Kitty Katt 11: Alien Separation

by Gini Koch

  He nodded. “I’ll do that if . . .”

  “You don’t have a lot of bargaining power with us,” Reader pointed out.

  “If you protect me from whoever’s trying to kill me. Being deposed, okay, I suppose. But I don’t want to die. Yes, I’m a clone, but . . . I’m still a person, I’m still real, still me. And I don’t want to stop being me.”

  “You aren’t exactly someone worth keeping around,” Abigail snarled.

  “Oh, let’s not sell Mister Mind Control short, okay? He’s not effective on any of us, for which he should be grateful because I’d have already broken his neck, but he’s going to work some magic on our terrible predators out there. I’d call that a modicum of worth.”

  “Promise me,” 2.0 said. “Promise me you’ll protect me. Or else there’s no reason for me to help you, if I’m just going to die anyway. How you’ll kill me will be better.”

  “Why would you say that, if you don’t know who’s actually trying to kill you?” Fancy asked.

  “I don’t know who they are—they’re invisible to me. But . . . we hear things. Footsteps where none are, low laughter, quiet banging in an empty room, small things missing, things rearranged with no explanation, food gone, and not due to her raids.” He nodded toward Fancy.

  “That sounds like a haunting,” Reader said. “And let me just share that I don’t believe in ghosts.”

  “Yes, but . . . it also sounds like something else.” During Operation Destruction Clarence Valentino had “hidden” like this in the Bahraini Embassy, freaking everyone out. He’d done so on purpose. “I think we may have a superfast being or beings around who are potentially up to no good.” And they’d have to be Surcenthumain-enhanced fast in order to not be seen by 2.0, who was an A-C clone, or the Free Women, who all had hyperspeed.

  “It could be something else,” Rahmi said.

  “Yeah? What?”

  “A superconsciousness, like those who visited us on Earth.”

  Let that sit on the air for a bit. “Okay,” I said slowly. “Could be. But that seems a little too . . . capricious for the ones we’ve met. Let’s assume a corporeal being for now—versus a ghost or superconsciousness—and go back to focusing on getting out of this castle in one, living piece. So, yes, Ronnie, we’ll do our best to protect you as long as you return the favor and do your best to protect us. Start with putting your snakipedes in the next room to sleep or sending them home. Your choice, but make it snappy.”

  He nodded and closed his eyes for about a minute. “They’re asleep,” he said as he opened his eyes. “It’s simpler than sending them home. They came expecting to feed. If I can’t send them to food source, then letting them sleep is better.”

  “Who goes first?” Reader asked. “Putting him in the center doesn’t protect us.”

  “I will go first,” Rahmi said. “And Rhee will go last. Our staffs will keep the Horrors at bay better than any other weapon.”

  “Bullets work really well, but it takes a lot of them, and it’s noisy, so I’m okay with that plan. Ronnie, should anything hurt either one of the princesses, you, and you alone, will be directly responsible for whatever kind of horrible war thing happens. And while you might want that, trust me when I say that we’ll make you pay for it in a really nasty way. Nastier than anything we’ve suggested so far, I might add.”

  “I suggest we stay close together,” 2.0 said. “And move swiftly. I can’t keep them asleep forever.”

  Rahmi took the lead, Wilbur with her, then Reader and Ginger followed, with me and Fancy holding onto 2.0 tightly and Abigail right behind him, with Rhee at the rear. We were all close together and stayed that way as we entered the room.

  There wasn’t a lot of sneaking room in between the two giant snakipedes, but we managed it, in a slow and winding way. Couldn’t speak for the others, but I had to control my screaming impulse the entire time. However, terrifying though it was, the snakipedes didn’t wake up.

  Resisted the urge to kill them where they slept. They were animals—horrible animals, created animals, but animals nonetheless. They were doing things that were in their nature. And while they’d have eaten us if they’d found us asleep, we weren’t them.

  Got out of the room and moved faster down the hallway, though there were a couple of snakipedes here, too. Also snoozing, for which I thanked anyone and everyone who might be paying attention.

  Clustered together and staying very quiet we wended our way through the castle, past more sleeping snakipedes than I cared to count.

  Maybe it was because 2.0 had mentioned it, but after a short while I truly felt like I was being watched. We reached a room miraculously devoid of giant flying snakes, and we all took a little breather. “I wish you hadn’t said you felt like you were being watched,” Reader said to 2.0.

  “You felt it, too?” Rhee asked.

  “I’m sure we all did,” 2.0 said. “Because we are being watched.”

  “Or else you can affect us and make us think so, power of suggestion assisted by mind influence and all that.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Look, the concentration it takes to keep hungry animals asleep while we’re trying to get out takes me to my limit. I don’t have the energy to try to affect people I’ve already had no effect on. Some of us know when to stop banging our heads on a wooden door.”

  “Blah, blah, blah. And some of us don’t trust you at all. But anyway, we’re all agreed we felt the creepy?”

  All the heads nodded. “But I don’t feel it here,” Fancy said.

  Group consensus—no one felt like they were being watched in this room. Looked around. Just another room in the castle, a room whose purpose I couldn’t figure out. “So, what’s special about this room? As in, why couldn’t someone see us or follow us or whatever in here?”

  “It’s an oratory,” Reader said. “The private chapel for the lord of the manor.”

  “James, your hidden depths never cease to amaze me. Ronnie, are you the prayerful type?”

  “Not really.”

  “So, whoever’s watching us either can’t see into this room because it’s protected, or they want us to think that they can’t see us when we’re here, so we’ll get superstitiously freaked out.”

  “Who would do that?” Rhee asked.

  “Someone who’s testing us.” Considered the options. Could be the Sandy and the Superconsciousness Seven, but I doubted it. They liked to show up, be all impressive, and boss beings around. Definitely wasn’t ACE’s style. Was Algar’s, but I knew this wasn’t him. Couldn’t be Naomi, since she wasn’t allowed to be near us, in the cosmic sense. This also wasn’t the Z’porrah’s style. Had no idea what style the other planets around here were fond of, nor if this could be an Ancient spy, but it didn’t feel right. This was totally Siler’s style, but he wasn’t here.

  Had to stop thinking in a straight line. The question wasn’t who was watching us or not. The question was—who had something to gain by making Ronaldo 2.0, aka the King of Beta Eight, think he was being watched and turning him paranoid? And the corollary question was, who could do it all while being invisible?

  The answer wasn’t anyone native to this planet. We’d met all the sentient races, at least as far as anyone had mentioned. Siler wasn’t here, and his blending ability seemed incredibly rare, and was probably due to experimentation more than natural genetics. And no one had been playing these games with me and my team here until 2.0 had mentioned being watched. Meaning whoever it was could hear us, too.

  Glanced around the room again. It was by far the smallest room we’d been in so far. Thought about when we’d felt like we were being watched. It was never in an area where we were really cramped in with snakipedes. Every place we’d mentioned was one where we had a lot more space around us, snakipedes or no.

  As Sherlock Holmes and my “uncle” the top assassin in the business both said, once you
eliminated the impossible, whatever remained, however improbable, was the truth. We lived in a universe where impossible didn’t seem to exist, however. Even so, there were a lot of improbables I could eliminate for a variety of reasons, such as ghosts and Siler. Meaning the obvious answer was, despite what logic would want to tell you, the right one.

  Looked at Wilbur, bent down and gave him a pet. “I know there are a lot of smells here,” I said softly, as I ruffled his neck and head bristles. “But can Wilbur find someone who doesn’t belong? Not a snakipede, and not those with Kitty, but someone who’s hiding from us? He’s probably moving very fast, too, but we might not feel him. His smell will be all over, because he’s been here for some time. It could be in this room, too, but he’s not in the room right now. Search quietly, though. Kitty’s bet is that he’s in the hall, but we need to be sure.”

  Wilbur gave a very quiet honk and began to snuffle the air in a different way than he had before. Before he’d been looking for the safe way out, so his nose had been focused on finding our scents again and avoiding snakipede scent. The castle was loaded with smells, so he had to be selective.

  Continued petting him and looked back to the others. “Let’s take a few moments in here to relax and figure out what we’re going to do next where there are no snakipedes or something creeping us out. I think we’ve earned the rest.”

  The others stared at me. Reader recovered the quickest. “Ah, okay?”

  Had to give a clue, at least to Reader, but not tip off the person I was sure was close by and definitely listening. “Yeah. It’s kind of Old Home Week with Ronnie here. Always shocking to come face-to-face with someone you thought was dead, after all. Kind of haven’t had time to collect from that. And doesn’t this all kind of remind you of Operation Destruction? You know, when we met Mona, Khalid, Oren, and Jakob?”

  Reader opened his mouth—to tell me he didn’t see the connection I was pretty sure—then I saw him catch on. “Oh! Right. Yeah. Let’s rest, you’re right. We could make a mistake if we go rushing off like we’re fighting ghosts.”

  Mercifully, the girls had learned not to ask questions when we were being strange, and Fancy’s expression told me she knew Reader and I were passing code. 2.0, on the other hand, wasn’t as tuned in to the program.

  “What are you blathering about? We need to get the hell out of here before I tire out and lose control.”

  “Oh, we will, we will. Patience, Ronnie. Patience. It’s a virtue, so I hear.”

  2.0 opened his mouth, to be snide, I was sure, but before he could say anything else, Wilbur lunged at the doorway. Reader let go of Ginger at the same time, and she bounded over just in time to slam into the man’s chest as Wilbur latched onto his leg.

  The screams weren’t all that I’d hoped for, seeing as I knew they were going to wake the snakipedes up, but we’d deal with that later.

  Wilbur dragged the screaming man back into the room, Ginger still on his chest with her claws still in his chest, and I closed and locked the hallway door, while Fancy did the same with the other door that we’d originally been planning to go through.

  Put my foot right on his throat. Wisely, he shut up.

  Took a good look at him. Always nice to be right. “Clarence Valentino, how do you do?”

  CHAPTER 72

  CLARENCE STARED AT ME. Though I knew it wasn’t the real Clarence. Him, I’d killed. As with Ronaldo 2.0, this Clarence didn’t look totally right. Clearly the cloning equipment on this planet was much less refined than what they had going on back home. Go Earth Evil Geniuses.

  This also indicated that whatever cloning process they used on the Ancient and/or Z’porrah home world that LaRue had used to make the Ronaldo who’d come back to Earth with her was exceptionally good, because that man had never looked off, as 2.0 and this version of Clarence did, and he’d been more powerful than his original.

  “How did you catch me?” The Clarence Clone asked.

  “I’m smarter than you. Who are you working for and when was the last time you checked in with them?”

  He shot me a derisive look that I remembered. Hadn’t missed it. “As if I’d tell you anything.”

  “Ronnie, time to go to work, dude.”

  “If I focus on him I can’t stop the Horrors.”

  Listened. “I hear slithering and such. Assume Clarence here woke them up screaming. We need his intel more, anyway. We can toss him to them as a snack once we’re done.”

  “Why would I tell you anything if you’re just going to kill me?” The Clarence Clone sounded legitimately shocked.

  “Because spies who don’t answer questions are just dead weight. How long have you been on this planet?”

  He looked confused. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean how many days, nights, weeks, months, or years have you been on Beta Eight? Or do you think you’re on Earth?”

  “No, I know I’m not on Earth. It’s just a stupid question. I’ve been here forever.”

  “Ronnie, seriously, some mind control on him, right now. I want him giving me the truth, and trust me, I will know if he’s lying.”

  “Then why do you need me?” 2.0 muttered.

  Clarence’s expression changed and became much more amiable. “What do you want to know?” he asked in a friendly tone. Either he and 2.0 had practiced this to lull us into some bizarre form of false security, or the mind control was working.

  “How long have you been on this planet?” I asked nicely.

  “Oh, forever. This is my home.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “In the little room way downstairs.”

  Thought about it. “Do you mean the torturers’ room, right off the dungeons?”

  “Yes. No one goes there and I’ve made it very comfy.”

  Well, good to know that 2.0 really wasn’t torturing prisoners and such. Score one for us not killing him. So far.

  “Do you have a wife?”

  His brow crinkled. “I . . . think so? Maybe I don’t. I don’t know.” He gave a little laugh. “She’s not here, is she?”

  “No. How about kids? Remember having children?”

  “Maybe? Not here, though, are they? I’m alone,” he added plaintively. “Ronaldo isn’t allowed to be my friend.”

  “Is that why you were playing games with him?”

  The Clarence Clone nodded. “Can the animals stop hurting me?”

  “Uh, sure. Ginger, Wilbur, let him up. Rahmi, Rhee, be ready to club him in case this is a ploy.” The animals and the princesses moved into guard positions.

  The Clarence Clone sat up. “Thanks. I hurt.”

  “Get used to them not caring,” 2.0 muttered.

  “Ronnie, be a good boy and we’ll care.”

  “Who’s she?” Reader asked, pointing to me.

  The Clarence Clone squinted at me. Then he looked shocked. “Shealla?”

  “Wow. Yes, that’s right.” Maybe he was faking. But the Clarence I’d known hadn’t ever been smooth enough to pretend to like me and he’d never, ever pretended to be impressed by me, either. “Clarence, have you been to the top of the All Seeing Mountain?”

  “Yes. Everyone goes there. I like it there. I can see forever there.”

  “Why does he sound so . . . young?” Abigail asked softly.

  “I’ve told him we’re his friends,” 2.0 replied in kind. “So he’s not trying to sound tough.”

  The timeline had been rushed due to our successfully surviving Operation Confusion. LaRue had to grab the almost dead Ronaldo and captured Clarence from Earth, go back to the Alpha Centauri system and activate the clones, then take off for the Z’porrah home world in a very short period of time.

  Ronaldo’s clone had clearly been farther along than Clarence’s. Clarence had probably “earned” a clone somewhere during Operation Confusion, whereas Ronaldo was int
imately involved in things earlier. But LaRue was out of time, so she’d activated him before the brain was advanced or downloaded or whatever. But it did pay to check.

  “Clarence, do I have another name you know?”

  “They call you Kitty,” he said, pointing to the others. “So that’s your other name.”

  “Yes, it is. Have we met before?”

  “I . . . don’t know. I want to say yes, but I think I just know you from the Mountain.” He looked at the others. “The Venida! I didn’t realize it was you. And, the Leader of the Nihalani, too!” He sounded excited. As if he was meeting the Gods. Not as if he was chatting it up with family members he didn’t care for. Not as if he was talking to people he knew. A-Cs in general couldn’t lie to save their or anyone else’s lives and in particular there was no way the Clarence we all knew could fake anything this well.

  “Clarence, why are you here?” Abigail asked.

  “To protect our interests.”

  “Whose interests?” Abigail kept her voice relaxed.

  “Ours.”

  “Who is part of that? Part of ‘ours’?”

  “I . . .” He took a deep breath. “Mine, Ronaldo’s, and . . . hers.”

  “Is she LaRue or Zenoca?” I asked.

  “When is she coming home?” He sounded lost and hopeful.

  “Not sure. What’s her name?”

  “She . . . said I don’t get to know it yet. I’ll get to know her name when she comes home.”

  Interesting, in the typical bizarre bad guy way. “Okay. Why, if you’re supposed to protect Ronaldo’s interests, couldn’t you tell him you were here?”

  “She doesn’t want us to corrupt.” He said this as if it was something he’d been told, not something he actually understood.

  “Did you make anyone disappear?” Reader asked.

  “No. When the others laid the traps I avoided them. I’m only supposed to make sure that Ronaldo behaves, I don’t have to do anything with the others who are here.”

  2.0 looked shocked. “Behave? What do you mean by that?”