Alien Proliferation

by Gini Koch

  He laughed. “No, you won’t. You’re going to be busy with the baby. But I know you’ll still be able to think and observe. Just be aware—at least one A-C’s fooled both your husband and his cousin, and if one can do it, so can others.”

  I got the impression Chuckie wasn’t done, but it didn’t matter because we were interrupted by Wayne. “I’m sorry, but we have incoming transmissions from Langley.”

  Chuckie nodded. “Keep some of the screens free and blocked from them, will you?”

  Wayne looked at me. “Commander?”

  “Do what he says.” Wayne shrugged and went out of the room. “Why do you want some screens free?”

  “I want to be able to speak to your husband and White, if necessary.” Chuckie’s jaw was tensed.

  “You don’t like whoever’s coming on, do you?”

  “They don’t like me, either, so it’s fair.” Chuckie didn’t sit. Of course, there was only the bed, and maybe he didn’t want to give the impression we were having an affair. Then again, maybe he just wanted to feel that he was in a position of strength.

  “Are they clear on what we do over here?”

  “Yes. They all have top-level security clearances.” Chuckie didn’t sound happy about this. The main screen in the room came to life. There were three men and one woman in the room. I vaguely remembered them—fainting tended to wipe out the little details for me.

  “Reynolds,” one of them said. He was sitting—they all were—but he looked as if he’d be about Chuckie’s height, though he was built more like Jeff, on the brawny side. Otherwise he was fairly average in looks, with dark hair and eyes. “Missus Martini.”

  “That’s Commander Martini, Cooper,” Chuckie snapped, eyes flashing. I got a little more alert. Chuckie was normally hard to rile and harder to read. That he was betraying this much emotion toward Cooper was proof positive he hated this guy.

  Cooper smirked. “My apologies. Commander Martini. When are you due?”

  “In a couple of weeks.” Tito hadn’t given me too clear a due date, but he felt the baby wouldn’t come until sometime in January.

  “Really? You look ready to pop.” Cooper said this with what I assumed was supposed to be a friendly, joking tone and expression. But our video equipment was top of the line, and his smile didn’t reach his eyes. I decided to show solidarity with Chuckie and hate this guy, too.

  “Thanks so much.”

  The woman with them rolled her eyes. She was older, dressed severely, with short hair and cat’s-eye glasses. “Men. Commander Martini, congratulations on your upcoming happy event. I didn’t get a chance to congratulate you when we met before.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. And thank you, I’m looking forward to it.” I had no idea who this woman was. I felt well within my rights to blame my pregnancy for this, even though I proved every day that I didn’t remember names unless I felt I had a real need to. And, with this crew, I clearly hadn’t felt the need.

  “This is Missus Madeline Cartwright,” Chuckie said. “She’s a liaison to the Pentagon. This is Esteban Cantu,” he pointed to a rather handsome Latin man. “He’s the head of our Antiterrorism unit.”

  “Reporting to my mother?”

  “Separate,” Cantu said quickly, but with a charming smile. “Your mother controls a very separate agency.” This was somewhat true. My mother, as I’d found out during my introduction to the A-Cs, aka Operation Fugly, was actually the head of the P.T.C.U. No ever told me anything until they absolutely had to. This news hadn’t reached me until I was twenty-seven. In some ways, I dreaded what my family would share with me when I hit thirty.

  “Vincent Armstrong,” the last man said with a little wave. “Head of the Senate’s subcommittee on anti-American activities.” He was older and had the Senior Senator from Wherever look going.

  “What state are you from?” I asked.

  “Florida,” he replied with a charming smile. I faked a return smile. My last experience with a politician from Florida had resulted in Jeff getting drugged, us breaking up, and me almost getting run over in the middle of the Arizona desert. I didn’t have too many fond memories from most of Operation Drug Addict, and the worst ones were of Leventhal Reid. I managed not to ask if Armstrong knew him, because, of course he would have. Whether he liked him, was an intimate crony, or was one with Reid’s plan to turn the A-Cs into the War Division were probably not the right questions for a pre-Christmas chat.

  “Our time’s limited,” Chuckie said, saving me from having to make any comment. “Let’s please get things settled so Commander Martini can rest and prepare for the birth of her child.”

  Cooper nodded. “We’d like to know what Centaurion Division is putting in place to cover while you and your husband are on maternity leave, Commander.”

  “The rest of Alpha Team will be stepping in. Commander White will be in charge.”

  Cartwright looked mildly concerned, but the three men looked pleased, Cooper in particular. Cartwright opened her mouth, but Cooper spoke before she could. “Excellent. I’m sure you’re fine with that, Reynolds?”

  “Yes,” Chuckie said slowly. “But I believe Missus Cartwright had a question?”

  She nodded. “I’d like to know what the protocols will be in case of an emergency, Commander Martini.”

  “Define emergency. We have all sorts that crop up.”

  “An emergency that threatens Centaurion Division, such as clustered superbeing activity, like what’s going on in Paris right now.”

  CHAPTER 4

  CHUCKIE AND I BOTH managed to control our reactions. I couldn’t speak for him, but it took effort on my part. “How is it you’re aware of that?” My father had always told me that if I didn’t want to answer a question or didn’t know how to reply to one, asking another question in return was a great way to handle the situation.

  Everyone other than Cooper looked a little uncomfortable. Cooper’s eyes narrowed, just a bit. “We’re concerned about Centaurion’s ability to handle things while you and your husband are . . . incapacitated.”

  “Yes, so you said earlier. But you didn’t answer my question.” I hadn’t answered theirs, either, but that wasn’t important now.

  “Yes, I’d like to know that as well,” Chuckie said. “Since nothing in Europe affects any of your main day-to-days.”

  “What are their main focuses?” I asked him quietly.

  “South America mostly.”

  “Paraguay in particular?” I asked, watching them, not Chuckie. All four of them looked as though they were reading my lips, and none of them looked happy with what they saw. It figured. Paraguay had been cropping up in one way or another for the past year and a half. I still had no idea why it was seemingly so important, but I had a feeling I was going to have to find out.

  “Not more than any other country,” Chuckie said, but I could tell he was saying this because he, too, realized they were reading our lips. I knew him better than anyone, and what his tone said was I was right on and he wanted me to shut up about it.

  “Okay.” I smiled brightly at everyone on-screen. “So, why is it you’re aware of what’s going on in Europe right now?”

  Cartwright shrugged. “Our people keep us apprised. We’re clear that the situation was dire enough that all of Alpha Team was called out. We’re concerned that if something similar happens, your husband, the leader of the A-C military, will be unavailable.”

  “If he’s needed, Jeff will be there, baby or no baby.”

  Cooper shook his head. “I’m sure Commander White can handle anything while the Commanders Martini are enjoying maternity leave.”

  Cartwright glared at the back of his head. “John, you’re the one who wanted this meeting. I’d prefer to get all our questions on the table, both ours and theirs, before we power down for the holidays.”

  Cooper shrugged. “They have a plan in place. That’s good enough for me.”

  Cantu smiled at me. “I’m sure there are other protocols in place when Ce
ntaurion Division feels threatened?”

  “The usual. Lockdown, strike teams. You know, what the rest of the government does.” I didn’t know why they were asking this. None of the questions seemed to warrant either a meeting or a diplomatic touch. I wasn’t sharing anything new, and they weren’t asking anything remotely newsworthy. We had a personal paparazzo who asked better questions than these in-the-know people were. “What about my having a baby—which I have to add the majority of women do—is causing such concerns within the C.I.A.?”

  “Interspecies birth is quite an event,” Armstrong said. He made it sound like a campaign slogan.

  “It’s happened already,” I reminded them. “We have living, healthy hybrids. You’ve met at least one of them, I’m sure.”

  “Mister Gower,” Armstrong said with a nod. “Yes. However, at the time of his and his siblings’ births, his parents weren’t among the most influential members of Centaurion Division.”

  “We’ve had sitting presidents with little kids. I really don’t see what you think is going to happen, other than a lot of diaper changes and feedings. Both sets of our parents are alive, healthy, and practically banging down our doors to be first in line to take baby duty.”

  Chuckie turned around and gave me the “are you crazy, is that your problem?” look. Sure enough, Cantu jumped on it. “So the head of the Presidential Terrorism Control Unit will also be indisposed.”

  “Dude, my mother probably wasn’t indisposed when I was born, let alone now.” By now, if someone shared that Mom had taken down a contingent of terrorists in between contractions, it wouldn’t have surprised me. “I’m really not feeling what it is you’re all going for.” An idea dawned. “Do you want Ch-, ah, Mister Reynolds, to take over or something?”

  Armstrong shook his head. “We’re . . . aware of your close friendship. I’m sure Mister Reynolds, like the rest of those closely associated with Centaurion Division, will be distracted by your baby’s arrival.”

  This was getting ludicrous. Chuckie could multitask better than anyone. And I knew they knew it. They wanted something. But I had no idea what, and I didn’t really get the impression Chuckie did, either.

  “Standard protocols will be in place,” he said firmly. “Commander White will be assuming control of all Field and Imageering if necessary. There are plenty of people to step in if, for some reason, the new parents aren’t available. Either tell us what it is you’re hoping to hear, or stop wasting my time.”

  Cooper smirked. “Got it. I’m satisfied. Everyone else?” There were general nods and assents. “Then we’ll let you get back to whatever it is you do, Reynolds. Enjoy the holidays.” He made a kill gesture and the screen went blank.

  Chuckie went to the door. “Make sure they’re really cut off,” he told Wayne and William. The all clear was given. “Get Commanders Martini and White on-screen as fast as possible, please. Presuming they’re not in the middle of a parasitic attack.”

  He turned back to me. “That was interesting. Any guess as to what they were trying for?”

  “None. That’s your bailiwick.”

  He grimaced. “Yeah. I have no clue. Which makes me very, very nervous.”

  William stuck his head in. “Mister Reynolds, have an issue with getting the Commanders on-screen for you.”

  CHAPTER 5

  THE SCREENS LIT UP. There were a lot of explosions going on. Half the screens showed some nasty-looking monsters. The other half showed some really impressive fireworks. I didn’t see any humans or A-Cs I could identify. From what I could tell, though, the monsters were being herded into the Seine.

  “Left side’s real, right side’s the imageering fake, right?” Hey, I liked to be sure.

  “Yes, Commander,” William said. He and Wayne both came into the room, the four of us watching The Creatures That Claimed Paris.

  “There’s something wrong with the superbeings.” I said this because I was thinking of them as monsters. They were, but that wasn’t the normal reaction I had to them. I saw a superbeing as something to kill, not something almost familiar.

  “I agree,” Chuckie said slowly. “Not sure what, though.”

  “They don’t seem as . . . real . . . as the superbeings I’ve seen.” I studied them. “They look a lot alike. Not as alike as the dozen we dealt with in Paraguay, right before Operation Invasion started. Differently alike.”

  Chuckie was used to me, so he didn’t comment on this. “Can you get us close-ups on the superbeings?” he asked William.

  “May I, Commander?” Wayne asked, while his brother complied with Chuckie’s request.

  “May you what?”

  He went to the drawer, pulled out the briefing papers, and handed them to Chuckie. He grinned at my expression. “It was an easy guess where they’d disappeared to.”

  Chuckie thumbed through the papers, a lot faster than I would have. I knew he was reading them. Like everything else, he was top of the class in speed-reading. He grunted after a minute or so. “Interesting. Euro Base had no prior warning of the attack. There were no rage indicators . . . no emotional indicators at all.”

  “Are they real?”

  William put his hands onto the screen. He pulled them away quickly. “Yes. They’re . . . distasteful.” This was the standard imageering reaction to touching a superbeing via their talents.

  Wayne handed him a wipe, which was the standard reaction from any A-C standing by an imageer who had to touch the superbeing images. “You’re sure?” he asked, and it was clear he wasn’t being funny.

  William looked at him. “Why do you ask?”

  “Your reaction time. You were slower than normal.”

  Chuckie’s eyes narrowed. “I hate to have to ask this, but can you touch the screens again and give us everything you can on what you get from them?”

  “Do the go-team move,” I suggested. I was greeted by blank stares from the brothers and a snort of laughter from Chuckie. “I know Wayne can feel whatever it is through William.” Jeff and Christopher had done this during Operation Fugly.

  “Ah,” Wayne said. “Sure. You up for it?” he asked his brother.

  William grimaced. “Yes.” He put his hands back on the screen. “They’re repugnant, evil, mindless—”

  “No,” Wayne said. “There’s a mind there. It’s not . . . normal.”

  “Do we consider superbeing minds to be normal?” Maybe they did. What I knew about the inner superbeing workings could fit onto a fingernail. I was all over how to kill them. I hadn’t found a real need to dig deeper—that’s what the Dazzlers were for.

  “I mean not normal for a superbeing.” Wayne looked at us over his shoulder. “There’s absolutely no rage emotion coming from them. There’s no emotion other than the desire to be obedient.”

  “Aliens,” I said instantly.

  “I don’t think so,” William said slowly.

  “No, I mean the movie Aliens. The bad people tried to make supersoldiers out of the horrible alien monsters.”

  “You’re sure you’re getting no emotional reading?” Chuckie asked Wayne.

  “Positive, sir.”

  “Me as well, sir,” William added.

  No sooner were the words out of his mouth than there were a series of explosions. The superbeings blew up. From what we could see, there were no traces left.

  Chuckie cursed while William and Wayne used their hand wipes. “Now we’ve got nothing to examine.”

  “Just like in Paraguay?”

  He turned to me. “I have no way of knowing if it was just like in Paraguay. Because there was nothing left to study. Your husband ensured that. And since he was on the scene here, I’m sure he’s ensuring all traces are gone in this instance, too.”

  “Well, it’s what we do,” I reminded him.

  “And they know that,” he muttered. He rubbed his forehead. “You two are probably the only proof we have that these weren’t normal superbeings. I’m sure no one else was monitoring like we did.”

  T
he brothers nodded. “Unlikely, sir,” William said. “Ah, what do you want us to do?”

  “Record your impressions, all of them,” Chuckie said briskly. “Leave nothing out. And then get that information to me as well as to Alpha Team. I want to be sure we have more than one copy of the data.”

  “Leave the equipment and take care of that now.” They nodded to me and zipped off. Chuckie started pacing. I knew he was thinking—I could see the conspiracy wheels turning. I could also tell he wasn’t getting anywhere. After five minutes of this, I couldn’t take it any more. “Dude, relax.”

  He shook his head. “Can’t. This is bad, and we have nothing to go on.”

  “Fine.” I patted the bed. “Sit while the wheels turn. You look seriously stressed.”

  I heard a step and a growl. “He sits and he’ll be seriously dead.”

  CHAPTER 6

  JEFF GLARED AT CHUCKIE as he walked in. “Why are you still here?”

  “Because we have a problem,” Chuckie said. He wasn’t looking at Jeff or me, and he was still pacing.

  Jeff somehow reined in the jealousy all on his own. Either he wanted to impress me, or Chuckie’s stress levels were particularly high. I figured on the latter. He shot a worried glance at Chuckie, then looked at me. “With the C.I.A.?”

  “In a way. More with what you were doing in Paris.”

  Jeff nodded. “Whatever we were fighting, they weren’t superbeings.”

  I felt all proud. “See, Chuckie? Someone other than us was monitoring the weird.”

  Chuckie heaved a sigh. “And that makes it better how?”

  “Pardon me, Mister Glass Half Empty.”

  “It doesn’t,” Jeff agreed. “We have nothing left to study.”

  “You weren’t able to contain them any other way?” Chuckie asked.

  “No. We weren’t the ones who destroyed them.”

  Chuckie spun so fast I was worried he’d fall over. “Explain that, please.”

  Jeff sighed. “It looked like normal clustered activity, only there were no emotional warnings whatsoever. There were a dozen of them. We were barely able to contain them, but they destroyed no significant property, and, as far as we can tell, no one was killed.”