Alien in Chief

by Gini Koch

  “Apparently,” she replied. “You know all those kids?”

  “No. I know or know of their parents.” He shook his head. “Well, it’ll make it easy and, Kitty, you’ll enjoy getting bingo.”

  Took the leap. “Lots of the Dealers of Death on this list?”

  “Among others.”

  Before Vance could say anything else there was a knock on our door. Jeff heaved a sigh and went to get it. To find my parents there, chatting with the Secret Service folks who had the thrilling job of guarding our particular portal.

  Dad trotted inside while Mom continued her chat with—as I got up to give my father a hug and then immediately go eavesdrop—Evalyne and Joseph. Oh, good. They were tattling on us.

  Well, that was probably not true. They were telling the person who had the most influence over us and to whom they dotted-line reported to, now that Cliff Goodman had been moved to a new job, what was going on from their perspective. Which was the grown-up way of saying they were tattling. Maybe Jamie was learning how to do it from our Secret Service detail.

  Mom noted me noting this conversation, of course. My mother was nothing if not on top of everything. She was the only non-Israeli non-Jew to ever be in the Mossad, and since we had good friends who were currently active in Israeli Intelligence, Mom’s status as a living legend had been confirmed many times over.

  She’d been the head of the P.T.C.U. for years, an agency I hadn’t even known existed until I’d met Jeff and the rest of the gang from Alpha Four. I hadn’t known that my father wasn’t just a history professor at Arizona State but also a cryptologist for NASA or that Chuckie was in the C.I.A., either. The lies my nearest and dearest had told me for years were so numerous that I could count them instead of sheep if I was having trouble getting to sleep.

  “Keep me posted,” Mom said to Evalyne as she stepped through our threshold and closed the door behind her. “So, you have a new houseguest?”

  “Nice to see you, too, Mom.”

  Mom chuckled and gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek. “Sorry, kitten. It’s good to see you.”

  I hugged her back. “You, too.” Considered why my parents might be here and decided to make the educated guess. “You’re leaving Dad here to watch over the kids and you’re coming with us down to Florida, aren’t you?”

  Mom nodded. “It’s always so nice to know that you’re on top of things.”

  “Well then, you’re just in time to find out what we’re not yet on top of but plan to be just as soon as Vance and Chuckie tell us just how bad our situation is.”

  “First, I want to meet the girl.”

  “Lizzie,” Jeff said, as he joined us. “Her name is Lizzie.”

  Mom raised her eyebrow.

  “She has a Poof,” I offered, lest Mom and Jeff get into some kind of spat. Jeff rarely if ever upset my parents, in part because he could tell when they were upset—far more often with me than him, and of course, never with the kids—and almost always did whatever was necessary to smooth things over.

  “I’m not mad at your mother, baby, and I don’t think she’s upset with me. However we have a fourteen-year-old girl now under our protective care who far too many adults in high levels of authority have been intimidating.”

  “Trying to intimidate,” I pointed out. “Lizzie hasn’t really been intimidated, emphasis on the ‘ed.’”

  “That you can tell,” Jeff said patiently. “However, I can tell you that she’s a child, and a child whose adoptive father left her with total strangers, and she’s faking being calm and collected really well. But she is faking it.”

  “So, you know, Mom, be nice to her, like you always were to Brian. Not how you were to me, Amy, Sheila, or Chuckie.”

  Mom gave me a look that said she was seriously considering the benefits of grounding me. Sadly, my mother still had enough authority in both the world and my life to make a grounding threat a reality. “I’d like to meet her, and then we’ll decide if I coddle her or not.”

  “I don’t need coddling,” Lizzie said from behind Jeff, who stepped out of the way so she and Mom could be face to face. “I totes get why everyone’s freaked. My dad told me you’d come to check me out. Peter said to tell you that if I was a threat I wouldn’t be inside.”

  Mom looked her up and down. “What else did they tell you, young lady?”

  “That, other than them, the person who had the best skills to kill anyone she wanted to was you, and that I should mind my manners and be a good girl so you didn’t ground me. And, seriously, that’s a verbatim quote.” Mom raised her eyebrow. Lizzie shrugged. “I’m at a good school. I know what verbatim means.”

  “That’s not what I’m questioning,” Mom said. “I’m questioning my reputation.”

  “You’re saying you’re not able to kill anyone just using your pinky or something?” This was disappointing news. I kind of thought Mom could kill someone with a stare, let alone any other way.

  Mom rolled her eyes at me. “That level of intelligence indicates that they understand our movements and that, therefore, we’re being far too predictable.”

  “My dad and the uncles aren’t going to hurt you or anyone else here.”

  “The uncles?” Mom asked. “As in the Dingo and his cousin? That’s the Peter you mean?”

  “Yep,” I replied, before Lizzie could. “We’re just one big happy family, Mom.”

  “Wonderful,” she said in a tone that indicated clearly that it wasn’t. “I’m concerned about our enemies knowing exactly what we’ll do in any situation.”

  “They know our playbook,” Chuckie said quietly as he joined us in the hallway. “They helped us create the playbook, remember?”

  “Magneto helped Professor X build Cerebro, dude. It happens. So, can we all go rejoin Vance or are we just going to do our meeting in the foyer?”

  Before anyone could reply, the door opened again and Raj returned with Chernobog in tow. She didn’t look happy.

  CHAPTER 25

  “A ND, ONCE AGAIN, it’s a party.” Sometimes I wondered if it was just my lot in life to end up cramming a million people into a room at any given time. Probably.

  Headed back to the living room where Vance was sitting chatting with Dad about totally inconsequential things. Lucky them.

  Everyone else sat, but Chernobog didn’t. Like Olga, she was former KGB. She was also the computer hacker that the best hackers in the world had considered a myth because she was that good. She’d gone rogue decades prior, but had been hired by our enemies and caused us and everyone else a lot of problems, especially during Operation Infiltration. However, we’d tracked her down during Operation Defection Election, and, due to a mutually beneficial arrangement, she was now our willing prisoner.

  When we’d found her, Chernobog was calling herself Zoya Darnell and working for the U.S. government. However, we’d determined that her real name was Bogdana. She looked like Everyone’s Grandma, particularly tonight, because she was in a nightgown, robe, and slippers. No curlers in her hair, though, so we had that going for us.

  “What took you so long to get back here?” Jeff asked Raj.

  “She wouldn’t let me use hyperspeed.”

  “I’m an old woman and I refuse to take those drugs.”

  “Hey, Boggy, just say no and all that. Anyway, sorry Raj had to drag you out of bed.”

  “I’m still waiting for that nickname to grow on me. And I wasn’t in bed. You’re disturbing our movie night at the Zoo.”

  Let that one sit on the air for a few seconds. “Ah, do you mean that you and the rest of Hacker International, and all the other A-Cs and such who live and work at the Zoo, are all in their jammies watching the gigantic big screen TV?” That Stryker had demanded a few months ago.

  “Yes. We’re doing a double feature—Big Trouble in Little China and Galaxy Quest. And I’m now missing it.”
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  “Add in Mortal Kombat and that’s a three picture deal I’ll take any day. However, I’m sure you’ve seen the movies many times before or can demand that they rewind when you get back.”

  “It’s not the same thing. The popcorn will be cold.”

  “Our deepest sympathies,” Jeff said, sarcasm meter definitely heading toward eleven, “but we need you to translate this message.” He handed her the paper.

  “Invisible ink?” She didn’t sound impressed. Honestly couldn’t blame her.

  “Could be a joke,” Chuckie said.

  “Huh. I don’t think so.”

  “What does it say,” I asked finally, after a few long moments of Chernobogian silence.

  “No matter what they say, what you hear, or what you want, stay home.” She looked up. “What’s going on that Olga’s suddenly so concerned for my welfare?”

  When we’d brought Chernobog in from the cold, this would have been asked with the sarcasm knob turned to at least eleven, possibly even fifteen. Chernobog and Olga had not been friends. But, as Chernobog had just pointed out, they were old now, and, frankly, had more in common with each other than most other people around them. So, over the past couple of years, they’d gotten close. But Olga had never indicated concern about Chernobog’s welfare before.

  “Why would she even think you’d want to go?” I asked.

  “Or that we’d let you?” Chuckie added.

  Mom’s phone beeped and she took a look. Her expression changed—she’d been interested and alert, but now Mom looked angry and determined. Got the proverbial bad feeling about this.

  “What is it?” Jeff asked softly.

  “We have a prison break,” Mom said. “From the best supermax prison we have.”

  Chuckie went white. “I’d say that’s impossible, but . . . who’s your intel from?”

  “Malcolm.”

  Meaning said intel was accurate and up to the minute. Took the leap. The only supermax prison I knew of was underneath the Pentagon. And it housed a variety of our enemies. All of whom wanted to destroy us in very personal and varied ways.

  “How could anyone get out from there? I mean other than by being released by the powers that be.” As soon as I asked the answer waved at me. “We have another enemy A-C or A-C hybrid out there, don’t we?”

  “Most likely,” Mom said, looking grim. “And now Olga’s message becomes clear.” She shot a glance at Raj, who stepped nearer to Chernobog. “Among those who’ve escaped is Russell Kozlow.” Also known as Chernobog’s son.

  Chernobog blinked. “He’s out? But how?”

  “Maybe he figured out how to use his A-C talents,” Chuckie suggested.

  She shook her head. “He doesn’t have any.”

  “So everyone claims,” Mom said, in a way that indicated she didn’t believe everyone was truthful. Couldn’t blame her.

  “And what does this mean to you?” Raj asked Chernobog carefully. She’d helped us originally because we had her son—whose father was the late and totally unlamented Ronald Yates/Mephistopheles in-control superbeing—in custody. She’d stayed with us because I’d convinced the Dingo to pretend he’d killed her, even though he knew she was still alive.

  “It means terrible things.” Chernobog swallowed. “Russell was safe. Not much of a life, but a life, nonetheless. If he’s out, they can do whatever it is they do to those they’re using or no longer have a use for.”

  “You think the Mastermind would turn him into an android?” Chuckie asked.

  “I have no idea, I just know they have no scruples and no limits. Despite what you want to insinuate,” she shot a glare at Mom, “Russell has none of his father’s talents. He has no idea where I am, but I’m sure he thinks I’m dead since that was the plan and there’s been no chatter anywhere about my still being around, either as myself or as the Ultimate. So, he has nowhere to go.”

  Chernobog didn’t seem like she was lying about Kozlow’s abilities. However, it was unlikely that any of the Yates Kids were untalented. But there was a possibility that Chernobog didn’t know what talents her son had, either because said talents were weak or because he’d hidden said talents from her. “Think he’ll come here?”

  “I’m sure he will,” Chuckie said dryly. “Along with the others.”

  “I meant to take refuge.”

  “No,” Jeff said flatly. “We are not going to try to make another enemy of ours into our friend. So don’t ask.”

  “His mother is with us,” I pointed out. Needlessly, based on the “really?” looks everyone, even Lizzie, shot at me.

  Jeff shot me a look I was familiar with—his “why me?” look. “Baby, I know you want to find the good in everyone, but he’s someone our allies don’t like.”

  “True.” The Israelis weren’t fans of Kozlow in any way, shape, or form. And there were others lining up to hate him, too. I’d never really interacted with him. During Operation Infiltration I was far more focused on people who were more immediate threats, like Annette Dier the Murdering Psycho-Bitch.

  And that made another thought occur. “Did Malcolm say when they got out? As in, have they been out a while, and therefore that bitch Annette Dier is our Huntress, or did they just escape?”

  “Just escaped,” Mom said. “As for who the main suspect is for how they got out, you get one guess.”

  “Stephanie,” Jeff said sadly. “She’s the only A-C we know of who’s got the skills and the motivation to do it.”

  “And she knows the place, having been there for, apparently, far too short a stay.”

  Once again, had to hand it to the Mastermind—he was really good at making lemonade when we gave him lemons. Someone killed your A-C flunky? Recruit his daughter. She gets arrested? Make sure she’s cased the joint, then get her out. She freaks out after killing people? Work with her to get everyone else out, too.

  Or else she was doing this on her own. Always a possibility. Especially if I considered that I still didn’t think Cliff had been faking his terror. After all, there was no fury like a woman scorned, and perhaps Stephanie felt scorned by him in some way.

  “This makes the ‘Stephanie’s trying to lure us into a vulnerable position’ theory look more likely,” Raj pointed out.

  “It makes the Stephanie is the Huntress Theory look more likely, too,” I pointed out.

  “Yes, but right now any A-C is a suspect in regard to the breakout,” Chuckie said calmly. “Anyone with hyperspeed is a suspect, honestly.”

  “It wasn’t me. Just in case anyone wasn’t sure. Or me and Richard.”

  Got a full blast of the “really?” looks. “Thank you for clearing that up,” Mom said, sarcasm meter on eleven and rising.

  “Did Olga’s note say anything else?” Raj asked.

  Chernobog looked at it again. “Yes. Give me a moment, this is in code.”

  “You mean the original wasn’t?” I asked.

  “No, just in the old language.” She grunted. “Interesting. ‘A catastrophic event is being planned. Remain at your post at all costs.’ And that’s it.”

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Jeff said. “Why didn’t Olga warn us directly?”

  “Warn us about what?” Chuckie asked. “The term ‘catastrophic event’ is vague. In less than a minute I could list at least a dozen events that could be catastrophic, none of them the same or even related to each other.”

  “Maybe she means the Planetary Council coming, or the prisoners escaping,” I suggested. “I mean, it’s possible she knows about both.”

  But again, this was old news. Sure, it wouldn’t have been old news when she’d given Lizzie her note, but at the same time, aliens coming to visit and prisoners escaping were things we’d find out about quickly. Olga tended to know the things we weren’t going to discover without a lot of help.

  Chernobog shook her head slo
wly. “What you should all focus on is the phrase ‘remain at your post’. It indicates a reason for me to leave my post. And I don’t believe Russell is that reason.”

  Vance cleared his throat. Once everyone looked at him he gave us all a polite smile. “Not that this isn’t thrilling in a totally par for the course you guys always play way, but how does this affect tomorrow’s trip?”

  “You really want to take the train, don’t you?”

  “Hells to the yeah.”

  Mom shrugged. “Too bad. The trip is cancelled.”

  Took a deep breath. “No, it’s not.”

  CHAPTER 26

  EVERYONE STARED AT ME. I shrugged, but kept eye contact with Mom.

  “The President cannot spend his time hiding because of potential threats. We have a far bigger issue than some hired wacko killers and escaped enemies of the state going on. If we don’t meet with the Planetary Council, we’re putting our planet and potentially the Alpha Centauri system at risk.”

  “As far as we’ve guessed,” Mom pointed out. “This could merely be a state visit, meaning it can be put off.”

  “Maybe yes, maybe no. We don’t know, and until we do, we have to assume that it’s a visit that cannot be put off.” The last times Alexander and Leonidas had sent us messages we’d been invaded or were about to be under attack.

  “We haven’t asked to put the visit off, and it should be an option.” Mom didn’t sound angry. Couldn’t tell if she really didn’t want us doing this or if she was just testing my resolve. Gave it even odds for both.

  “That should be our Plan D, E, or F. The President and Vice President are already under protection. We’ll just make that protection more stringent and pervasive. But we have an intergalactic political issue going on, and that has to take precedence over a few loons with guns running around.”

  “The risk factor just went up exponentially due to who’s out,” Mom said calmly.

  “Let me guess. In addition to Kozlow the Swarthy Slapper, we have Insane Assassin Chick Annette Dier, Secret Service Traitor Sam Travis, Air Bender Darryl Lowe, and the guy whose name I never got, the one Gladys tossed out of the chopper during Operation Infiltration who’s likely also one of the last living Yates offspring.”