by Gini Koch
“Gladys, have you ever heard the human term, ‘put a cap in yo ass’?”
“You open new avenues for all of Centaurion Division regularly, Commander. Am sending briefing materials down to you now.”
Great. The so-called light reading. There were many times I wondered if Gladys hated me for some reason, though everyone insisted that she just liked having fun with her job. Since she was the Head of Security, you’d think that would entail being helpful to the Head of Airborne, but that seemed to be mood-based, hers and mine.
A knock sounded, and several competent-looking A-Cs whose names I should have known by now but didn’t came in and started setting up the mobile video conferencing equipment I’d become familiar with these past few months. Jeff wouldn’t allow the equipment to remain in our rooms, under the impression that either Chuckie or the C.I.A. would be spying on us. Chuckie wouldn’t do so, but I couldn’t say the same for the rest of the C.I.A., so I didn’t argue.
One of them handed me a nice, thick file. I put it on my nightstand. “You guys going to stay here while we do the conferencing?”
Two of them, who looked related, nodded. “Yes, ma’am, Commander,” the one who looked older replied. He was also the one who’d given me the file I was now ignoring. “Per how Commander Martini and Mister Reynolds prefer it, we’ll have additional equipment set up in your living area. We’ll be there to maintain it, and in case anything goes wrong.” He indicated who I was now pretty sure was his younger brother in the “we.”
The rest of the A-Cs did a sound and video check, then zipped out of the room. This left me with the two brothers. I decided pretending I knew their names would be both stupid and useless, since, if they were staying, it meant one was an imageer and one was an empath, and the empath would undoubtedly pick up my confusion. Jeff said I broadcast my emotions.
The younger one grinned at me. “I’m Wayne, Commander. This is my older brother, William.”
I looked at him. He was a little bigger than his brother, and per Chuckie’s comments based on keen and alert observation, and my sometime awareness, the empaths tended to run larger in body size than the imageers.
Before I could say anything, Wayne winked at me. “Yes, I’m an empath. William’s an imageer.”
“Nice to meet you two. Officially, I mean. I’m sure I’ve met you many times I don’t remember.” I was sure I had. But every A-C I’d ever met, other than a couple of psychotic megalomaniacs, had been drop-dead gorgeous, and these two were no exception. I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but after a while, all that beauty tended to look alike.
They both laughed. “It’s okay, Commander,” William said. “We understand and don’t mind.”
Wayne grinned. “Our younger brother works gate security. I know you’ve seen him. Even though I’m sure you wouldn’t remember him.” Seeing as it was me, this was a safe bet.
William snorted. “We know this because he’s always mentioning it at family dinners. ‘I sent the Commanders to New York today, and they said thank you.’” He shook his head. “Kid’s ready to burst with pride every time he spins the dial.”
I found this somewhat endearing. Gladys certainly wasn’t ready to burst with pride any time I asked her for help. It was nice to know someone in Security thought my needs were paramount and appreciated that we were polite. “That’s very sweet.”
Both brothers made gagging noises. I found myself liking them a lot. “Commander White asked us to make sure that we’re recording everything the C.I.A. says in this meeting,” William said. “Are you alright with that, Commander?”
“Let’s see what Mister Reynolds has to say about that.”
“Let’s see if I allow you to have this meeting first.” The tone was almost as annoyed as Jeff managed when speaking about Chuckie, but for a different reason. And it wasn’t coming from my husband. Ah, yes, my Doctor From Hell had arrived.
CHAPTER 2
TITO JOINED US, looking as annoyed as he’d sounded.
“I’m not happy about this meeting, Kitty.”
“Join Jeff’s club, then. It’s necessary.”
Tito grunted while Wayne and William did a fast fade into the living room side of the Lair. Chickens.
The Lair was the only “human” set of rooms in the entire Dulce Science Center, which in its turn was home to the majority of A-Cs on the planet. The Center went fifteen stories down into the earth, and I still wasn’t sure how wide it was, it was that huge. The fifteenth floor was used for high-threat incarcerations, morgue, and some other niceties, including top-secret meetings, and, these days, our living quarters, since both Jeff and I preferred the Lair to other options.
Two younger, female A-Cs joined us. To myself I called all the female A-Cs Dazzlers, because if the men were gorgeous, the women were more so. And they were all brilliant, too. The ones considered dumb as posts by your average A-C were all Mensa material for humans. It really wasn’t fair.
They were also all, for the most part, extremely nice, which made hating them close to impossible. These two were standard Dazzler beautiful, both obviously up on the medical expertise or Tito wouldn’t have had them with him, and, sadly, just as nice as all the other Dazzlers around. No hating allowed. Always the way.
They fussed over me and thankfully helped me get dressed while Tito did his horrible array of tests I did my best to ignore. They looked as though they were in their early twenties, but it was hard to tell. As with the other A-Cs, I was fairly sure I’d seen them around before, probably down at the Isolation Level, which was where empaths had to go to regenerate, my personal empath in particular. The less said, or thought, about the isolation chambers the better, at least as far as I was concerned. They’d creeped me out from my first days with Centaurion Division and hadn’t stopped yet.
Medical horrors were still going on as the com sprang to life. “Sometime Supreme Commander Reynolds is headed down to you, Commander Martini.”
“Thanks, Gladys. Com off,” I added, just in case. “Tito, really, could you and the girls stop now?”
“Take your time, Doctor Hernandez,” Chuckie said as he joined us. “I’d rather you approve Kitty for this than cause another issue for her.”
At the sound of Chuckie’s voice, two small bundles of adorable fur made their presence known. The Poofs had been our parting gifts from the Royal Family of Alpha Four—where all our Earth A-Cs were originally from—at the end of Operation Invasion. They looked like fluffy kittens with no ears, no tails, and black button eyes. They could go Jeff-sized at a moment’s notice.
They also had hyperspeed or something like it, and they used it to get to Chuckie. Poofikins was mine and Harlie was Jeff’s, though he didn’t like to admit to the ownership. They were on Chuckie’s shoulders, purring up a storm, in an instant.
Another ball of cuteness appeared out of Chuckie’s pocket and leaped onto my shoulder. Poofs were supposed to be owned by members of the Royal Family only, which, as it so happens, I’d married into. But in the Poofs’ world, if you named it, you owned it, and during Operation Invasion, Chuckie had named his. “Hi, Fluffy. How’s a Poofy-thing doing?” I cooed. I couldn’t help it. I loved the Poofs.
Chuckie petted Harlie and Poofikins, which made all the purring get louder. “Okay,” he said finally. “Kitty and I need to work.” They all mewled at us, and then, Poof greetings over, all three of them headed back to their Poof Condo, which was really an extra-luxurious cat tree with a whole lot of levels. I wasn’t kidding; I loved the Poofs. They curled up and promptly went to sleep.
Chuckie turned back to Tito. “Is Kitty okayed to have this meeting?”
Tito nodded. “She’s fine, just don’t get her riled up.”
I noted the two Dazzlers eyeing Chuckie, which wasn’t a surprise. Dazzlers preferred brains above all other traits, and the brainier and, therefore, by human standards, geekier and nerdier a guy was, the more they wanted him. Barring him hanging out with Stephen Hawking, Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, and their
ilk, Chuckie was always going to be the smartest guy in any room. That he was tall, had dirty blond hair, blue eyes, was the rangy and muscled type, and was, frankly, quite handsome for a human, should have made him the Dazzler dude of choice. That he was a multimillionaire twice over should have been a mere cherry on top.
And yet, I’d never seen one of them throw herself at him, or even hint around that he might be able to get lucky if he even considered the possibility. It was as if there were some sort of Dazzler Free Zone around Chuckie, which I didn’t understand.
These two looked almost willing to go for it anyway, but then one of them noticed me watching them, nudged the other, and they both busied themselves with repacking Tito’s medical supplies.
I would have questioned this, but Wayne and William had rejoined us and were discussing video setups and recording with Chuckie, so I figured I’d better take an interest. “Should Tito stay for this?”
Chuckie shook his head. “No need.”
Tito shrugged. “You want me to stay anyway, Kitty?”
Part of me did. Most of me didn’t. The part that did knew Jeff would prefer Tito being around. The part that didn’t wanted some time with Chuckie where I could say, think, and feel whatever I wanted. “No, it’s okay. Wayne and William will be here.”
Tito nodded his good-byes to me and Chuckie, then he and his Dazzler assistants left. “I’d like a few minutes in private with the Commander,” Chuckie said to the brothers.
They both shrugged and left the room, closing the door behind them. I raised my eyebrow at Chuckie. “What’s up?”
He took off his overcoat, and I noted that he was dressed as if he were an A-C—black Armani suit and tie, crisp white shirt. Chuckie was amazingly good at adaptation, which was undoubtedly a reason he was in the position he was in.
He pulled out a wrapped package from the inner coat pocket. “I wanted to give you your Christmas present in private.”
Guilt, always on standby when Chuckie and I were alone, leaped to the forefront of my brain. I had no gift for Chuckie. As I thought of it, I had no gift for anyone. As the daughter of a Jewish father and a former-Catholic and also former-Mossad mother, we didn’t really celebrate the December holidays so much as sort of wave as they went by. But my friends celebrated.
Chuckie had always given me something at Christmas, usually something small and extremely thoughtful. I’d always given him something, too, at least when we were in school. As we’d gotten older, I was more sporadic. He wasn’t.
“I—”
“Don’t have anything for me,” he said with a grin. “I know. You’re very pregnant, and it’s not as if your husband would want to shop for you in this case.” He kissed my forehead. “I don’t care. Please, open it.”
This package was rectangular and felt like a book of some kind. I kicked Guilt away for a while and did as requested. It was a leather photo album, well worn. I opened it up—there were pictures of me in it, pretty much exclusively. From ninth grade up through just a couple of years ago. In fact, right up until I’d met the gang from Alpha Centauri.
“I don’t get it.” My brain and mouth so rarely worked together. One day, I’d do something about that, but pregnancy had, among its other joys, made me an almost complete space cadet, and not the kind with genius-level IQ.
Chuckie sat down on the bed next to me. “I know. I took all of these shots of you over the years.”
“I figured. Still have no clue why you’re giving me this.”
“It’s also a baby present.”
“Um, excuse me? My impression is that you give babies diapers and cute little outfits, not pictures they can’t comprehend.” Dread over impending, as-yet un-registered-for baby showers loomed. I kicked Dread over with Guilt and went back to paying attention to Chuckie.
He sighed. “Your child will want to know what your life was like before you met his or her father. I have pictures your parents and other friends don’t. So, these are my memories of you. I doubt your husband’s going to allow me to share them with your child. But if I give this to you, then I can, even if I’m not doing it personally.”
My throat felt very tight. “Oh.” I looked at the pictures more carefully. Yes, there I was, in all my awkward teenaged and young adult glory. Chuckie had been a great photographer, though he’d rarely allowed his picture to be taken. “You’re not in any of these.”
“Can’t put anything past you.”
“When did you know there were aliens who could read people through their pictures?”
“Not as long as my aversion to being photographed would lead you to believe.” He sighed again. “I wasn’t an attractive kid, Kitty. Why have extra photographic proof?”
“You were better than you want to give yourself credit for. And you were hot from college on.”
Chuckie laughed. “Nice to know. Anyway, this is for you and your child. Martini will, I’m sure, not appreciate this.”
“There’s nothing illicit in here, so I’m sure he’ll be fine with it.” I actually wasn’t, and I knew Chuckie was probably right, but why stress myself out? I leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
He hugged me gently. “You’re welcome. Where is your husband, by the way? I expected to have a fight about getting a minute alone with you.”
“Called to Paris for some sort of emergency. All of Alpha Team is there other than me, Tito, and Richard.”
Chuckie’s eyes narrowed. “That’s interesting.” He looked at the screens. “Good, there are enough. I’ll want to see if we can connect with Euro Base after we talk to my people.”
“Fine and dandy. I get why we’re doing this meeting—I fainted as my introduction to these people last time, and that was the entire agenda. But I don’t understand why you wanted to do this now.”
“These people need a diplomatic touch your husband seems unable or unwilling to muster. I can’t blame him for not wanting to, but we don’t have a lot of choice in who we have to deal with. They want reassurances no one from Centaurion Division has seen fit to give them. The Agency is about to go to a skeleton crew for the holidays. I want this settled and these people off my back before everyone disappears. And then I want my own questions answered privately.”
“Like what is Alpha Team doing in Paris?” I put the photo album into the nightstand drawer, thought about it, then put the big stack of briefing materials over it. Why upset Jeff if I could avoid it?
“Maybe.” He looked at his watch, then around the room. “I’m actually more concerned about other issues.”
“Like what?”
“Things that have been bothering me. And should have been bothering you, your husband, and the rest of Alpha Team for a good long while.”
I pondered and came up with nothing. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Chuckie sighed, stood up, and wandered the room. “I’d like to know how it is that the traitors in the A-Cs’ midst haven’t been detected. By, say, the strongest empath and the strongest imageer on the planet. Otherwise known as your husband and his cousin.”
CHAPTER 3
A-CS HAD VARIOUS TALENTS that, to humans, were amazingly impressive. Not every A-C got them, but those who did had to learn how to handle them. Empaths, imageers, and troubadours were normally male, with scientific and medical aptitudes and talents falling to the females in general.
Dream readers, like Paul Gower, who was the Head of Recruitment, aka the Pontifex’s right-hand man, and also Jeff’s cousin, were rare, and could be either sex. The cousin Chuckie was referring to, however, was Christopher White, who was the strongest imageer on the planet, just as Jeff was the strongest empath. While empaths felt emotions, imageers were able to manipulate any image, and also know all about a person by touching the image. Christopher’s explanation for this was that pictures copied the soul and mind as well as the body.
Due to the drugs a fun group of megalomaniacs had given him during what I not so fondly called Operation Drug Addict, Jeff’s
empathic talents were greatly expanded. He could feel more emotions from farther away and interpret their meanings more accurately. He could also read my mind. Just mine, so far. That I knew of or he’d told me, anyway. Meaning Chuckie’s question carried even more weight and probably a lot more suspicion on his part.
“I have no idea. I mean, they can’t lie.”
Chuckie shook his head. “No. Most of them can’t lie. Clearly, some of them can. The woman who was working with the Yates-Mephistopheles in-control superbeing certainly was lying.”
“Good old Beverly. I hit her with a baseball bat.” Ah, memories. Operation Fugly never seemed all that long ago.
“In the head. Yes, your mother told me. My point is that she’d managed to lie to everyone for years. And if she had accomplices, your mother hasn’t found them, and that means they know how to lie to both other A-Cs and humans. Per your husband, he doesn’t think any A-C can lie to him, based on emotional responses. Clearly, he’s wrong.”
I considered this. “Is he? I mean, they’re great at avoiding the question. And, if no one went up to Beverly and said, ‘Hey, are you a traitor?’ then she’d never have had a reason to lie.”
“Maybe. It’s something we need to work on. Something, I might add, your husband is resistant to.”
“You think there are more A-C traitors lurking about?”
“Yes.” The way he said it, I didn’t question. Chuckie’s nickname all through school had been Conspiracy Chuck. I hated it, but it was accurate. I preferred to call him the Conspiracy King. It was not only a more positive spin, but, as my new life among the A-Cs had proved, daily, Chuckie was always on target. Experience showed if Chuckie was positive, Chuckie was right—and he sounded positive. How depressing.
“I was sort of hoping Beverly was an anomaly.”
“I’m sure you were. From now on, I want you looking for the liars, not assuming there aren’t any.”
I heaved a sigh. “No problem. I’m sure I’ll have time once I’m on maternity leave.”