by Gini Koch
Raves for the Alien novels:
“If you like your futuristic adventure with heapings of over-the-top fun and absurdity, Koch has the series for you. . . . A rip-roaring and outlandish romp!” —RT Book Reviews
“Aliens, danger, and romance make this a fast-paced, wittily-written sf romantic comedy.” —Library Journal
“Koch still pulls the neat trick of quietly weaving in plot threads that go unrecognized until they start tying together—or snapping. This is a hyperspeed-paced addition to a series that shows no signs of slowing down.” —Publishers Weekly
“This delightful romp has many interesting twists and turns as it glances at racism, politics, and religion en route . . . will have fanciers of cinematic sf parodies referencing Men in Black, Ghost Busters, and X-Men.” —Booklist (Starred Review)
“Gini Koch has another winner, plenty of action combined with just the right touch of humor and a kick-ass storyline. What’s not to like?” —Fresh Fiction
“Gini Koch mixes up the sometimes staid niche of science fiction romance by adding nonstop humor, blockbuster action, and moments worthy of a soap opera.” —Dirty Sexy Books
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DAW Books Presents GINI KOCH’s Alien Novels:
TOUCHED BY AN ALIEN
ALIEN TANGO
ALIEN IN THE FAMILY
ALIEN PROLIFERATION
ALIEN DIPLOMACY
ALIEN VS. ALIEN
ALIEN IN THE HOUSE (coming in May 2013)
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ALIEN
VS. ALIEN
GINI KOCH
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Copyright © 2012 by Jeanne Cook.
All Rights Reserved.
Cover art by Daniel Dos Santos.
Cover design by G-Force Design.
DAW Book Collectors No. 1609.
DAW Books are distributed by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious.
Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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Nearly all the designs and trade names in this book are registered trademarks. All that are still in commercial use are protected by United States and international trademark law.
DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED
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—MARCA REGISTRADA
HECHO EN U.S.A.
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To all the accidental badasses out there who, like Kitty, don’t let what’s proper stand in the way of doing what’s right.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As always, many thanks to my amazing editor, Sheila Gilbert, and all the other good folks at DAW Books. Same again to my awesome agent, Cherry Weiner. And once more with feeling for my great crit partner, Lisa Dovichi, and my super main beta reader, Mary Fiore. You’re all fabulous and each one of you makes my writing better every time.
Love and thanks to all my fans around the globe, particularly those on Hook Me Up!, those who are part of Team Gini, every Alien Collective Member in Very Good Standing, my Twitter followers, and Facebook fans and friends. You’re the best fans in the world and I love you all.
Special shout outs to: Colette Chmiel for sacrificing hours of her time toward saving my sanity and becoming my distance assistant; Nicole Snyder for fast action and a calming take-charge manner when the pirates were literally at the gate; Sally Janin for going above and beyond to help me out, even during difficult times; Robert Palsma for always liking everything I do; Adrian and Lisa Payne for no fenvt only always showing up with books in hand and smiling faces, but also for your eleventh hour fill in during Phoenix Comicon; Chris “Delicious” Swanson and Raul Padron for cheerful support, schlepping, baggage handling, and more, anywhere and everywhere; Kay Moran and Helen King for constant cheerleading, particularly when deadlines loomed; Julie Jones and Marnie Walski for making me grin every day; author Marsheila Rockwell for being there at midnight any time I needed to bounce an idea off another creative night owl; Jan Robinson, Joanne Marie di Biasi, Koren Cota, and Mariann Asanuma for making beautiful and delicious things just for me (sometimes live and on the scene!) and bestowing them upon me at every con; Carien Ubink and Shawn Sumrall for sending fun and yummy surprises that never fail to arrive on just the day I need a smile; and all the wonderful fans who come to my various book signings and make them into such memorable, cherished events, and same again to the wonderful bookstores that host said signings.
My husband, Steve, and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary while edits for this book were going on. Honey, thanks for not only your support in my writing career, but for a quarter of a century of a marriage that’s easily as good as Kitty and Jeff’s—for which the majority of the credit absolutely goes to you. And to our daughter, Veronica, who’s as special and super as Jamie Martini, thanks for being both a chip off the old block and your own distinct person. Not sure how you managed it, but well done. And thanks to both of you for being a part of this writing journey—it’s always better when the people you love are along with you for the ride.
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Contents
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
CHAPTER 38
CHAPTER 39
CHAPTER 40
CHAPTER 41
CHAPTER 42
CHAPTER 43
CHAPTER 44
CHAPTER 45
CHAPTER 46
CHAPTER 47
CHAPTER 48
CHAPTER 49
CHAPTER 50
CHAPTER 51
CHAPTER 52
CHAPTER 53
CHAPTER 54
CHAPTER 55
CHAPTER 56
CHAPTER 57
CHAPTER 58
CHAPTER 59
CHAPTER 60
CHAPTER 61
CHAPTER 62
CHAPTER 63
CHAPTER 64
CHAPTER 65
CHAPTER 66
CHAPTER 67
CHAPTER 68
CHAPTER 69
CHAPTER 70
CHAPTER 71
CHAPTER 72
CHAPTER 73
CHAPTER 74
CHAPTER 75
CHAPTER 76
CHAPTER 77
CHAPTER 78
CHAPTER 79
CHAPTER 80
CHAPTER 81
CHAPTER 82
CHAPTER
83
CHAPTER 84
CHAPTER 85
CHAPTER 86
CHAPTER 87
CHAPTER 88
CHAPTER 89
CHAPTER 90
CHAPTER 91
CHAPTER 92
CHAPTER 93
CHAPTER 94
CHAPTER 95
CHAPTER 96
CHAPTER 97
CHAPTER 98
CHAPTER 99
CHAPTER 100
CHAPTER 101
CHAPTER 102
CHAPTER 103
CHAPTER 104
SPECIAL EXCERPT FROM ALIEN IN THE HOUSE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
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Stephen Hawking warns that when aliens arrive on Earth, it’ll be a bad day for all the inhabitants of the third rock from the sun. I’m not sure if this means the smartest man in the solar system is somehow unaware of reality, doing his part to help with the cover-up, or talking about the aliens that don’t already reside here.
I’m going with best two out of three on this one.
Oh, sure, the aliens we have here now are all from Alpha Four of the Alpha Centaurion solar system, or A-Cs for short. And yes, they all look like supermodels, have two hearts, and a whole lot of other nifty things humans don’t, like hyperspeed and some interesting talents. But for the most part, they fall on the Superman side of the house—here to protect and serve and maybe score a little human nookie if all goes well.
The other inhabitants of the Alpha Centaurion solar system are pretty all right, too. They don’t visit often, but when they do, it’s usually to lend a helping hand, paw, or talon. In part because they’re cool. In part because they’re not sure if Earth is merely talking a good show or really is, as George Thorogood so aptly sings, “Bad to the Bone.”
Truth is, we’re both.
Which is good. Because there are a lot of solar systems out there in this galaxy we call the Milky Way, and if some of their inhabitants show up here, we’re all going to be in agreement that Hawking knows of what he speaks.
But never fear, good citizens! I may be stranded in Washington, D.C., doing the whole Diplomat on Duty thing, but that doesn’t mean I’m not paying attention. I am ever vigilant for danger.
Of course, it’s not that hard for me, lacking in normal people observational talents though I am. Danger’s my best bud forever, as near as I can tell. Plus I have all those nifty A-C skills I backward inherited from my daughter. So, wither danger goest, so goest I, or something like that.
Besides, superpowers or no, the classics—hairspray, a well-stocked iPod, and a Glock .23—never go out of style. It’s my own style, sure, but it works for me.
So when the next set of fugly aliens tries to come and ask, “What’s the frequency, Kitty?” don’t worry. It might look like the end of the world as we know it, but the bad guys won’t feel fine.
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CHAPTER 1
MY PHONE RANG AT 11 A.M. Sadly, it was a number I knew. Also sadly, it wasn’t a number I liked. But even more sadly, it was a number I had to answer.
I heaved a sigh, hit pause on my iPod—right in the middle of the Foo Fighters’ “Monkey Wrench”—and put on my Bright and Cheerful Diplomat Voice. “Hello, Senator Armstrong. How are you today?”
Senator Vincent Armstrong was the senior senator from Florida and had come onto my radar during what I called Operation Confusion and most everyone else called “the time the bad guys tried to steal my baby in the first days she was born, while they also tried to kill the rest of us.” Our lives were nothing if not exciting.
“I’m wonderful, Ambassador Martini. I was wondering if you might be able to visit my offices today.”
I’d become the co-head of the American Centaurion Diplomatic Corps in the aftermath of Operation Confusion. The big test had been six weeks ago, though, when Operation Assassination had gone down at the President’s Ball. I represented well, at least, in terms of keeping everyone alive and reasonably unscathed. The less said about the state of my clothing after the event the better, though.
Normally, Armstrong asking for a visit would mean we were both in Washington, D.C. However, currently we were both in Florida. He was in Miami, and I was nearish to the Kennedy Space Center, at what I called Martini Manor and what a stranger to the complex would call Beverly Hills, East.
“Oh, gosh, no. Tied up all day with home stuff.” I wasn’t. We had no plans at all. But even with no plans, a visit with Armstrong was high on my To Don’t list.
“Not able to leave the house at all?” His voice oozed concern, but I knew he was faking it.
“Nope. Jamie’s not up to it. Trapped all day, really,” I replied cheerfully. This wasn’t totally a lie, though Jamie was having a great day today. However, Armstrong had been asking for this meeting for several weeks. And I’d been dodging with different, so far extremely successful, excuses for just as long.
“Well, then, I’m pleased I took the initiative.”
That boded. “Excuse me?”
“I had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to come to me, again, so, Mohammed will have to come to the mountain.”
I decided not to mention that he was both comparing himself to one religion’s revered prophet while managing to insult me religiously three ways at the same time. I was fairly sure he knew exactly what he was saying and that it had been said to get a rise out of me.
“How sweet of you. What day were you planning to visit?” I asked so I could plan to be elsougewhere.
“Oh, today, Ambassador. I should reach your location within thirty minutes.”
It figured. I ran through all my options very quickly. They seemed quite limited. Armstrong had cornered me well—I’d confirmed I wasn’t going anywhere, and there was no way I could officially tell him to drop dead without causing yet another diplomatic incident.
I went for the Cheerful Diplomat voice again. “Wonderful. Guess I’d better go make myself look presentable.”
“I’ve never seen you as anything less than presentable, Ambassador.”
This was a flat out lie, but I decided not to call him on it. “Great, see you shortly.”
I hung up, cursed quietly, silently told Dave Grohl I’d have to get back to his awesome band later, then ran like hell for where I was fairly sure the rest of the team was.
I ran at human normal, which four and a half months ago would have been my only option. However, I wasn’t fully human any more. I’d scored some A-C powers due to giving birth to a hybrid baby whose father had been given Surcenthumain, or what I liked to think of as the Superpowers Drug. So I could have used hyperspeed to zip through the house in a second flat.
Only, I was still having serious issues with control. Slamming into walls wasn’t fun, and without an A-C to hold onto and to help control my direction as well as my ability to stop, I had the potential to slam through walls as well. I preferred not to, so did my best to keep the hyperspeed turned to “off.”
Arrived to find everyone where I’d expected—in the kitchen, hanging out and filching foodstuffs to tide them over between this morning’s humongous breakfast and the upcoming huge lunch.
I snagged a brownie that had, by its temperature, just come out of the oven five minutes ago. “We have a big problem.”
Of course we—me, my baby daughter, Jamie, Amy, Len, Kyle, and Former Pontifex Richard White—were already in Florida because of a problem. I took said problem out of White’s arms and gave her a cuddle.
Jamie was half human, half alien, with me supplying the human side and Jeff supplying the alien or A-C side. Problem was, due to the many internal differences between humans and A-Cs, some things went much faster in child development.
In Jamie’s case, while we’d controlled her hyperspeeding well, and Jeff and his cousin, Christopher White, had implanted empathic and imageering blocks into her when she was a newborn, there was nothing anyone could do for her when her teeth came in. All at once.
Jamie had been in agony, and even in isol
ation, even with every block he had available to him set to eleven on a scale of ten, Jeff, the strongest empath in, most likely, the galaxy, hadn’t been able to stand it. His baby daughter was in agony, and he not only couldn’t help her, he could feel every bit of her pain. And it hurt him in ways I couldn’t even comprehend.
That “fun” had gone on for three days. Then, to save everyone’s sanity, preserve our marriage and Jeff’s health, and ensure that at least some of us were still able to function in our roles as the current and very novice American Centaurion Diplomatic C C Di leorps, I’d packed up my miserable baby and taken her to the one place everyone could feel at least reasonably okay about, which was to Jeff’s parents, Alfred and Lucinda.
They’d had to deal with Jeff’s empathic talents at birth, so their house was set up for it. They were A-Cs, so they could keep Jamie’s hyperspeed in check, and my parents, though awesome grandparents, were both working and human. Plus, as Lucinda had pointed out when I’d called her desperately and somewhat hysterically at 3 a.m. a month ago, my parents saw Jamie all the time, since they’d moved to D.C. to be nearer to us.
“Catsuit time, Missus Martini?” White asked.
“Unfortunately no. But a problem of epic proportions is descending on us.”
“Oh, Kitty,” Lucinda said with a chuckle. “You’re always so dramatic.”
“In this case, we really have the drama. Senator Armstrong is going to be here in less than thirty minutes.”
“How lovely that he’s visiting. I’ll set another place for lunch,” Lucinda said as she headed for the dining room. My mother-in-law, despite all the evidence to the contrary, seemed to think that most politicians had everyone’s best interests at heart.