Aliens Abroad

by Gini Koch

  “How are the stakes high about this?” Vance asked.

  “Wow, Ard Ri Al’s really thrown you off your game. Jeff needs this particular wrinkle like he needs a hole in his head. And telling the others is just a slight delay in their telling him. I can explain the Ard Ri easily enough—we’re appeasing, what, four hundred or so micronations by accepting their representative and allowing him to join us. He sits somewhere close to me,” because I knew without asking that Algar expected to be close to me for whatever reason, “and we solve a micro issue.”

  “I see what you did there,” Vance said, sarcasm knob at seven on the one-to-ten scale. “However, if you’re expected to bring these animals with you, that’s less easily explained.”

  “I’ll figure something out. I just think that, under the stressful circumstances, we need to kind of lay low about all of this. Until after the event. Then we come clean to everyone. Basically, we’re not telling them the full Ard Ri Al situation for about two hours or less. What could go wrong in that time?”

  Everyone, Algar included, gave me the “really?” look. The least weasels were probably giving me that look from inside their Royal Hatbox. “I don’t think we have time for me to list all the possibilities,” Vance said.

  Walter nodded. “This is a prime opportunity for our enemies, Chief First Lady.”

  “Plus, it’s you,” Vance added. “Weird, strange, embarrassing things happen to you all the time, despite everything I and the rest of your team do to circumvent them.”

  “I resent that. I can’t deny it, especially at this precise moment, but I do resent it.”

  “I’m sure your fine Secret Service will prevent any issues,” Algar said soothingly.

  “Speaking of whom, Walt, where are all my security teams?” And everyone else. I’d sent out the “potential invader” warning—we should have been mobbed by people by now. Frankly, we should have been mobbed by people by the time Algar had shown me the least weasels, let alone by this point. And yet, we were alone and I didn’t hear anyone waiting in the hallway.

  Walter looked surprised by this question. “Where you told them to be, Chief First Lady.”

  Other than the kids and the Alexis sisters, I hadn’t told anyone to be anywhere or do anything today. I’d given the “intruder alert” signal but I hadn’t told anyone else what to do. I’d kind of assumed they’d know what to do without my having to spell it out, since it was their job, all of their jobs. “Um, refresh my memory, just for fun. Where did I tell them to be?”

  “On the Carpet.”

  CHAPTER 6

  THE CARPET WAS THE Secret Service term for the underground parking garage where the Presidential motor pool was housed. And I hadn’t told anyone to meet me there. But clearly Algar had. Someone who could make tens of thousands of people believe there was an active Operations team wouldn’t have an issue circumventing all the security I’d tried to activate.

  Waited. Neither Vance nor Walter pointed out that I’d given a warning to anyone, and Vance had heard all of my instructions. Looked at them out of the corners of my eyes. They didn’t look like they disagreed with the idea of all of my security being elsewhere. So Algar had affected them too, which, all things considered, was not a shocker.

  However, I was getting “what’s your damage?” looks from both of them. So, time to continue this weird fiction. “I’m not used to anyone doing anything I tell them to, at least in regard to things like this.”

  “Well, they’re there,” Walter said confidently. Something beeped on his Mini Bat Cave Command Center. “And everyone else is there, too.”

  “Including the kids?” Who I’d told to go to the Embassy. Walter nodded. “And Jeff?” Who normally came to get me.

  Walter nodded again. “That’s what the signal said.”

  Decided to go for it and looked at Algar. Who was busily closing up the least weasel cage. He was up to something, in a major way, and I wanted to know what, before it rolled. I knew he knew it, too, because he kept his back to me.

  Resisted heaving a huge sigh and forged on. “Great. Then Vance and I and Ard Ri Al will head that way, too. Carrying the Royal Hat Box here and just pretending it’s not full of live animals.”

  The live animals shared that they knew they needed to remain quiet and they would. Was about to leave when I realized something was missing in this area. “Walter, where are George and Gracie and Teddy?” George and Gracie were Walter’s Peregrines and Teddy was his Poof. And they were always with him unless they were on some sort of Security Mission.

  “They’re with Secretary Kramer.”

  “Um, why?”

  Walter shrugged. “She’s today’s Designated Survivor.”

  Marcia Kramer had been in the Washington Wife class with me, back when she was Senator Zachary Kramer’s third wife and my sometime enemy. She was now my friend, the Secretary of Education, and no longer married to Kramer because he was dead from trying to kill me during Operation Fundraiser.

  The Designated Survivor rule was in place to ensure that if something killed the country’s leadership in one fell swoop that there would be someone around to carry on and keep things calm. In most administrations, this role had fallen to someone far down the Cabinet Food Chain. Under the many circumstances that surrounded us, however, Jeff’s Presidential Cabinet had decided to do a rotation—each big event meant one of them would be assigned to be the DS. That way, someone Jeff—and therefore the country, world, and galaxy—could trust to do the right things was left potentially in charge.

  “Why the Secretary of Education? For something this historic it would seem to make sense that she was with us, and I’m sure her kids don’t want to miss it, either. Besides, I thought it was Nathalie Gagnon-Brewer’s turn to take the short straw.”

  “Secretary Kramer’s children are with the rest of our children and families in the Embassy Day Care or Sidwell Friends School,” Walter said. “But Secretary Kramer felt that it was more important for the Secretary of Transportation to attend.”

  “Whatever works,” Vance said before I could reply. “Marcia’s still trying to show you and Jeff how grateful she is for your trust in her, Kitty. And she and Nathalie are back to being good friends, too, so this was probably as much a friend favor as anything else.”

  The light beeped again. “Chief First Lady, they’re waiting for you.”

  Heaved a sigh. “The show must go on. Walter, remain ever vigilant for danger. Ard Ri Al, Vance, and my new least weasels, come with me.” Not that the least weasels had a choice, since I was still carrying them.

  Realized I was missing something vital. Handed the Royal Hatbox to Vance. “Forgot my purse. I’ll be right back.” Took off at hyperspeed and got into our suite in record time. Grabbed my purse from the coffee table—it was big, black, and made of cheap leather, and it had stood the test of time and my lifestyle like a pro. It rarely fit my look, though it was faking it well today, all things considered. But fitting in or not, I was not going anywhere without it—it had saved my life and the lives of others countless times before Algar had turned it into a portal, and I wasn’t going to leave without whatever I’d tossed in there with me, especially my phone.

  Purse over my neck in the cross-body position that meant I was ready for anything, I took a detour into the closet and talked to the hamper—another place I was sure Algar had made a portal. “I have no idea what your game is, but I’d really like to know before all hell breaks loose.”

  No Algar appeared. Not a surprise, of course, and not because he was with Vance. Algar could and routinely did freeze time or step out of it or whatever the Black Hole Universe called it. He could actually be two places at once, at least as far as I’d seen. But him not showing now wasn’t shocking—if he’d wanted to talk privately to me, he could have just snapped those fingers at any time. He hadn’t snapped, so he wanted to be stealth, so to speak.

>   “I’d have appreciated a heads-up. And I’d like to know why you’ve given everyone other than me and Vance these weird suggestions to do things and be places that aren’t normal and why you’ve let Vance and the others believe whatever weird lies you’ve put into their heads. In that sense. I’d also like to know why you want to come along with me for this particular event. You’re usually far more hands-off. Frankly, as far as I’ve ever seen or known, you prefer to be invisible.”

  No Algar, but something appeared on the lid of the hamper. A large manila envelope.

  Picked it up but before I could take a look, the intercom went off. “Chief First Lady, the President really needs you to get downstairs. First Lady’s Chief of Staff Beaumont has already taken Ard Ri Al to the Carpet.”

  Shoved the envelope into my purse. “Got it, Walt. Be right there.” The com went off and I went back into the main part of the suite. “All Poofs who want to go to a boring speech should get into Kitty’s purse. All Peregrines on external White House duty should go to or stay chameleoned up and head out with Kitty. All animals coming along need to know we now possess a family of eight least weasels who are not to be attacked and who appear to be excited about joining our extended animal family.”

  Checked my purse. Had only a few Poofs on Board. Well, I hadn’t exactly sold this as being an awesome excursion, it was cold, and the Poofs had probably voted for snoozing. Could not blame them.

  Felt something feathered nudge against my leg. “Bruno, my bird, let’s get this bizarre show on the road.” Reached down and gave him a scritchy-scratch between his wings, which earned me a loving warble and the confirmation that Peregrines were on the case wherever Peregrines needed to be. Straightened up and took off.

  Hyperspeed being awesome, arrived downstairs in a couple of seconds. To find that everyone was already in the various limos and burly SUVs we used, and the rear passenger door to the Beast, the President’s personal limo that was supposedly the most secure vehicle in the world—that the A-Cs had taken one look at, sniffed disparagingly, and fixed up to be truly invulnerable—was open. Kyle was standing outside, holding said door.

  Algar was definitely affecting things, because this wasn’t something that happened, ever. No one loaded up until everyone was down here and ready—we weren’t a group that waited well. Didn’t argue or discuss, just got in. Algar was sitting on the bench that faced the back along with the three kids. Jeff, Raj, and Vance were in the back. Kyle helped me inside, I settled in between Jeff and Vance, and verified that Len was driving. Kyle closed my door and got into the shotgun seat, and we took off.

  This was the fastest, smoothest departure we’d made possibly ever. I was directly across from Algar, who had the Royal Hatbox on his lap. “I assume everyone’s been introduced?”

  “Yeah, baby,” Jeff said, sounding perfectly normal. “One additional person isn’t going to be a problem.” He shot Algar what I thought of as his Impressing the Parents Smile. “And having the representative from the Brotherhood of Nations with us to smooth things over with all of his fellow sovereigns is a good thing. Thank you for fixing that up for us.”

  Well, it wasn’t someone telling me I was insane for this, so that was one for the win column. That Jeff and the others were being mind-controlled by Algar wasn’t.

  “Music, Kitty?” Kyle asked.

  “Oh my God, yes, please, and thank you very much.”

  “Mama, Don’t You Worry” by Smash Mouth came on. “Oh, but I do worry,” I said conversationally. “Today’s a big day and things just seem . . . a little . . . off.”

  “I’m sure things will seem normal shortly,” Algar said confidently. “You’re all just nervous. Once the butterflies settle, you’ll feel right.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Daddy, can we go on a vacation?” Jamie asked. “Once your important speech is over, I mean.”

  “Sorry,” Lizzie said. “We were talking about it at breakfast once you’d left, and I forgot to remind Jamie and Charlie to ask about it after the speech.”

  “That’s not a problem,” Jeff reassured. “Mommy and I will discuss it and we’ll see, okay, kids? Though I’m sure we could all use a vacation.”

  This opened the floodgates and the kids started discussing fun places to go, though Jamie kept on naming people who should come with us and Charlie kept on insisting that anyplace suggested wasn’t as fun as it should be.

  I didn’t join in because I was worried and didn’t want Jeff to pick it up, though he clearly had his empathic blocks set on high, or Algar was providing an assist, because he should have noted my concern already.

  The music changed to “It’s OK (It’s Alright)” by the Fine Young Cannibals, and after that to “Alright” by Lit. Clearly Algar wanted me to relax and not worry. Did my best. Failed, for the most part.

  It only took the three songs for us to arrive—Andrews wasn’t all that far from the White House, especially when we were traveling in this way, with the D.C.P.D. blocking streets and us rolling like a badass caravan.

  There were the usual protestors in the streets—sadly the Club 51 True Believers had only gotten stronger in the past year-plus despite our attempts at infiltration. Infiltrators had all come back with the same intel: the only way to stop this was to either kill all of them—which wasn’t an acceptable choice to any of us on the side of pro-alien sentiment, sanity, or decency—or to change all the hearts and minds of the members. We’d managed that once, with a good portion of the original Club 51 membership, but no one felt that this kind of lightning was going to strike twice. Meaning it was change individuals’ hearts and minds, one at a time. Which was going exactly as fast as you’d expect, meaning at a snail’s pace.

  Thankfully, we were ushered through Andrews’ security checkpoint quickly and I stopped worrying about Club 51 True Believers and focused instead on the situation at hand.

  Which was impossible to miss.

  CHAPTER 7

  ANDREWS WAS A BIG Air Force base, but the Distant Voyager was huge. And it was lifted up on launch scaffolding or whatever they called it so everyone could see its gleaming beauty.

  The caravan parked and as we exited the cars and headed toward where Jeff would be speaking, I held Charlie’s hand, Lizzie took Jamie’s, Jeff took Jamie’s and Charlie’s other hands, and we all stared at the ship.

  It was massive. Gustav Drax had been instrumental in this ship’s design, which was a good thing, since he was a self-exiled Prince of Vatusus, which was a planet where they communed naturally with all things electronic. Drax had started out as an Accidental Big Bad during Operation Epidemic, but I’d swayed him to our side during Operation Madhouse, and we were all glad to have his skills on the Side of Right because, true to his own hype, he was a weapons creation genius, and that genius extended to spaceships.

  He’d worked with our NASA teams as well as teams from many of the races that had come to Earth for protection and asylum, including all the spacefaring planets in the Alpha Centauri system. Basically, the Distant Voyager was more than just Earth’s first manned long-range spacecraft—she represented how well all the disparate races could work together to create something amazing.

  It wasn’t quite as large as Drax’s helicarrier—which I always thought of as a S.H.I.E.L.D. flying fortress—an Alpha Four Imperial Battlecruiser, or the Themnir’s Roving Planet, and its layout was so different than the Faradawn Treeship that I couldn’t make an apt size comparison. But it was definitely bigger than a Canus Majorian Dog’s Head, a Feliniad Cat’s Paw, a Reptilian Lizard-Bird of Prey, a Lyssara Borg-Honeycomb, a Yggenthnian Hand Trowel, a Vrierst Manta Ray, or a Z’porrah Flying Saucer. They had official, real names, but those were the ones I used—my names were far more accurate.

  Because Drax had been involved in the entire process, the Distant Voyager looked beautiful as well as functional. He’d insisted that the ship gleam, so it had a gold
en hue that made it glitter in sunlight.

  Unlike our spaceships of the past, which were all bullet shaped, the Distant Voyager was more of a giant circle with a slice taken out of the back, where a curved combination of Y-shaped thrusters sat above and a thick, slightly curved tail below. But the bridge was Drax’s S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier Deluxe all the way. The usual bells, whistles, computers, and such, and a six-person control circle, a little ways away from the windshield. That it was called a windshield, versus a space shield or whatever, amused me to no end, but I was, apparently, the only one so amused, so I’d stopped making jokes about our inability to come up with a better word ages ago.

  The main saucer section of the ship had twenty-one levels—to ensure that the ship could carry either refugees or troops or both, depending—and the thick tail and thrusters were actually a smaller ship with ten decks that could detach from the main saucer section for exploration and such, but I’d never seen any of this in person. I’d never seen any of the ship in person before now, my skills not being needed for creation or construction, and my input—“ensure there are about ten times the number of bathrooms that you guys think are necessary, and that’s a FLOTUS order”—was deemed to be more than plenty of help from the likes of me.

  We were moved along toward the staging area where Jeff was going to be giving his speech, with the Distant Voyager gleaming behind him. There were dignitaries and press and a lot of brouhaha—even more than normal. This wasn’t a surprise. While all the other planets we now knew about and were “joined” with had manned interstellar space flight, this was really Earth’s inauguration into the Big Boy League in terms of something other than being nasty and really great at kicking butt, getting knocked down, and getting right back up again.

  Now I desperately wanted to hear Chumbawamba singing “Tubthumping” but, sadly, that was not to be. We were surrounded by far too many people with cameras and opinions for me to slip in my earbuds. Besides, all my focus needed to be on Charlie. Because the real test would be whether or not my son tried to lift the Distant Voyager or not. We were all sincerely hoping for “not,” and ensuring that outcome fell to me, at least until it was time for me to go onto the dais with Jeff.