Alien Collective

by Gini Koch

  “We were, but all the data was taken and it was a lower-level restoration requirement,” Mom said. Ah, it had occurred. Go team. “However, if the data is truly back now, we can probably do so fairly quickly. Possibly before the National Convention, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

  “Why not? I’d bet Dulce could get those suckers out fast.”

  “Yes, they could. And for the half of Congress that feels that they’d be signing up their constituents and themselves to be probed by aliens, that’s a frightening idea. It’s not the creation alone that’s the issue, Kitty. It’s the legal use of this kind of scan that will be the bigger holdup.”

  Managed not to say that we used the OVS all the time. We did because we could—the law for us was the Pontifex, the Diplomatic Corps, and Alpha Team. All of whom were all for using the OVS. But Mom had a good point. Heaved a sigh. “They’re risking being blown up by an android that looks like the congressman next door.”

  “We’re all at risk every day, kitten. But unless you also think we should be tapping everyone’s phones twenty-four-seven, you have to go through the proper channels and procedures. Otherwise you have a fascist dictatorship. Or anarchy.”

  Refrained from making a snippy comment about the NSA. Because, you know, they might be listening. “Think the Mastermind is in the NSA?”

  “That would be too easy and too obvious.”

  “Yeah. Bummer. So, anyway, I think they’re going to make a move to get or kill Kozlow. We have Chernobog and I’m sure the Mastermind knows that by now. Whether that means they’ll make a move on the other prisoners or not I have no bet.”

  “They’re hard to get to.”

  “Whoever hired Chernobog is in the U.S. government.”

  Mom was quiet for a few seconds. “She could be saying that to create havoc. Or to get you to ask for us to release him into your custody.”

  “Or it could be the truth. Frankly, we know the Mastermind’s got connections. It’s not a surprise that he’d be in a position of some kind of power.”

  “I’ll advise that guard should be increased. Anything else?”

  “Yeah. Any suggestions for how to handle the Cameron Maurer situation, since he hasn’t blown up so far?”

  “Not really. I’m sure his mother will have some ideas.”

  “Really? You have nothing for me on this one?”

  “Nope. You’re the diplomat, not me. Keep me posted, kitten.”

  We hung up as Serene opened the containment room door. Couldn’t speak for anyone else, but I was prepared for Maurer to blow up anyway, or to attack us.

  He did neither. He walked out of the room and went to his mother. “Mother, I had the weirdest, most horrible dream.” He looked around. “I really have no idea where we are. What’s going on?”

  “We’ll explain it to you,” Raj said, Troubadour Tones set on Soothe. “In a few minutes. Right now, why don’t you and your mother have a reunion?”

  “Why did you leave?” Maurer asked her.

  “You weren’t yourself.” She took his hand. “Let’s go have that little reunion, dear.”

  “If it’s alright, I’d like to escort you both,” White said.

  Raj nodded. “I as well. We’ll figure out what to tell the press, and run it past you first, Ambassador, don’t worry about that.”

  “Yes,” Mrs. Maurer said. “I believe it will help having you both with us and helping craft our statement.” She took my hand for a moment. “Thank you for giving me back at least part of my son.”

  “Glad to.”

  Maurer looked confused, but he didn’t ask any more questions. The four of them left, presumably to go to one of the salons in the Embassy, or to the rooms Mrs. Maurer was staying in.

  The agents with us broke down the containment room and took it away, in about two minutes. Which, at hyperspeed, was kind of a long time. Then again, if they needed to take some time constructing and deconstructing the thing that could stop the giant explosions, that was okay with me. They all left with the equipment.

  “Now what?” Jeff asked.

  “Ah, Chief? We have protestors outside. All bases in populated areas are reporting protestors, as is the Pontifex’s Residence, as well as the embassies that are friendly to us, such as Israel’s, Bahrain’s, and Romania’s. All buildings with shields have them activated, ours included. The Bahraini and Israeli embassies say this is no big deal to them and we shouldn’t worry. We have overflow personnel with the Bahrainis again.”

  “Oh joy, oh rapture, the Loon Squad has arrived. Tell our friends sorry and thank you, please. We’re on our way to take a look-see.”

  We left Hacker International, Chernobog, a dozen Field agents who arrived sharing that Reader had sent them over, and Serene in the computer lab and headed downstairs.

  Went onto the bridge. Sure enough, we had a ton of people clogging the streets around us, holding more of those Armstrong-Martini signs that had the red circle with a line through it on them.

  There were also a nice complement of “Aliens Go Home”, “The Only Good Aliens Are Dead Aliens”, “Probe Elsewhere”, and similar. There were also a lot of anti-gay signs joined by a lot of Biblical verses and such that undoubtedly didn’t actually mean that God wanted us all dead, but which the Church of Intolerance was also undoubtedly using as proof that God despised us and wanted us burning in hell.

  They saw us and started shouting, waving their signs, and throwing things. We couldn’t hear them, the waving made the signs illegible, and the shielding bounced all the rotten veggies and the like right back onto them. So we had that going for us.

  “What do we do?” I asked everyone and no one.

  Len cleared his throat. “Ah, I have an idea.”

  “Go for it.”

  “I say we do nothing.”

  CHAPTER 85

  WE ALL STARED AT HIM. “Say what?” Christopher asked before I could.

  Len looked uncomfortable, but he went on. “We do nothing.” He looked to Kyle. “It’s just like the UCLA game when we were juniors, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Kyle nodded enthusiastically. “We were being accused of cheating, which we absolutely were not doing. So UCLA had a bunch of supporters come down to our campus and protest our team.”

  “Coach told us to ignore them,” Len said. “And pretend they weren’t even there. Because giving them attention was what they wanted and the media would do plenty of that anyway.”

  “Yeah, he said that the best way to deal with them was to practice hard, play harder, and win the game fair and square. Which we did.” Kyle beamed proudly. “It was my best game that season. Len’s too. It was like he couldn’t throw an interception or miss a receiver.”

  “Protest is part of being in a political campaign,” Chuckie said slowly. “I think they have a really good point.”

  “We have enough going on that we need to prep for anyway,” Jeff said. “But how do we get in and out? I mean so that the public sees? And how do we keep random people on the streets, or who live and work around these protest areas, safe?”

  “Well, that’s not actually our job, is it? So, we do what every other politician in these circumstances does. We ask for governmental assistance and police protection. And, I know just the police I want protecting us.” Pulled out my phone and sent Officer Melville a text.

  He replied quickly. D.C.P.D. had been advised of the various protests and were already scrambling teams to cover. They’d also requested the National Guard, but hadn’t heard if that request was going to be fulfilled or not.

  “The K-9 squad are on their way. One quarter with us, one quarter with the Israelis, one quarter with the Bahrainis, and the last at the Pontifex’s Residence. They’re sending regular police to cover the rest of our street and Romania’s embassy, as well as other areas.”

  “I want to keep Paul with us, and James, too, if he’s able to come out,” Jeff said.

  “No argument. But they expect attacks on the building, so they want people ther
e.”

  “That’s fine,” Chuckie said. “I’ve got Angela alerted—we’ll also have P.T.C.U., F.B.I., C.I.A., and Homeland Security support, in addition to those of us already here.”

  “So, now what?” Christopher said. “We just wait around and pretend this isn’t happening?”

  “Sort of,” Len replied. “But Jeff’s going to be going up onstage at the National Convention. He needs a speech, which I’m sure Raj already has written, but he also needs to practice it. Kitty, same thing—they may expect you to speak, and you need to be prepared.”

  Chuckie nodded. “This isn’t the time to wing it, I’ll say that. There will be other things we need to prepare for as well.”

  “So, we just hunker down and wait?” Christopher asked.

  Considered this. “Yeah.”

  Everyone looked at me. “That was easy,” Chuckie said.

  I shrugged. “It’s a chess game. We’re black. We’ve just made our move in reaction to white’s. Time to wait for them to make their next move. Because I don’t think the protests are that move. I think they’re just filler and distraction, and we’ve been distracted enough. Besides, I’d love to actually see my daughter for more than a second, and we could all use whatever downtime we can grab.”

  “Are you sure we’re not going to be attacked in the next fifteen minutes?” Christopher asked.

  Thought about what Mom had said. “We all face danger all the time. Driving is a risk. Taking a walk is a risk. I’m willing to be on full alert, but also not trying to guess the next move. In part because I don’t think we can. We have two recovered androids and Chernobog. Let’s get what we can from them and see what we can rebuild or regain from her. We have the pictures from the crowd at the press conference to go through. We probably have a lot of other things that we’ve forgotten or put off. Let’s spend the time doing them versus trying to guess what our enemies are going to throw at us next.”

  “Speaking of androids, what are we going to do with the Maurers, Jenkins, and Oliver?” Jeff asked.

  “They all stay here. We’ll ask James to send teams to get their stuff.”

  “Once they move in, are they ever moving out, is my question,” Jeff grumbled.

  “Oh, the more the merrier. Let’s get everyone back here who should be and then you can practice your nomination speech.”

  Jeff sighed. “Can’t wait.”

  The doorbell to the Embassy rang and we trotted to get it. Officer Melville, along with the officers I called Larry and Curly, was there. Melville didn’t like me calling him Moe, but the other two guys were either flattered by the Three Stooges comparisons or were really named Larry and Curly.

  There were other police on the street, moving the protestors back and off our property, as well as getting them off the street.

  Prince greeted us with great joy, while sharing that our separation had seemed almost eternal and he was thrilled to see us.

  While we got our three officers and their respective dogs into rooms, the rest of the Embassy staff and related personnel returned via floater gates. Within a short time, things were humming along as if the last day and a half hadn’t really happened.

  It was great to get Jamie back and be a family. Jeff or I carried her around, and she and Mous-Mous had a nice little reunion. There hadn’t seemed to be a real reason she’d had her Poof go with me, and I mentioned that to her.

  “Mous-Mous made the things go away,” Jamie said.

  “What things?”

  “The ones that want to take Fairy Godfather ACE away.”

  “But they didn’t come to visit us today.”

  She hugged Mous-Mous. “Because Mous-Mous is a good Poof!” The Poof purred loudly and they nuzzled each other.

  Decided now wasn’t the time to argue this or ask more questions, especially because I’d seen those shimmers when we were in the desert. Meaning that Jamie could be 100% right. And she’d said things, plural, meaning that there was a good chance Sandy had friends or co-workers of some kind following up on his work. How fantastic for all of us.

  “Okay, Jamie-Kat, whatever you say.” Wondered if I was right in thinking we should take some breathing room, especially under these potentially new circumstances.

  She stopped nuzzling the Poof and looked at me. “You’re right, Mommy. We can wait for the next move.” Then she turned back to the Poof.

  Thanks, ACE, I said in my head. I didn’t expect a response, which was good, because I didn’t get one. But Jamie hugged me, and I figured that was from her and ACE both. And these days, that was good enough for me.

  CHAPTER 86

  THE WEEK FLEW BY. I spent most of my free time with Jamie and the pets, which Prince felt included himself. Officer Melville was okay with this, mostly because I didn’t have all that much free time.

  In addition to the steady stream of protestors outside our doors, we had a steady stream of politicians coming through those doors. Armstrong and McMillan, of course, and Nathalie, but also others big in the party in some way.

  Culver and Gadoire were over all the time, as were other lobbyists, but, interestingly enough, none of the other Dealers of Death Vance had told me about. Presumably they’d thrown in with the now Cleary-Kramer ticket and were avoiding us. Which was okay with me.

  Culver took it upon herself to work with Nathalie and Pierre to determine my “color.” She felt it was vital that I have one, and Pierre agreed, meaning that deal was sealed. And, naturally, my color couldn’t be black or white.

  Sure, when forced to wear only the Armani Fatigues, I longed for other colors. But being told I was going to be choosing one color and sticking with it pretty much for the foreseeable future seemed like a cruel irony.

  Though I begged for green, that was turned down flat. Apparently green was only okay for other people or holidays. Pierre called in our designer, Akiko, and she, traitor that she was, also turned down green.

  We finally all agreed on blue. Or rather, the four of them chose blue and I said okay. But not just any blue. An iced sky blue was considered to be the right color for me. This vital decision made, it was time for Akiko to whip up something for me to wear.

  On this I put a foot down. I refused to wear a fancy dress, because precedent said that when I was really dressed up, I was going to end up attacked and bedraggled. Nathalie backed me on this one, and I was allowed to wear a suit.

  Crazed with success, I put the other foot down and insisted the suit jacket and skirt had to be black, leaving only the blouse to be blue. This was met with approval as a “test run” of the color. Decided this was one for the win column and quietly rejoiced.

  The rest of my work time was spent in a variety of “fun” ways. Raj, Oliver, and Jenkins had me practicing several prepared speeches and peppered me with both prepared and surprise questions so that I’d be prepared for anything. Prepared—that was the PR and press watchword for Mission: Convention.

  Jeff and I, along with the rest of our delegation, got to review the pictures Serene, Vance, and I had taken of the mob of reporters to ensure that we could identify our suspected Yates progeny should they show up at the convention.

  Spent time hanging out with Hacker International Plus One to ensure that we got what we wanted from Chernobog and so I could set up what the Dingo would need to cancel her contract. Siler had been right—she and I definitely had an understanding. She and Olga had made a sort of peace brokered by White, so Olga and Adriana were over a lot, too, and this helped me get the agreements from Chernobog I needed.

  Speaking of Siler and agreements made with assassins, I spent a good deal of time wondering where in the heck Buchanan, Siler, the Dingo Dog, and Surly Vic actually were. While they’d checked in via phone—and the Dingo had agreed to the terms I’d brokered with Chernobog—they hadn’t shown up physically. Buchanan insisted they were all fine, himself in particular, but it was still a little unsettling to have him gone.

  So I had a lot to occupy me during this short time before our big sh
ow, but even so, the time flew by and before I knew it, the convention was starting.

  The National Convention was scheduled to run for four days. Though Jeff had to be there pretty much the entire time, mercifully, I wasn’t required until the last day. This was supposedly because I was being saved as a “big deal” for the last night. I figured it was so that I would have fewer opportunities to say the wrong things to the wrong people. Not that I wanted to be over there anyway. Plus it gave me extra time to prep and stress and worry about Jeff.

  Christopher wasn’t part of our daily delegation, though White, as the former Pontifex, was. As was Amy, since she had sway in the legal and business world, the Gaultier name, and a great deal of public speaking experience.

  Doreen and Abigail were also going to represent our principality, Mrs. Maurer was going along as well, to represent the “we’ve changed sides” standpoint, Brian Dwyer was going to represent NASA’s support of our ticket, and of course Caroline was there with McMillan.

  Naturally, Gower was part of the delegation, and Reader, Tim, Claudia, Lorraine, and the flyboys were there as well, to represent but mostly to protect everyone else. Similarly, Kevin Lewis was going as part of the P.T.C.U. and he promised me that everyone would be focused on protecting Jeff. And Chuckie, Len, and Kyle were also part of the protection section of our delegation, as were the Barones.

  Raj, as our Embassy Public Relations Minister, had a huge role, and he had several other troubadours helping him as well. We had my troubadour “double,” Francine, in reserve, in case of emergencies, meaning she was with the delegation, but mostly in the green room, hanging out.

  I had Rahmi and Rhee shape-shift to look like Dazzlers, so they could fit in with the delegation as well. Them I gave specific instructions to protect Jeff at all costs and to figure that somewhere along the way he was going to get attacked. Prayed I wasn’t sending them in to be a two-woman demolition team, but they assured me they were clear on what they should and shouldn’t do.