Gini Koch - [Katherine Katt 08]

by Alien Research (retail) (epub)

  “They all have hyperspeed,” Raj said. “And they’ll run before they have to fight.”

  We stopped. “What now?” Jeff asked.

  “The entrance to Arlington is completely blocked by protestors,” Len said angrily. “They let the motorcycle cops through and then closed it up. I realize we still have plenty of cops with us, but they’re in as much danger from this mob as we are. And while I’d like to run these protestors down, I won’t.”

  “All troubadours out,” Raj said.

  “Everyone ready to run,” Kyle said at the same time.

  Raj and Kyle were both hooked into their own networks—Kyle had the link to those riding shotgun in each limo, Raj to all of his troubadours.

  “Be careful,” Jeff said to Francine.

  “Gosh, you do care.” She winked at me. “I’m touched.” She got out and was surrounded quickly, in part because she did look like me and enough people had seen my face in this town to think she might actually be me. Press was here and they started to assist in the mobbing, clearly under the impression Francine was me.

  Raj’s plan was simple—use the troubadours’ natural talent to sway the mob into a more positive frame of mind. It wouldn’t work for all of the crowd, but it had the potential to calm down much of it, and since the troubadours all had hyperspeed and A-C strength, they could grab people and run if they had to.

  He’d pulled in every troubadour worldwide, and there were a lot of them. Several of the limos in our procession had held only troubadours. The rest were coming from the Embassy via floater gate that landed them inside the limos that were before and behind the hearse.

  The troubadours all used hyperspeed to get out of the limos and into the crowds, so no humans saw them do it. They spread out through the crowd.

  “Encircling of the cemetery is complete,” Raj said shortly. “We have a troubadour agent every fifty feet or less around the grounds and on the bridge.”

  Our concession to the President was that the police had blocked off public access to the cemetery—if you weren’t on the guest list, you weren’t getting in. The President’s concession to us was that everyone other than those in the American Centaurion procession would be safely inside Arlington before we ever left the Embassy.

  We’d asked the police not to physically move the protestors unless they had to in order to let us through. Right now we were still at a dead stop. I couldn’t hear them, but I could tell the troubadours were starting to be effective because signs stopped waving in widening circles around them. A few signs were even tossed onto the ground.

  Other than around Francine. In addition to the press, she appeared to have scored the most virulent protestors of the bunch, which made sense since she was closest to the entrance to the cemetery. But even so, she was starting to make some headway when the man I recognized as Farley Pecker, aka the Head Asshat of the Church of Intolerance, came up behind her.

  He was between Jeff and Christopher in size, so larger than Francine all the way around. He was older, balding with white hair that was puffy on the sides. He had apple cheeks, and when you first looked at him, you didn’t realize you were looking into the face of the most intolerant person potentially in the world. I could see Clint Eastwood playing him in a movie, but only if Clint was willing to take the bad guy role.

  He shoved Francine, hard, and she stumbled into some people with signs. This didn’t look good.

  I was supposed to stay in the car, but I was near the door. And I was out of the car in a moment. I shoved him back and away from her while I pulled her away from the people he’d shoved her into at the same time.

  “Stop attacking a woman half your size, you horrible man. I realize it’s a hard concept for you, but have some respect.”

  “You’re all sinners and Jesus wants you to burn in Hell!” he shouted.

  “Aliens should all die!” someone else shared. This opened the floodgates as the usual anti-gay, anti-woman, anti-alien, anti-Jew, anti-black, anti-everything slogans were tossed at us.

  Francine and I were back-to-back, me facing the cemetery’s entrance and her facing the street and most of the crowd. She began to calmly start reciting the speech Raj had written for all the troubadours. It was all about how America was the land of opportunity, how refugees from the world and the galaxy over came to it as a haven, how America’s people were accepting and loving, how the country was founded on tolerance.

  Couldn’t have proved this last part by anyone nearby, but it was still a good, touching little speech, appealing to everyone’s better instincts. If the Asshat Church and Club 51 members had better instincts, which I wasn’t currently prepared to say they did.

  Francine’s speech was also having no effect on the man in front of me. Not that I’d expected it to.

  “God has served justice on your sinful evil,” he said. “You all need to die and burn in Hell for the evil you’ve done.”

  “I’ve talked to gods, and they don’t like you much.”

  This earned me some gasps of horror as a tall man in a business suit joined us. He looked nothing like either Leventhal Reid or Howard Taft—he was average size for his height, normal looking, not ugly but not gorgeous, either. But I recognized Reid and Taft in him—there was something about the crazy in his eyes when he looked at Francine and the limos. “I told you, Mister Pecker,” he said.

  And there was also something familiar about his voice.

  “You’re aptly named, I can say that. So, who’s the head of Club Fifty-One here?” They stared at me, mouths open in shock. “Yeah, I know, how ever did a little Jewish gay-loving and alien-loving girl figure out who this other dude was all by her lonesome? Hard to believe, isn’t it? So, since we’re now face-to-face while you’re threatening me, what’s your name? As a warning, if your name’s Crotch I’m going to spend the next five minutes laughing my ass off.”

  He flushed. “My name is one you should learn and tremble before. I’m Harvey Gutermuth.”

  “Harvey Guttermouth? Wow, that totally fits. Oh, and in case you forgot, we’re only supposed to tremble before the Lord. And both of you are definitely not him. Tell you what, you let the cars through, I’ll listen to your crap for a while, how about that? So no one gets hurt and all that. And by no one I mean your sad, pathetic, misled followers.”

  Pecker looked apoplectic—eyes bugged out, face red. Surely someone else had mouthed off to this loser before now, so why I was having this effect I couldn’t guess. Just lucky, apparently. Or he had bad gas. Gave it even odds either way.

  Pecker opened his mouth, no doubt to blast me with more of his screed.

  But Gutermuth put his hand on Pecker’s shoulder. “Don’t waste words on these, my friend. There’s only one way to rid the world of this scourge.” He smiled at me, and it was definitely one of those Evil Bad Guy Smiles. He looked around and nodded. Several people with “Kill the Aliens” signs shoved closer.

  Which boded.

  CHAPTER 96

  BEFORE I COULD DECIDE if it was time for me to admit defeat and call in the National Guard—who were literally waiting inside at the Iwo Jima Memorial, because Mom had insisted on one more concession—a group of kids in their late teens or early twenties shoved through the crowd.

  “Get away from them!” one of the boys shouted. “They need us here!” he shouted to someone over his shoulder.

  One of the girls shoved between me and Pecker and Gutermuth and stood between us in a protective stance, her back to me. I was officially shocked. By the looks on the men’s faces, so were they.

  “Leave these people alone! You can threaten us, but we’re going to make sure they get inside and we’re also going to make sure that none of you do.”

  I put my hand on her shoulder and backed her up just a bit. “They’re not above hitting a girl. FYI.”

  “I’m not above kicking them in the balls, either.” She smiled at me over her shoulder. “No, you don’t know me, or any of the rest of us. You haven’t saved our lives, unle
ss you count when all of you stopped the alien invasion, and we do. The call went out—you aren’t here alone.”

  The kids who’d come with her went behind Pecker and Gutermuth and linked arms. Francine nudged me. “I’m going to join them.” She walked over and linked up. Then she started her speech again, the kids next to her nodding along and chiming in.

  I was about to mention that though the effort was sweet and very well-intentioned, eight college students weren’t going to stop this mob. But before I could, more people shoved through the protestors. Most of them were college aged, but certainly not all. I could definitely spot family groups, too. They didn’t say anything, just linked up with the others and started spreading out.

  In a rather short time we had a full-on human chain up against the foliage that was the “wall” around Arlington. Once the line was set, the girl who’d been protecting me shouted some orders and she, along with a few more people, created two more chains from the middle of the entrance.

  They spread toward the street, then moved as a chain to opposite sides, shoving the protestors out of the way of the cemetery’s entrance. It was like watching a non-uniform marching band. And yet there was no way these people had practiced—it was clear that most of them didn’t know each other.

  Pecker and Gutermuth had managed to avoid the human chain, however, and were blocking the entrance.

  I was sure Len was ready to run them down, not that I could blame him. However, that wasn’t what the good guys did. I went to the two men. “I’ll give you a choice. You can move and let all our cars through without issue, or I’ll make you move. The former will allow you some dignity—but I promise that the latter won’t.”

  “We will never move for the likes of you,” Pecker bellowed.

  “Aliens are beneath us,” Gutermuth chimed in. “We will never do as you ask.”

  “Okey dokey. The No Dignity For You option it is.”

  One of the many things I’d been practicing was talking to the Poofs and Peregrines in my head. I was getting really damned good at it. And I knew I had all of our Poofs on board because Fuzzball was in Michael’s coffin.

  So I sent out a request. A rather simple one, all things considered. And, happily, results were immediate.

  All the clothing Pecker and Gutermuth were wearing disappeared from their bodies.

  They gaped at me. “Wow, you’re not aptly named at all, really, are you?” I said to Pecker. “Well, other than in terms of personality. And you, sir,” I said to Gutermuth, “should perhaps consider cutting back on the donuts. Spanx can only do so much, after all. And while imperfections are what make the rest of us fun and interesting, in someone as self-righteous as you are, I think it’s only right to demand perfect physical fitness to match your perfect morality and all.”

  Pecker and Gutermuth tried to cover up and back up into the cemetery, but some of the kids noticed this and the human chain moved fast and blocked them. Meaning everyone could now see both of these dudes standing there butt naked.

  While the kids nearest to us started to laugh, the protestors who could see this screamed in horror.

  “See how God punishes the wicked?” a voice boomed over the crowd. Not a troubadour’s voice, but Oliver’s. He had a video camera trained on the scene. “God has exposed them for the charlatans they are! All who follow men such as this are more evil than any other sinner!”

  Many of the protestors ran off. Some dropped their signs. Some were laughing. Soon the entire human chain was laughing, so it became hard to tell who wasn’t. The press took the opportunity to start snapping pictures and rolling video. Those who weren’t doubled over laughing, that is.

  Oliver joined me as the rest of the press blocked Pecker and Gutermuth from running off. “Nice choice, Ambassador.”

  “Thanks. Figured the nonviolent option would be best. Great use of drama on your part, too, MJO.”

  “Thank you, I wanted to ensure the dramatic. Seeing as I have a direct feed to the major news channels because I was in the car with you and the Congressman, this should be on every news outlet worldwide within the hour, if not sooner.”

  “You rock. Speaking of my husband, though, how did you keep Jeff in the car?”

  “There are two large Poofs inside who shared that we all needed to remain seated with our arms and legs inside the vehicle. Once you had our friends here undressed they allowed me out.”

  “Ah, good thinking on the Poofs’ parts. Think we can get the press to move the sideshow off a bit so the cars can get through?”

  “I do.” Oliver joined the press mob and spoke to a few of the reporters and camera operators. They started to move toward the side, still not allowing Pecker or Gutermuth to escape.

  I waved the limo on, but the door opened and Jeff, Chuckie, and Raj got out. The limo remained stationary. “Why aren’t you going in?”

  Jeff took my hand. “We can let the President wait a little while. There’s something more important we need to do.” He walked us to where Francine and the first set of kids to arrive were. “Thank you. For proving that we’re still here for the right reasons.”

  He shook each kid’s hand and said the same to each of them. Looked around. Chuckie and Raj were doing the same with the other side of the line.

  As I detached from Jeff and followed suit, more of the Diplomatic Mission got out of the limos and did the same, some zipping off via hyperspeed to catch the other sides of the cemetery.

  We thanked everyone, even people I was fairly sure had been holding signs not too long ago. But most of the protestors had disappeared or joined the human chain, and that was what the goal had been anyway.

  Troubadours advised that the Embassy staff had shaken paws with every single person holding the line and Raj got the rest of us advised and herded back to our cars. Everyone returned to their limos, other than the troubadours, who were going to remain with their new friends on the human chain.

  Before I got into my limo I went back to the first kids who were with Francine. “You said a call had gone out. What call?”

  The girl who’d shoved between me and the two men threatening me grinned. “Over the Internet. The call’s gone out before, but not quite like this. I think it was a hack. We all got the same message—that the haters were protesting this funeral and that decent people needed to show what they stood for.”

  Made a mental note to ensure we did something nice for Hacker International. And probably Oliver, too, since I figured he’d been in on this with them. “What’s your name?”

  “Katherine. My friends call me Kathy.”

  I laughed. “What’s your major?”

  She grinned. “Criminal Justice. But I’m going to get a law degree after I graduate.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” Sent another mental message and a business card was in my hand. I gave it to her. “When you’re out of school, call me. I guarantee we’ll find a job for you.” There were more cards in my hand. “And your friends, too.” Hey, the kids were all Poof Approved.

  “Wow, thank you,” Kathy said. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Yeah, actually, I do.” I smiled as I gave the other kids who’d been with her my card. “I’m the Head of Recruitment for a reason, kiddo.”

  CHAPTER 97

  REJOINED JEFF AND THE OTHERS and our procession finally made it through the entrance and into Arlington. It was beautiful, but now that we were inside and past the major problems, all that remained was the funeral. Had to give one thing to the protestors—they’d certainly kept everyone’s minds off of the point of the journey.

  Michael was going to be buried in the same area as the Challenger and Columbia Memorials, which were near the Memorial Amphitheater. But because of the political brouhaha, the services were going to be held in the Amphitheater itself.

  The limos dropped everyone off in front of the Amphitheater and then went to park, keeping a couple of A-Cs with them for faster return. Other than the hearse, which pulled up and stopped. Michael’s hon
or guard got out.

  The flyboys were in their dress whites, and Brian, Gower, and Reader were in the Formal Armani Fatigues—black tuxedos, white shirts, with black buttons. Normally it was six pallbearers, but since we’d made it up as we wanted to, White had insisted upon eight.

  The rest of the men were in the standard Armani Fatigues. They were, as always, dressed for success. Which was good, because Akiko had about had a heart attack when we’d told her we weren’t doing the burka and veil combos for the women any more. The troubadours were also good with fashion design and alterations, though, so they’d been able to help her create more appropriate mourning-wear for the female side of the house.

  We women were all in various black ensembles, mostly simple sheaths, and only those who wanted to were wearing black hats with veils. There were flashes of white here and there, mostly gloves, but some other accessories as well.

  We really looked like a huge group of penguins, and I wanted to talk to our benevolent observer, but now wasn’t the time to try to chat with ACE, since Jamie was undoubtedly awake and this would be a poor time for me to take a nap.

  The Amphitheater was, fittingly for Arlington, beautiful—an elliptical building built out of white marble and designed as a mesh of Greek, Roman, and Renaissance styles. It also had a lot of stairs to go up to get inside. Okay, not that many if you weren’t carrying anything heavy, but a lot if you were. The wisdom of eight pallbearers became clear to me, especially since we only had one A-C acting as a pallbearer.

  The pallbearers lifted the casket—each one of them had a Poof on the shoulder nearest the casket—and walked up the stairs to the entrance. The rest of us followed.

  Inside, the Amphitheater resembled an old-fashioned theater—including the slope from the entrance to the stage, and a sectioned colonnade area that curved around from the entrance to the covered stage area at the back—just one that didn’t have a roof. And instead of seats it had low, backless marble benches curving to face the semicircular main stage. “Pretty” was the watchword, not necessarily “comfort.”