by Gini Koch
“Babe, I’m the best at what I do . . . everything I do.”
“Hey, that’s my Wolverine line. You need your own line, Captain America.”
“The love in the fountain’s great,” Jeff said, interrupting our witty repartee. “And even if Siler, Chuck, and Missus Maurer are right, we still have to have a plan of defense or, laughably, attack. Uncle Richard, any ideas?”
“I’m wondering why, if Missus Martini’s bravado was taken as a challenge and accepted, the Entity Currently Known as Sloshy backed off.”
“Mister White, you’re my favorite.”
Jeff groaned. Buchanan shook his head. “And I lose favored status just that fast.”
“Oh, Malcolm, you’re still my favorite, too. But I think Mister White has a point. Why not just do whatever? Why take off to fight another day?”
Chuckie cocked his head. “He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day. Whatever it was, it wasn’t winning against you.”
“I honestly don’t think Sloshy was trying all that hard.”
“I think it might have been,” Mrs. Maurer said. “You were involved. We were watching. All of us.” She patted Prince’s head.
“The animals . . .” Looked around. The Poofs and Peregrines all looked right at me and gave me a full blast of the Sea of Animal Innocence Look. “Oh. Wow. Really?”
“I do think so,” White said. “It makes the most sense.”
“Really, what?” Jeff asked in that resigned tone he’d perfected by now. “So far, nothing that’s happened today makes sense to me, and I include the fact that I’m somehow a vice presidential candidate in that statement.”
“I think what Richard and Squeaky are insinuating is that Sloshy didn’t go for it because the Poofs and Peregrines were here.” And a superconsciousness from the Eagle Nebula would be likely to know that the Peregrines were powerful. Chances were also good that it was aware that the Poofs weren’t from around here.
The Water Man might have backed off because of the animals. It also might have backed off because it realized that if the Poofs were here, then Algar was here, and that could offer a unique opportunity for Sloshy to have a chat with the Black Hole People. Even odds for either option. Or both.
Needed to talk to Algar. Oh well, everyone, good or bad, wanted us there anyway. “James, I don’t care about the political crap.”
“This is news?” Christopher muttered.
Ignored him. “We need to get to Dulce, even if it’s just for the night. We have personnel from three very full embassies to house. We can freaking take a gate back if Jeff or Paul are desperately needed, you know, like we used to do all the damn time. I’m making another unpopular decision and saying that we’re all going to the Science Center, and we’re going there now.”
CHAPTER 25
AFTER THE USUAL ARGUMENTS, which I won, and the usual protests, which I ignored, I played the Head Diplomat card yet again, White and Buchanan backed me, and floater gates were provided, for us and everyone else we wanted or needed to house.
Gates were A-C technology that allowed you to travel from one place to another in a matter of seconds. They looked like fancier airport metal detectors that were also doors to nowhere. But they worked like the most amazing and yet nauseating travel system ever.
The gates had been the bane of my existence from day one with Centaurion and nothing—including getting some A-C talents and powers—had changed this. Normally Jeff carried me through a gate transfer. Under the circumstances, however, I decided to tough it out and show whoever and whatever was watching that I could walk through a gate with the best of them.
Fortunately I had just the right amount of food still in my stomach, so I neither tossed cookies nor dry heaved. It’s the little victories you cherish.
The Dulce Science Center was the main base for all of Centaurion Division worldwide. It went fifteen stories down and I still wasn’t really sure how wide it was. Rather than waste valuable time and mental space on knowing its exact size and layout, I went with the simpler idea that it was probably about the size of five Pentagons and let it go at that. My lack of ability with mazes was, by now, legendary, and I saw no reason to sully that proud reputation.
In my first couple of years with Centaurion Jeff and I had lived on the lowest level, the fifteenth floor, in what I called his Human Lair. It was the only set of rooms in any regular A-C facility that looked like humans had designed it. Not that the A-Cs lived diametrically differently from humans, but they didn’t have the same adoration of TVs that humans did, for example, and they tended to go for hotel room-type functionality instead of sloppy hominess.
I still missed the Lair, but I’d gotten used to the Embassy by now. And, due to the fact that a lot of human politicians and the like came into the Embassy regularly, it was far more “human” than the Science Center felt the need to be. The one bright spot I could see so far was that we’d spend tonight in the Lair.
We arrived on what I called the Bat Cave level. It was loaded with computer terminals, screens straight out of Minority Report, machines and equipment that, four-plus years in, I still didn’t even try to identify, and lots of human and A-C personnel, all beavering away at their assigned tasks. Other than when we’d been infiltrated or had to evacuate for some reason, the Bat Cave always hummed with efficiency.
Field and Imageering Main were also on this level, and Reader trotted off to do the Worldwide Check on the Troops thing. Saw Jeff and Christopher both shoot longing looks toward Reader’s retreating backside. Not because they’d turned gay during the trip from D.C. to Dulce, but because they still missed being the Heads of those divisions. I could relate—there were many days, today being Exhibit Number One, when I missed being the Head of Airborne more than I could express.
Speaking of Airborne, Tim and the flyboys were also back with us, which was a relief in a variety of ways. Unsurprisingly, they were all for fighting Sloshy and none of them felt I was a major screwup for basically telling a visiting superconsciousness to suck it. I loved my guys.
“I’m with Kitty,” Matt Hughes said, after Christopher had explained why we were, we presumed, screwed.
Chip Walker nodded. “Best defense is a good offense.”
“Chip and Matt are my favorites.”
Jeff groaned and Jerry Tucker shot me a betrayed look. “Hey, I thought I was your favorite. I think your plan’s the right one, too, even if I don’t know what it is.”
“Well, that’s true, you are my favorite, Jerry.” This was actually true, but choosing between my favorites was like picking ice cream flavors—they were all great in their own way.
Tim pulled the flyboys and Jeff away before they could continue to discuss my brilliance and love for them. People were milling about, working, doing things, having meetings, but no one was asking for my input. Which was fine, because I’d done enough of that for right now.
In the days before what I called Operation Destruction and the rest of the world called the Terrifying Alien Invasion That Almost Destroyed Us All, we’d have had to either high-security brief, memory wipe, or memory alter everyone who we’d had to bring along.
These days, it was more like they were getting a special private tour. Mossad were certainly treating it that way. There were a ton of Mossad agents who’d been at the Israeli embassy, and, to a one, they were loving being at the Science Center. Oren, Jakob, and Leah, by benefit of being our close friends, were gaining major Envy Points from the rest of their crowd for having been here before.
My parents were here, too. Mom was, of course, discussing strategic military response options to address my latest screwup, but Dad was organizing tours. Dad had far more people clustered around him, therefore, and he was clearly enjoying himself.
Surprisingly, the entire K-9 crew was here, too. Prince was happy to be reunited with Officer Melville, and vice versa, but it was kind of weird to have the police here. However, Reader felt they were targets due to their known association with us, a f
act Siler confirmed as I sidled over to where he was, since he was in a part of the Bat Cave that wasn’t loaded with people.
Buchanan had uncuffed him, based on Jeff’s assurances that Siler wasn’t feeling enemy-like toward any of us. There were a variety of empaths keeping tabs on him, though, Jeremy Barone included. Rahmi and Rhee were also on Siler Duty, and they were, as always, slavishly devoted to their assigned task. However, since I’d asked for a little privacy, they and Jeremy were standing about ten feet away, watching everything Siler did.
However, when a variety of D.C. bigwigs, Senators Armstrong and McMillan included, arrived, along with their spouses and close aides, I had to ask the obvious question. “Are we bringing every single person we know here, or is that just my impression based on seeing every single person I know here?”
“They need to be protected,” Siler said.
“Fantastic. My grandparents aren’t far away, are they?”
“All family members are with your in-laws, per what I heard. Because they, like the others, need protection. Trust me.”
Made sense. Martini Manor was gigantic and could easily handle my extended family. They certainly had before. It was probably another Old Home Week for everyone over there.
“You keep on saying that, and yet I’m not so sure that I should. By the way, do we need to pull my ‘uncles’ in, too? And I’m asking that seriously.” I’d figure out how to keep Mom, Chuckie, Kevin, and everyone else from arresting them. Somehow.
Siler gave me a long look. “You’re truly serious.”
“Yeah. They protect me. I think, if we’re trying to cover everyone who knows and even sort of likes us, that they deserve that protection, too.”
“No wonder they care about you.” He sounded sincere. He looked sincere, too. And a little wistful.
“Dude, if you’re actually our friend and not going to try to blow us all up now that we’re all finally herded here like so many lambs to slaughter, then that care and protection extends to you, too, you know.”
“No wonder they’re afraid of you. Not your uncles—your enemies.”
“Since when are our enemies afraid of us?”
“Not ‘us.’ They’re afraid of you, you specifically.”
“I discovered I was Evil Genius Enemy Number One when Jamie was born. But I’ve never noted that any of them are afraid of me.”
“Oh, they are. I think the thing you’re calling Sloshy is afraid of you, too.”
“If you say so, but I don’t see it.”
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“Care to explain that?”
“Maybe later. I actually do want to call your uncles. Doubt they’ll want to come in, though. Not with what seems like all of Mossad here, not to mention your mother.”
“Ask anyway. If they need to hide with the rest of us, then they get neutrality. This is A-C land, not U.S. or Israeli.” Technically. I hoped.
Siler gave me a half-smile. “I’ll let you know what they want to do.” He stepped off to make his call, his guardians following right behind him.
Needed to get out of the crowd and find a laundry hamper. Or at least a private room. Considered going to the second floor, but, frankly, the unused drainage pipe would be the best choice, and the easiest entrance to that was on the fifteenth floor.
“Heading down to check out the Lair,” I told Jeff, who was chatting it up with his political allies.
He shot me the hairy eyeball. “Be careful, and don’t leave without me.”
“Wasn’t planning on going anywhere but downstairs to make sure the Lair’s all ready for us. Want to be sure the Operations Team have things for Jamie in there, too.”
Jeff looked slightly relieved, probably due to the fact that I hadn’t said I wanted to see what the Elves were up to in front of a variety of senators and representatives. I knew he couldn’t tell what I was feeling—not that I thought there were emotional blockers or overlays around, but because Algar kept anything about himself blocked.
Dad had Jamie, so all was fine there. Everyone else seemed busy. Well and good. Headed to the elevators and down to the fifteenth floor. It was time to try to take a meeting with the King of the Elves.
CHAPTER 26
I COULD NEVER BE IN AN ELEVATOR without thinking of Jeff, particularly an elevator in the Science Center. As always, the damned Evil Genius League was making me try to thwart their convoluted and heinous plans instead of having fantastic sex with my husband. I really hated these people.
Boring, solitary elevator ride over, I exited and headed to the Lair. In addition to other things, this floor was the high-security prisoner holding area. Every prisoner ever held down here that I knew of had escaped somehow, usually via ACE-like means. Or by being let go because someone felt sorry for them. Wondered why the A-Cs had high-security holding cells at all sometimes.
Random thoughts about this floor taken care of, I entered the Lair. It was really one big living room/sitting room/den with a connected master bedroom with bathroom and big walk-in closet. Everything that had been here before was here now.
Went into the closet. Unsurprisingly, we had plenty of clothes in here, for me, Jeff and Jamie. Decided to get out of the Fatigues and into clothes that would allow me to work better.
Jeans, Converse, and my 4th of July Aerosmith shirt on, I felt a lot readier for action. Things were always better with my Bad Boys from Boston on my chest.
“Yo,” I said as I dropped my dirty clothes into the hamper, “King of the Elves, we have a situation. I’m sure you’re aware of it, but we might want to discuss what’s going on, just for fun and all.”
Nothing.
Sighed to myself and sat down on the floor. Dug through my purse and pulled out my iPod. Algar enjoyed his jokes, and he liked to leave me musical clues. Plus I hadn’t heard any music since we’d gone to the protest, which seemed like forever ago, but was really only several hours ago. But still, that was a long time with no tunes, at least for me.
Sure enough, my iPod was on a playlist I’d never created. “Really? ‘Songs in the Key of Flee.’ Cute. So does that mean you’ve done a runner, you think we should do a runner, or someone else is doing a runner? Or are you just, as you always are, being a galaxy-class jerk? You know I’m going to go into the pipe and visit the reclamation plant where you live if you don’t show up, right?”
Nothing. Really hoped this wasn’t Algar’s Goodbye and Good Luck message. Put in my earbuds and took a listen. First song was “Elevator” by Flo Rida and Timbaland. I normally thought of this song the same way I thought of “Love in an Elevator” by Aerosmith—a song about having sex with Jeff in one of my favorite places to have sex.
“I don’t want to reaffirm life by doing the deed right now. Well, I tell a lie. I’d love nothing more than to go have lots of great sex with Jeff right now. Thing is, we have a Science Center chock full of people, a lot of scary crap going on, and I need to beg you for a clue much more than I need to remind myself why it’s great to be Jeff’s woman. Or do you just want to watch the Elevator Porn Channel right now?”
Scrolled down. Huh. “Elevator” was repeated over and over again. Clearly, Algar wanted a word in a specific location, and this one wasn’t it.
Never let it be said I couldn’t take a huge hint. Got up and trotted right back to the elevators. Got in and took a look at the buttons. “Reclamation” was a selection. This wasn’t a button available normally—and unless it had been added by the A-Cs in the ten minutes between my exiting and returning to this elevator, Algar was enjoying himself.
Pushed the button, felt the gentle Time Warp feeling of a non-gate-transfer, and the doors opened to show a big room with three large water tanks in it. They were all connected with pipes and metal walkways. It looked almost legitimate, like there really was a reclamation plant inside the Science Center. Only it didn’t smell, at all, of anything, and the water in all three tanks was pristine—I knew this for fact, since I’d gone swimming in one of them. From the botto
m up.
Stepped out onto a metal catwalk and took a look around. The elevator doors were gone. I knew they’d never really been there. Algar used this area to do his Black Hole Operations Magic, and considering he’d made it so that no one had noticed that a pipe that started on ground level and ended up fourteen or fifteen stories lower never, ever slanted downward, among other things, his making me think I’d taken a weird elevator ride was pretty much nothing.
I’d only been here a couple of times, and both of them were surprises for Algar. So I’d seen some things I knew he hadn’t really wanted me to see. Proof of this was that this time, I didn’t see either the pile of glittering Z’Porrah power cubes nor his unmade bed and other personal items. The room was pristine and almost sparkling.
“Expecting an inspection?” I asked the nobody who was here.
“Same as you are,” Algar said from behind me.
I jumped and spun around. Managed not to scream, but only just. “You just live to make an entrance.”
He shrugged. “It keeps things from getting dull.”
Algar was a dwarf by human standards. What he was by Black Hole Universe standards I didn’t know. But by my standards he was indeed rakishly handsome, with tousled, dark wavy hair and eyes that were the real clue to him not being from around here—they were an unnaturally bright green.
I figured he’d liked hanging around the A-Cs, and humans even more, because he could blend in here. All it would take was a pair of colored contacts and he could walk down any city street anywhere on Earth. I often figured that he did.
“Speaking of blending, was all this to ensure that Siler couldn’t use his chameleon powers to follow me and find out about you?”
Algar’s lips twitched. “Do you seriously think I couldn’t block him?”
“I seriously know I’ve surprised you by showing up here unannounced. Therefore, if I can do it, someone else can do it, too. Potentially using one of the Lost Power Cubes.”
“You haven’t found the one in Gaultier yet.”