But what we do know, we’re going to go tell the police,” Mrs. Bas said. She smiled tensely at Fisher and Alex. “We’ll see you boys as soon as we’re done.”
There was still a little haze cloud in the sky where the explosion had been. After a moment, Fisher realized there were little burning pieces of the ship’s hull floating down to the ground.
“If they’d used more drones,” Alex said, “the force of the blast could have been enormous. As in, wiping out Palo Alto enormous.”
“So far, they’ve been exploding often enough to keep their numbers the same,” Fisher said. “But if they go through a calm period for a while and start eating faster, they’ll generate more and more drones. They could have that kind of power before too long.”
Fisher saw the image in his head. The school flat, everyone he knew buried in rubble. They’d nearly brought the Gemini under control, only to meet these pirates. A situation that had been on the verge of improving now looked like it was going to get far worse. Fisher could still feel that huge ship looming over his head. Where would it appear next? And what could any of them do?
“I was afraid the Gemini were about to start a war with us,” said Fisher. “I didn’t think they were already in one. With space pirates.”
“But what do the space pirates want from the Gemini?” asked Amanda.
“The Gemini have something that belongs to them,” said Alex. “Clearly, something very important. And obviously the Gemini aren’t exactly itching to give it back.”
Veronica blew out a long breath. “The question is, do we pick a side, or do we risk turning both sets of angry aliens against us?”
There is no more decisive a statement of superiority over another species than to consider them your breakfast.
—Three, Cell Wall Writings
In all of human history there had been not a single recorded instance of contact with an extraterrestrial species—and now Palo Alto had met two alien species in a matter of days. In the blink of an eye, the Gemini problem had blown up into the problem of a major potential interstellar war. And now everyone knew what the Gemini were, and what they were really capable of. Without even using any technology, they had damaged a skyscraper-sized space battleship. An explosion hundreds of feet away had almost knocked everyone at Wompalog flat on their backs.
As various traumatized kids and teachers were shepherded into ambulances for routine checkups—or merely made a beeline for their waiting cars—Fisher approached Anna and Bee, who were standing with the other Gemini in the parking lot, examining their nails as though nothing had happened. The closer he got to them, the harder his heart raced—still, he forced himself to get going, planting himself squarely in front of Anna.
“The pirates spoke of an item you stole from them,” he said, trying to keep the tremor from his voice. “Do you know what they meant?”
“They are pirates,” Anna replied, shrugging. “In their view, whatever they want belongs to them. Clearly, they have decided they want something of ours. We don’t know what.”
“Fisher!” Mrs. Bas jogged across the parking lot, drawing Fisher back from Anna as if worried the drone would spontaneously combust in his face. Which wasn’t exactly an unfounded worry. “It’s, er, time to go home. For all of us.” She gestured pointedly to the Gemini’s specially outfitted bus, which had just rumbled up to the parking lot. Fortunately, the Gemini didn’t resist. They turned and, without another word, filed onto the bus.
Fisher, Alex, Veronica, and Amanda rode back in near silence to the Bas house with Fisher’s parents, tailing the gleaming bus as it dodged through side streets. Traffic near the school had ground to a halt as news crews and police vehicles continued to swarm the spot.
Fisher crossed his arms tightly. He knew that if he put his hands somewhere, they’d start twitching and rattling like he was playing an invisible floating piano.
“Do you think it could be the spaceship that they want?” Veronica spoke up suddenly. “We know the Gemini stole it from someone.”
Mrs. Bas sighed and shook her head. “We don’t think so,” she said. “The spaceship’s interior doesn’t look as though it could accommodate the pirates’ bodies. Whatever they’re after, it isn’t that.” She cleared her throat and exchanged a glance with Mr. Bas. “The good news is we have the best and the brightest minds working on the problem.”
If the best included Dr. X, Fisher thought darkly, they were in deep trouble.
But only a few minutes later, when Fisher walked through his front door, he saw what his mother meant. Standing in the living room, clearly waiting for them, was a tall man in a dark suit.
“Agent Mason!” Alex cried as they walked into the room. Fisher’s hopes of dealing with the extraterrestrial threats that kept appearing out of nowhere lifted considerably.
“Hello, ladies, gentlemen,” Mason said, smiling. “Seems like you’ve had a busy week.”
“Finally,” asked Alex, detaching Paul from his ankles and dropping onto the couch. Amanda joined him, leaning into his shoulder. Fisher gave the cheerful FP a scratch behind his ears, careful not to disturb the still tender one. “We could have used assistance before the Gemini tried to turn the Thanksgiving parade into a fireworks show.”
“I’ve been pretty busy myself,” Mason said. “You should see what a few decades of nuclear testing can do to a diamondback population. But that’s taken care of now. Like my new kicks?” He pointed down at the brand-new pair of snakeskin boots he was wearing. They didn’t exactly match the suit, but they certainly made a statement. And that statement was, If you are making a list of people to mess with, you might want to leave this man’s name off it.
“And while I was busy in the desert, my colleagues have been busy tracking the new ship,” said Agent Mason. “Astronomers detected it coming into the solar system a few days ago. We think the pirates were tracking the Gemini. The M3 beacon helped the Gemini to find us … and the pirates to find them. The pirates are keeping very close tabs on the Gemini. They haven’t even left the West Coast.”
“Where’s the pirate ship now?” Fisher asked. He felt a fresh shot of adrenaline slip into his bloodstream.
“Hovering over the Pacific, close enough to San Francisco to be visible to the naked eye from Fisherman’s Wharf,” Agent Mason said, his expression grim. “We’ve got jets patrolling the Bay twenty-four-seven, but there’s no way of knowing how much damage they could do even if we deployed them. The ship hasn’t answered any attempts at contact. What we need to do is get someone on that ship. Unfortunately, since it’s floating in midair, it’s impossible to sneak up to undetected. We’d have to trick them into letting someone aboard.”
Fisher considered the problem for a moment. If the pirates weren’t responding to radio contact, there wasn’t much reason to think that they’d want to talk to a human. Of course, it wasn’t the humans they were here for in the first place…
Agent Mason was staring at Fisher, like an expectant teacher waiting for a particular result. It was obvious that he already had a solution to propose.
“The pirates want to deal with the Gemini,” Alex said slowly, puzzling it out. He looked up, smiling. “So why don’t we give them Gemini? And in their preferred human form … twins.” He put a hand on Fisher’s shoulder.
“You’re not seriously …” Veronica began, wide-eyed.
“He is seriously,” Amanda said, sighing. “Trust me. And, much as I hate to say it, I can’t really think of a better idea.”
Fisher opened his mouth but all that emerged was a squeak. Going in disguise as one alien species to negotiate with another alien species? It was crazy. It was completely crazy. That said … it might just be the best idea they had.
In fact, it might be the only idea they had.
“That is exactly what I had in mind,” Mason said with a proud smile.
“What??” said both Bas parents in unison.
“Just think for a moment,” Mason said, holding up a hand. “Fisher
and Alex have experience working together inside enemy-controlled facilities. They have more experience at it than most FBI agents, in fact. They’ve proven themselves capable of great ingenuity in high-stress situations. And they’ve had more face-to-face contact with the Gemini than anybody. They know how they act and speak.”
Fisher’s mom and dad looked at one another worriedly. Veronica looked at Fisher, clearly hoping to hear a better idea come out of his mouth. Fisher wished he had one for her. Amanda’s face was set with solemn determination.
“You may be right,” Mrs. Bas said hesitantly. “If you really think it’s the best way, and if you two are really up for it … maybe. Just let us think a little.”
Mason nodded.
“Of course.” The spy turned back to Fisher and Alex. “But in the meantime … you boys wouldn’t happen to know your wig size, would you?”
DIPLOMACY: THE ART OF SAYING WORDS YOU DON’T MEAN TO PEOPLE YOU DON’T LIKE, TO GET THINGS YOU DON’T DESERVE.
—SYD MASON, FBI MEMO
“Are you sure we have to do this?” Fisher said, scratching his head through the luxurious blond tresses of the wig that Agent Mason’s FBI disguise artist had clipped to his real hair. The young man was busily applying eyeliner and rouge to Alex’s face. “The Gemini can look like anything. Why can’t we just go as ourselves?”
After a lifetime of being teased, harassed, and generally tormented, Fisher really wasn’t enjoying the wig-and-lipstick look. He dreaded even the tiny possibility that one of the Vikings would see him like this. And truth be told—he did not make a very pretty girl.
But he knew this was the most important mission he’d ever been on—maybe the most important mission in all of human history. His concerns were tiny by comparison.
Still, he made a plan to vaporize any cameras he noticed on site until he was out of disguise.
“For one thing,” Mason said, “the pirates have already seen you. And even though they’re probably terrible at telling humans apart, it’s safer to change your appearance. For another thing, the Gemini have been mostly assuming girl form during their time on Earth. It’s what the pirates expect to see. They’re less likely to ask questions.”
Amanda’s and Veronica’s parents had both come to collect them. Fisher feared, given their responses to the news coverage of the aliens’ fight, neither family would ever let their daughters out of the house again. The boys were sitting on a pair of stools in the living room, with the suitcase-sized disguise kit wide open on the floor in front of them.
FP looked up at the brothers and cocked his head, his ears twitching a little with curiosity. A pair of tentacles appeared from around the corner of the couch, and Paul glided around FP, gazing up with his deep black eyes. FP turned around and bumped Paul’s bulbous head with his snout, and the octopus responded with a little ripple of his ten limbs.
Fisher fiddled with the embroidered hem of his light blue skirt, which fell just below his knees. His white turtleneck made him feel like he was being throttled by a rag doll. At least he was wearing flats. Nothing would mess up interspecies negotiations like tripping in wedge heels before they’d gotten through the airlock.
Fisher pulled on a strand of his wig and the gentle curl sprang back up. He pulled it again, and watched the coil oscillate up and down. F = -kx, the harmonic oscillation equation. Physics always calmed him down.
“How do I look?” said Alex. Fisher brushed his new hair out of his eyes. He looked over at his clone, amazed.
“You look like a girl,” Fisher said, marveling.
“You’re pretty convincing yourself,” Alex said. He was wearing the exact same wig and outfit as Fisher. The disguise artist had even given Alex a third freckle on his nose to match Fisher exactly.
“I smell like an entire florist shop was just hurled at me,” said Fisher.
“I smell like a bakery,” said Alex. “I’m kinda liking it. Maybe I should invest in some pastry-scented colognes.”
Fisher pursed his lips, trying to catch a glimpse of the soft pink coating that now encased them: Petunia 37, according to the lipstick tube.
“Is this stuff volatile at all?” he said. “Reactive? Are there any substances I should avoid?”
“Just dignity, I think,” Alex said.
“You’re both very fetching,” Mason said with a smile. Fisher brushed a crease out of his skirt. “Ready?”
Alex nodded, followed by Fisher. Each of them shouldered a small handbag concealing a few gadgets and potentially useful items.
Mr. and Mrs. Bas, who had been consulting with several colleagues in the kitchen, entered the room and stopped short, their mouths unhinging.
“You—you look so beautiful,” their mom said, and she sniffed, wiping a real tear away from her eye.
Mr. Bas put an arm around her shoulder. “Are you certain this is the only way?” he said.
“It’s the only way short of launching an attack,” said Mason. “Your boys are going to keep a lot of people from getting hurt.”
“Is there any way we can help?” Mrs. Bas said.
“We’ll be okay,” Fisher promised—a promise he hoped he wouldn’t have to break. Sneaking onto an enemy spaceship, dressed as a teenage girl, wasn’t exactly an ideal plan.
The Bas parents were themselves disguised in perfectly tailored navy officer uniforms. They had insisted on going with Agent Mason to take their sons to the ship, and he’d insisted on this condition.
“Okay,” Fisher said, flipping his hair over his shoulder. “Let’s go negotiate.”
A car was waiting for them right outside the house, and sped them to the coast. Too soon, it pulled up beside an almost invisible footpath, which led straight through a cliff to a tiny dock covered by blue and gray camouflage netting. A small boat in the same color scheme was waiting for them.
Agent Mason, Fisher, Alex, and their parents boarded the boat. A crew of three was already aboard. Fisher staggered a little bit as the craft launched, trying to adjust for the rolling of the deck. The sky was gray above the smooth sea, and the cold mist of spray dampened his face and his fake blond hair.
“We packed this for you,” said Mr. Bas, indicating a large duffel bag he’d brought. “It has a transmitter as powerful as a major radio station. If you get in trouble just hit the big button and we’ll know. There are also two parachutes inside. Slip them on, jump, and they’ll deploy automatically as soon as you need them.”
Fisher forced a smile. They knew he’d been through tougher spots than this and gotten out okay, but this was the first time they were actually knowingly sending him into danger. If he didn’t come back, they would blame themselves as long as they lived.
But he would be okay. It was a simple job. Just pretend to be an alien species’ hive drone and conduct negotiations with a totally different alien species over a dispute he knew nothing about.
Yep, simple.
The boat started to kick a little more as the waves got higher farther from shore. It was almost evening. In the distance to the right was the opening of the San Francisco Bay, and directly ahead of them was a dark smudge in the sky, a stark shadow against the setting sun.
“There it is,” Mason said. He pulled out a pair of binoculars and gazed at the ship. “Totally motionless. Imagine the kind of power it must take to keep an object that size hovering in midair for days on end.”
Ordinarily Fisher would’ve been able to estimate the ship’s mass and calculate the amount of power it would take to the tenth of a joule. But the closer they got to the huge vessel, the more unsteady his brain felt. It seemed that no matter how many crazily dangerous situations he encountered, he was still scared.
To their right, the bay came into view, and they could see San Francisco and Oakland winding down their busy days as evening rush hour set in. Fisher thought about how many people lived there. Millions in the SF area alone. Millions more in LA, Sacramento, San Diego, back home in Palo Alto. Then farther away, Seattle, Austin, Chicago, New York, Bos
ton, Atlanta … all of those people. Every single one of them was threatened by the Gemini and by these pirates. As fear and doubt crept their spiky tentacles into Fisher’s thoughts, he kept naming cities, practically chanting in his head, as the ship got bigger and bigger ahead and above them. London, Berlin, São Paolo, Hong Kong, Calcutta, Nairobi …
He could help all of them. He had to help all of them.
Mason pulled a small hand radio out of an inside pocket.
“Attention, vessel. My name is Syd Mason, and I am a representative of the local human government. We have gotten the Gemini to agree to in-person negotiations. We are bringing them to you now, in the interest of peace for all. Please respond.”
Five seconds passed. Ten, thirty, then a minute, then five. A shadow fell over the boat. Fisher gazed up at the black-and-red monster of a ship. It looked like a windowless black tower turned on its side—and covered in guns. He wondered if the pirates would refuse, if he and everyone on the boat were about to be turned into a mist as fine as the sea spray around them.
Syd’s radio crackled, sending a shock up Fisher’s backbone.
“Confirmed,” a deep, synthesized voice responded. “Hold your position and stand away from the Gemini representatives.”
“Good luck,” Mrs. Bas whispered. She inched closer to them, obviously seized by a powerful urge to hug the boys. But she quickly backed away, careful to maintain their cover.
“You’ll do great,” said Mr. Bas, his voice catching a little in his throat, patting each of them on the shoulder once.
“Clear a space,” Mason said. He, Fisher’s parents, and the crew backed away as far as the little boat allowed, and Fisher and Alex stepped forward. Fisher kept a tight grip on the duffel bag.
There was a very slight warmth on Fisher’s face, and the sea scents in the air disappeared. Even the sounds around them dulled. A smooth, almost comforting hum greeted their ears. Suddenly, everything was green. Fisher and Alex were standing in the center of a column of light.