Alien Tango

by Gini Koch

  News to me. I also heard the hurt in his voice, lurking just under the surface of the words. Martini wasn’t kidding; this was likely to be a grueling experience.

  Tim came on the intercom. “Time to land. I think we want to buckle in, lord knows what kind of welcome we’re going to get.”

  We moved the seats back to their full, upright positions and strapped ourselves in. I held Martini’s hand, rather more tightly than usual. Landing had never made me feel comfy when I had no idea how to fly. Now that I did, I knew exactly how many things could go wrong. Reader was our best pilot as well as best driver, but I couldn’t keep the nerves at bay.

  Martini stroked the back of my hand with his thumb. “It’ll be fine, baby,” he said quietly.

  I leaned my head on his shoulder. “I’m sure. We’ll manage at your parents’, too. I promise.”

  He kissed my head. “I hope you’re right.”

  I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and then we were going down. Landing was smooth as glass, Reader’s usual. I kept my eyes closed. Thoughts had managed to enter my brain, and I wanted to hold onto them.

  “Jeff, what does your father do at the Space Center?”

  “He’s the head of their ET Division.”

  “So, shouldn’t that mean he knows my dad?”

  “If he does, he’s never mentioned it.” Martini sounded confused. “But your father’s a cryptologist. Mine works on the building of the actual spacecraft.”

  “So, did he help design the long-range spacecraft that got hit with the unidentified creepy from outer space?”

  “Probably. Our people have the most experience with spacecraft, even more than Earth scientists.”

  “How so? I thought you used gate technology to get here.”

  “We did, but we’d already explored our entire solar system effectively. There just wasn’t time to build a long-enough-range spacecraft to get us here in time to stop the parasitic threat.”

  More thoughts. And I’d only had one soda since last night’s dinner. Amazing. “How many inhabited planets are there in your system?”

  “More than half, so ten.”

  “How many of them have long-range space flight?”

  “Not sure. When we were exiled, there were two others. Three of the planets weren’t advanced enough and weren’t in contact with the rest of us. Two of the planets had no interest in anything outside our solar system, and one had no interest in anything outside their own planet.”

  “What about the tenth?”

  He was quiet for a few long seconds. “They were warlike, more so than the rest of us. More so than Earth.”

  “So?”

  “So, the rest of our planets, at least the ones advanced enough, got together and removed their ability for space travel.”

  “How could you do that?”

  He sighed. “No idea. That’s all we were taught in school.”

  I considered this. “You’ve never asked for more information?”

  “Nope.”

  “Um, why not?”

  Martini shrugged. “Why would our teachers, who are our parents, grandparents, and other relatives, lie to us about things like this?”

  I managed not to bite through my tongue. “Oh, I can think of a few reasons.” I contemplated how to approach this. “So, doesn’t anyone question things when you’re all young and learning?”

  “Sure. Scientific theory, talent boundaries, control techniques, how to function at human speeds when you don’t want to, why we can’t be more like humans, things like that.”

  I reminded myself they had a whole different range of issues than humans did. Didn’t make this any less disconcerting. “So, it’s an A-C trait not to question your elders?”

  “I suppose.” He sighed again. “I know where you’re going with this. Everyone lied about who Ronald Yates really was, and maybe if we hadn’t, we could have found a way to stop Mephistopheles sooner.”

  “Something like that, yeah. It just seems kind of . . . unusual. That you get into adulthood without a lot of questioning of accepted truths. Or that you’re the head of everything, and yet they haven’t necessarily told you everything.”

  “What they did on our home world doesn’t matter for how we live here. Besides, if the lie is good enough . . . ”

  I got his point. I sure hadn’t figured out my parents were lying about their entire life histories. I’d cared a lot more about getting to stay out past midnight. “Point taken.”

  “If it really matters to you, my father might know how that race was contained.”

  “Think he’ll tell me the truth?”

  “I think you’ll badger it out of him, so probably.”

  “Does Richard know?” I found the Pontifex rather easy to badger for information these days.

  “He might. He’d be as likely to know as my father.”

  Okay, something to do when we got a moment. Call the Pontifex and demand some answers. While dodging murderous attacks, finding out who killed Smith and why, and making a good impression on Martini’s parents. Not a problem, I was great at multitasking.

  We taxied into what looked like a humongous hangar and then to what looked like a regular docking bay. It wasn’t overly lit inside, and I had a hard time making much out through the windows. It reminded me of every horror movie I’d ever seen. “Where are the weapons stored?” I wanted a gun for some reason.

  “In the cache,” Christopher said. Martini and Gower pulled up the floor. I was intrigued that until they did it, you couldn’t have told there was a storage area under there. Christopher slipped into the hole and started handing up guns and clips.

  “Nice,” Kevin said under his breath.

  “I’m sure they have permits.” I doubted it highly, but I had no issues with lying.

  Kevin chuckled. “I’m betting they don’t, but that’s okay. They have their own sovereignty.”

  “They do?” Geez, what else didn’t I know?

  “Like the American Indians, only their reservations are a little more spread out.”

  Interesting—I’d heard the American Indian comparison before, but not the reservation part of the equation. “So, are they considered an ethnic minority?”

  “For some governmental purposes, yes, although they’re also American citizens, either naturalized or legally born here.” Kevin grinned at me. “I only learned this a few months ago myself.”

  “Yeah, well, some of us get the key information last.” Christopher handed me something I was familiar with, a Glock 23. “Awww, my favorite.”

  “Your mother asked that we have some on hand for you.” Christopher shook his head. “Why don’t you carry one all the time?”

  Because I constantly forgot to set the safety, but I didn’t feel like sharing that aloud. “The harpoon takes up a lot of space in my purse.”

  “That thing could hold an entire department store and probably has,” Christopher muttered as he handed more guns out. This was true, but not really the issue at hand.

  “How many weapons are we taking with us? I mean, one Glock and a few clips I can carry. I could stuff another set into my luggage, but that’s about it.” Christopher handed a huge case complete with shoulder strap up to Gower. I took a close look. “A rocket launcher? We carry rocket launchers? On purpose?”

  “Yep.” Martini took it from Gower as Christopher handed another one up.

  “Are you guys insane? We walk out with this stuff, and we’ll be filled with bullets faster than you can say ‘I’m a sociopath headed to Mickey D’s.’ ”

  “Relax,” Martini said with a grin. He pushed something on the case and it disappeared. Gower did the same, then grabbed the third launcher case Christopher handed up.

  “I think that’s good for now,” Christopher said as he climbed out.

  “You mean there’s more in there? What is this, the Guns and Ammo Mobile Christmas Catalog? I thought you all were supposedly pacifistic.”

  Christopher took the third case and turned i
t invisible. “You worry too much. You need to get her to relax, Jeff.”

  “Normally I could say that’d happen with a lot of confidence. Considering where we’ll be sleeping, maybe we should bring along some grenades.”

  “We have grenades?” I was hitting a pitch where soon only dogs would be able to hear me.

  “Relax, girlfriend. It’s all good.” Reader sauntered in from the cockpit. “We’re supposedly all clear. God alone knows who or what’ll be greeting us. I say we have at least handguns ready, though concealed would probably be wisest.” Gower handed him two guns and several clips, which Reader put about his person.

  Tim came back and got his armaments. Even Kevin took a couple of extra guns. The rest were put into everyone’s luggage. I had three Glocks and more clips than I could count shoved into mine. “My clothes are gonna be wrecked.”

  “Relax,” Christopher said. “Your concert shirts are safe.” He did know me well, I had to admit. “If you need more standard issue, we can get that easily.” The clothes, like the soft drinks and snackage, showed up whenever, wherever, as long as it was an A-C controlled facility. But still, I didn’t want to wear Eau de Gunpowder for this entire trip.

  “Ready?” Martini asked.

  “No.”

  “Good.” He kissed my cheek. “Let’s get going and see who wants to kill us at this location.”

  Martini went first, with Kevin insisting on going right after him. Gower, Reader, and Tim went next. I wanted to be near Martini, but that wasn’t allowed. I was, instead, put in the back with Christopher, who had the usual instructions to grab me and run if there was trouble. Where we would run to was a mystery, but then again, perhaps there were several secret exits as well as other weapons caches in this plane. Perhaps we’d leave through the food and drink time tunnel or something.

  Martini had started this little “put a lot of bodies between whatever it was and Kitty” pretty much right after Operation Fugly was over. Apparently he hadn’t enjoyed seeing me on the front lines at all and wanted to avoid repeat performances as often as possible. Christopher got to be my wrangler because he was just nasty enough that I knew he’d knock me out if he had to. So far he’d never had to, but Martini trusted Christopher’s discretion more than mine in these kinds of situations.

  We moved out of the jet—so far so good. Down the long tunnel where no airport-type personnel were. I knew we weren’t really at an airport, but we’d taxied to a hangar and the ramp had attached to our plane just like at any advanced airport. There should have been someone or something to indicate we weren’t enemies entering this area. But there was nothing and no one. So far so very creepy.

  “Is it always devoid of personnel? Anybody could waltz in here.”

  “No,” Christopher sounded worried. “Normally there are checkpoints.” He had a gun in his pocket and his hand on the gun. His other hand was on his suitcase. “Take my arm,” he said quietly.

  I did. I could feel his muscles, and they were tensed. “Should I be scared?”

  “Do you work better scared?”

  “Sadly, yes.”

  “Then be scared.”

  I didn’t want to think about the fact that Martini was in the lead. Adrenaline wasn’t any good for bullet wounds.

  Martini turned a corner, then the others did, too. Just as Christopher and I reached it, I heard what sounded like a lot of shouting. And then what sounded like an explosion.

  CHAPTER 23

  CHRISTOPHER SHOVED ME against the wall and back, the way we’d come. “Stay here.”

  “Jeff’s out front.”

  Christopher shot patented Glare #5 at me. “And he wants you protected. I’m going to check around the corner. If I get hit or tell you to run, you run.”

  “I’m not leaving you if you get hurt!”

  “Then I can’t see if Jeff needs help. You either promise me you’ll run if something bad’s going on, or I take the assumption we’re in trouble and we’re out of here together.”

  “Fine, I promise.” I was lying, but they weren’t good at telling.

  Christopher’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe that for a minute.” Damn, he was getting better at it.

  We heard more shouts and another explosion. “Okay, fine, just look and be careful.” All I wanted to do was run out there and see if Martini was okay or not. None of the others had come back, which scared me to death.

  Christopher kept a hold of me and held me against the wall. I didn’t have a hope of wrenching out of his grasp. He took a deep breath, ducked down, and looked around the corner. He pulled his head back. “Okay, no idea of what’s going on, the room’s filled with smoke.”

  “That’s like the opposite of good.”

  “Your way with words remains unsurpassed.”

  “Let’s go.”

  “Me, not you. You stay here.”

  “Why don’t I just use you as a shield?”

  “Because if I get hit and go down, then you don’t have a shield any more.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Kitty . . . I don’t want you to get hurt any more than Jeff does.” His eyes opened and looked directly into mine. This close up I could see the flecks of blue in them.

  Oh, hell, we were back to one of those moments where Christopher and I were at risk of appearing romantically interested again. Or possibly considering being romantically interested again, which was worse. My lusting after Kevin was one thing. Lust toward Christopher was never going to be met with any joy or understanding by Martini.

  “Okay, go, I’ll stay here.”

  He nodded and let go of me, a little more slowly than normal. “If I don’t come back or call to you, I want you to get out of here, Kitty. You can’t help us if you’re captured, hurt, or killed.”

  Great points, all depressing. I nodded, Christopher ducked low, pulled the gun out of his pocket, and moved around the corner. He left his suitcase, but he’d taken the rocket launcher with him.

  I did my best to wait patiently, but I didn’t hear anything. Okay, I was supposed to run away. But I couldn’t. The men I cared about most, other than my father and Chuckie, were all in there, possibly hurt or worse. I doubted my mother would have trotted off and hidden like a rabbit, and I couldn’t do that, either.

  I got the Glock out, made sure the clip was in, and took the safety off. I hooked my purse over my neck. The suitcases could wait here, but my purse was never leaving my side. I took my shoes off—I could run better without them, and I would make much less noise, as well.

  Like Christopher, I ducked low and then turned the corner. The place was filled with smoke, and it was coming toward me. Back to my suitcase and out with my Motley Crue shirt. I wasn’t risking an Aerosmith one for this. I wrapped it around the lower half of my face and tied the arms in the back. I undoubtedly looked ridiculous, but it would filter the smoke, and that was all I cared about.

  Back to a crouch, back around the corner and through the smoke. No bodies in the rest of the hallway. I reached the doorway, no bodies here, either. So, had they gotten into the room or just been dragged off?

  I could hear more shouting. I couldn’t tell if the voices were my guys’ or not. I also could hear something that sounded like crackling. Well, smoke and fire did go together. But no sprinklers were going off, and neither was a fire alarm. I slid into the room and kept to the back wall, moving against it because the smoke was so thick I couldn’t see. I tripped over Tim’s body.

  My heart stopped, and I knelt down. He was still alive, and from what I could see, appeared unhurt. So he was down from smoke inhalation. I kept on and tripped over Reader a few feet away. Same thing—alive and unconscious.

  All the men had been here before. I kept on, hoping that Reader and Tim had been heading for something that would help, like a fire alarm. My shirt was helping, but it wasn’t going to be too long before I passed out, too.

  A couple more bodies, no one I knew. Couldn’t tell if they were A-Cs or not, but they didn’t look like the most beautiful th
ings I’d ever seen, so probably human. I moved more quickly. All the humans were heading this way for some reason.

  I reached their goal—a fire hose. Great. Only, I had to turn it on and somehow spray it. And I knew without asking that was going to require strength I didn’t possess.

  However, I also knew that everyone was going to die if I didn’t find the means. The three unconscious human males had done most of the work for me—the hose was unrolled and there was a bit of water trickling out, meaning one of them had managed to get the knob started for me. I grabbed the nozzle, turned the water up to full, and braced myself against the wall.

  The water came fast, which was a relief. Nothing else was. The hose wanted to move and take me with it. By going into a version of a kung fu horse stance—legs bent, most of my power held in my thighs—to keep my back against the wall, I was able to fight it a bit, but the water pressure ended up sliding me back the way I’d come. This was okay, but I was having a terrible time controlling where the nozzle went, so it was waving wildly through the air.

  I was able to jump the humans on the floor I didn’t know, but I couldn’t keep it up, and I hit Reader and went over. Now on the floor, still holding onto the hose, but I had nothing to brace against or with. I hooked my legs through his and tried to use his body weight as help.

  Meanwhile the water was spraying impressively, all over and with no design at all. I sincerely hoped someone, anyone, was still conscious enough to get over to me and give me some help, if that help only covered telling me where to aim the damn thing.

  My legs started to slip away from Reader’s, and my shifting around to try to hang on meant he got slammed with the water. I moved it fast, now worried I’d drowned him.

  I was sliding for real now when I heard coughing, then cursing. “James, are you alive?”

  “Girlfriend, are you the reason I’m drenched?”

  “Yes. Help me!”

  He managed to crawl toward me. Being on the ground meant I had a clearer view, and I could see him catch on to what was happening. Just before I slid away he grabbed the hose and hauled me back.