by Gini Koch
“I know I speak for the Ambassador when I say we’d like more information,” White said.
Franklin nodded. “My move to this position has been in the works for the past few months because the Top Brass feel that someone who is more . . . positively disposed toward Centaurion Division would be a better choice than someone who is somewhat . . .”
“Xenophobic,” Morgan finished. “I’ve gotten intel from my former counterpart. Colonel Hamlin is not a fan of Centaurion Division.”
“That former counterpart would be Cliff Goodman?”
“One and the same,” Morgan said. “Cliff stressed that Colonel Hamlin is a good man, but he’s also not pro-alien. Because of the variety of circumstances that have happened over the past few months, moving Colonel Franklin to Andrews was the best choice, even though that leaves us with a new commander in New Mexico.” I managed not to ask if the circumstances had been the fact that we’d moved in as the American Centaurion Diplomatic Corps. Mostly because I was fairly sure the answer was a big yes.
“Not that you’re biased, Gil,” Franklin said with a grin.
“Wait. You ran Area Fifty-One?”
“Yes. And I loved it. This wasn’t a post I requested, but it was impressed upon me that it was necessary. However, the transition has not been smooth.”
“Hamlin didn’t want to leave?”
“Our information was that he was happy to go to another post,” Morgan said. “He was moving to the Department of Defense in an important role.”
“Was?”
Franklin shook his head. “We have no idea where Colonel Hamlin is. Formal transition was to have been in a week. I was contacted yesterday, when no one could find Colonel Hamlin.”
“A high-ranking Air Force officer goes AWOL and no one questions?”
“Oh, we questioned,” Franklin said with a grimace. “However, the last time anyone saw him was Friday at thirteen-hundred-hours—he went off-base for lunch. No one’s seen him since, and no one seems to have any idea what happened to him.”
“Other than the suspicion that he ran away,” Morgan said.
“Ran away? What from?”
Both officers stared at me. “The impending alien invasion,” Franklin said finally. “You know, the one you know about but haven’t yet told me how you know about it.”
“Ah.” I cleared my throat. “Any chance you know what’s happened to my husband and Charles Reynolds?”
I got another long look from both of them. “What are you talking about?” Franklin asked carefully. Then he jumped. “Where the hell did that come from?”
Looked where Franklin was pointing and Morgan was staring. Bruno looked back at me. I did some fast thinking. “You let Malcolm see you.” Bruno bobbed his head. “Because I can trust him completely, right?” Another head bob. “Ergo, if you’ve gone visible to the colonel and captain here, it’s because you feel we can trust them, too, right?” Another head bob accompanied by a feather fluff.
“You’re talking to the peacock?” Morgan asked carefully.
“Bruno’s actually a Peregrine from Alpha Four. Royal birds, totally kick-butt fighters, too. And they can go invisible, so to speak. Bruno says that any good friend of my Uncle Mort’s is a good friend of mine, sort of thing.”
“Oh, good,” Franklin said weakly. “There’s nothing in my briefing papers about—what did you call them?”
“Peregrines, and no, they don’t look like falcons, I know. And there wouldn’t be because they just arrived last night, and Chuckie hasn’t had time to do an update because he’s been kidnapped by our enemies along with my husband.” I looked at Bruno. “Mind reading or empathy?”
Bruno did some feather fluffing and head bobbing.
“A limited form of empathy combined with keen animal senses. Okay, works for me.” Who was I, the wife of Mr. Empath Extraordinaire, to argue?
“I really want a full explanation,” Franklin said. “Now.”
“Mister White?”
“I believe Bruno’s given you the go-ahead for full disclosure, Missus Martini.”
Chose not to marvel about how we were now taking our cues from a space avian, studiously avoided contemplating my latest Dr. Doolittle moment, and just went for what I was becoming the best of the best of the best at—the High-Level Recap. Started with Armstrong’s visit and carried on right through my audition for Crazed Shooter #2.
“So,” I finished, “I have to be honest when I tell you that alien invasion was just me spitballing it, because Casey gave me the idea. Besides, there’s no way in the world I can believe that anyone in Club Fifty-One is in the know about anything other than how to be conspiracy theorists.”
“Maybe not, but whether they were guessing or actually know, they’re right,” Morgan pointed out.
Franklin looked worried. “They had high-level assistance the last time they surfaced.”
“It’s safe to assume they do now, as well,” White agreed. “However, unless you have Club Fifty-One personnel identified on base, we’d now like information from you, since, one way or the other, Missus Martini and her Club Fifty-One contact are correct and we’re being invaded.”
“And, I’d like to know what you did with Mister Joel Oliver and the other people we sent here for safekeeping.” We’d already lost Jeff, Chuckie, and, apparently, a colonel. I didn’t want to lose anyone else.
“They’re here, at least most of them,” Franklin said. “I’m just not confident we can or should share this with them.”
“Well, all of them are aware that there are aliens on Earth. If they weren’t aware before this afternoon, they’re sure aware now. And I think they all may have information we need, even if they don’t realize they
have it.”
All three men looked at me. “Even I’m having a challenge with that one, Missus Martini.”
“They’ve seen things, and maybe they don’t realize they’re important things, but we know the questions to ask, or at least, I think I do. Can we do this with the others, though? In part because I want to reassure myself they’re all alive and well and actually here.”
Franklin rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We have a security failure if I simply read anyone and everyone in on what’s going on.”
“Colonel Franklin, that ‘security issue’ wheeze is what got us into at least half of this mess already. I promise to swear that I threatened you with Decapitation by Peregrine in order to make you speak, should, you know, any of us be alive tomorrow for anyone to care about it.”
“Good point. Considering what’s heading for us, I’m more concerned about someone leaking what’s coming and causing mass panic.”
“Mister Joel Oliver will keep whatever we ask him to in confidence.”
“He’s not my main worry,” Franklin said. “Your Club Fifty-One people are a much bigger concern. But, fine. Why not end my career in a spectacular way and have the shortest command of this base in Air Force history?”
Yi
CHAPTER 61
WITH THAT EXCITING Pronouncement of Doom, Colonel Franklin led us to a door opposite the one we’d entered his office through. This door connected us to a larger room that had clearly shared the same decorator as Martini Manor.
The room was filled with nice, comfy-looking, and also expensive-looking furniture. The art on the walls was tasteful and only somewhat military. While this room had no windows, there was a fully stocked wet bar with nice crystal. A big door leading to another room was emblazoned “Executive Washroom.”
“This is where the President hangs out when he has to visit, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Franklin sounded mildly impressed. “I’ve been given to believe you haven’t read any of your briefing materials, Missus Martini. Or should I be calling you Ambassador under the circumstances?”
“Oh, Colonel, under these circumstances, feel free to call me Kitty. And I haven’t read the Briefing Books of Boredom. I’m just a really good guesser.”
I took a look at the
room’s occupants. Happily, the Gower girls and the Barones were here, as were Tito, Armstrong, and Oliver. Sadly, Bellie was also here, perched on, of all people, Oliver’s shoulder. Mona and her men were here as well, as was Buchanan, who looked relieved to see me. We even had a newcomer to today’s festivities—William, who was Walter’s older brother and the best imageer we had after Christopher and Serene.
“Nice to see you, Will.”
“Happy to be here, Ambassador. Commander Reader pulled me from the Festival and assigned me to your team for the duration of this situation.”
“Works for me.” There were, however, a few key bodies missing. Bodies I’d sort of hoped would still be around. “Where’s my mother, James, and Airborne?”
“Chief Katt went back to the White House,” Morgan said.
“To lock the President into the bunker or to keep him updated?”
“Yes,” Franklin answered. “Commander Reader went to Paris, Commander Crawford and the rest of Airborne went to Paraguay.”
“How?”
Everyone, even the Middle Eastern Contingent, gave me a variation of the “duh” look. Buchanan pointed to the Executive Washroom door.
“Seriously? There’s a gate here?”
White cleared his throat. “It’s an air base.”
“There are gates in every U.S. military compound, as well as in most compounds that belong to friendly nations,” Franklin said. “I see your good guessing skills only extend so far.”
“Wow, I just realized how you and my Uncle Mort must have bonded—shared sarcasm. Moving on, why wasn’t Senator Armstrong taken to safety?”
“I refused to go,” he replied. “And before you ask, I’m staying because I may have information that we need, and you may also need my help.”
“The senator’s already in the know?” I asked Franklin.
“Yes. He noted some . . . things.”
“That Commander Reader never had to tell anyone here to go onto full alert—the entire base was on full alert before we arrived. And when I mentioned I was looking for our friend the reporter, we were instantly taken into a polite form of custody.”
“MJO, I see you’re making friends everywhere.”
“Truly. I must confess I was overjoyed to see the good senator here—he’s the only reason I’m not still confined to a very small room.”
“Nice to know it’s the start of a beautiful friendship for the two of you. Where’s the Pontifex?”
“Sent to the Dome, per your orders,” Franklin said, sounding mildly worried.
“Just checking.” Decided to check further and got my phone out. He answered on the first ring.
“Kitty, what’s the status?” Christopher asked.
“Is Paul with you in the Dome?”
“Yes. He’s brought me up to speed.”
“Thank God. Okay, you still can’t find Jeff or Chuckie, right?”
“Right. I had Paul talk to ACE, who, per Paul, is distant and distracted like you wouldn’t believe. ACE is happy that Paul’s in the Dome and said I’ve been looking the wrong way. So I’ve been thinking—”
“That maybe they’re on Earth but in one of those rooms that’s made to block out everything, including you and Jeff?”
“Yeah.” He sounded kind of pissed that I hadn’t let him do the big reveal. Oh, well, it’d been a Day of Suck for most of us. “Not that this helps us at all.”
“I think it might. There’s got to be a reason they’ve been trying to get us out of the Embassy.”
“Not following you. What?” Christopher sighed. “One of those stupid birds is standing next to me. Making noise.”
I hated what I knew I was going to have to say next. “Please put the phone down to the bird. Boy or girl, by the way?”
“Male, and did I just hear you right?”
“Yes.”
“How did our lives get this unreal?”
“No idea. I need to talk to Bruno’s rightwing bird there, okay?”
“I refuse to ask any more questions. Shout when I get to talk to you again.” I could tell the phone had moved. I heard urgent cooing, some feather rustling, and what I felt was just this side of screeching.
“Thanks, got it. I’ll take Christopher again.”
“The bird tried to bite me. Was that the signal to talk to you again?”
“Yes.” It worked, so that meant yes in my book. “Your bird feels things are secure at the Dome, at least for the moment, but would like you to ensure that all of the Security force is prepped, and by all of Security I mean Gladys and anyone who even sort of reports to her.”
“Why?”
“Because the Dome is going to be the focus of an attack like we’ve never had before.”
“You know this how?”
“Aside from some information I have that you don’t, the bird, ah, told me.” Felt the overwhelming urge to name the bird. “Harold’s a little stressed. Stop kicking at him.”
Christopher was silent for a few long moments. “You’re calling this thing Harold? And you know it’s stressed? How? Why? And if it would stop pecking and clawing at me, I’d stop kicking at it.”
“He. Harold. Call him Harold and he’ll be nicer. His mate’s name is Maude, and she doesn’t like being kicked at either. And Harold’s stressed because we’re about to be invaded.”
“By whom?”
“I have no idea, other than that they’re from space. I needed to call you to make sure Paul was there before we got the full details.”
“Lucky me. Why didn’t you send my father here along with Paul?”
“I need my partner. It’s action time. Besides, he and I were busy.”
“I heard. Why do you want my father doing the action stuff and not me?”
“Because I want you safe, a Commander everyone will listen to guarding everyone the bad guys w
ant to kidnap, my baby’s A-C godfather watching over her, and to keep you where I can reach you without worry.”
“But you’re okay with my father not being safe?”
I coughed. “Dude, he’s the best field agent we have.”
“According to you.”
“Yeah. And also according to his track record.”
“I understand you also commandeered the Barones right out from under James.”
“Head of Recruitment now, remember?”
“You never let me forget.”
“Jeff and Chuckie still missing and likely in life-threatening danger. Space invaders coming. Superbeings and supersoldiers popping up all over the place. You handle internal affairs, I’ll handle external.”
“Wow, the ambassador-speak is starting to rub off on you. In another decade we might be able to take you out in public.”
“If Bruno weren’t here, you’d be sorry you said that.”
“I’m sorry already. Harold just pooped on my shoe.”
“I love my Peregrines.”
Yi
CHAPTER 62
HUNG UP AND TURNED BACK to Franklin. “Ready for that debrief now.”
Franklin’s eyes were narrowed. “Why did you call to verify that your Pontifex was where I said he’d been sent?”
“Because I’m getting used to people I care about disappearing without a trace. It wasn’t a reflection on you, Colonel.”
“No offense taken.” Franklin still looked worried.
“What is it?”
“We have too many disappearances, too close together, and all of those missing vanished without a trace. Humor me, and let’s be certain the rest of your people are where we believe them to be.”
“Okay, Paul’s where he’s supposed to be, but I’ll verify the others are okay, too. Just give me a moment.” Decided not to call, so sent texts to Reader, Tim, and all the flyboys.
Franklin grimaced. “The Pontifex went to the Dome via a floater gate, per Commander Reader. But the two Commanders and their teams went to their locations using this gate. And, with my predecessor gone under extremely mysterious circu
mstances . . .”
“Right, it’s a little worrying.” None of them answered immediately. “We need to give them a little time to answer, since they all went to areas with active situations.”
Franklin nodded and headed for the Executive Washroom. “Come with me for a moment, please.” I could wait for texts and walk at the same time, so White and I followed him as requested. There were five stalls in here. Franklin went to the one farthest from the door. “Can you verify that this gate is in working order?”
“I can’t. How do you even know there’s a gate here?” I could see it because I was enhanced—airport metal detector standing around a toilet, never a thrill—but Franklin was a regular human, insofar as I knew.
Franklin shook his head and pointed to a tiny red disk on the back wall, right by the floor, behind the toilet. “That’s the identifier for a gate anywhere in the world. I can’t see that a gate is here, but I can see the disk.”
“It looks fine to me, but I honestly have no way of truly knowing,” White said.
“I learn something new every, single day.” Why was I, truly, the last to know anything and everything? Chuckie undoubtedly knew about this. Hell, Amy probably knew about it. For all I knew, everyone other than me knew. The horrible truth was obvious—I was going to have to break down and look at those briefing books. One day.
But not right now. Right now, we had a situation, and I hadn’t heard back from any of the guys.
Just before worry could take over, I got a reply from Reader. “James is fine, situation in France is not. It’s not superbeings they’re fighting but supersoldiers, and rural France meant just outside of Paris.”
Another text came in, then another. “Tim and Jerry are also fine, and confirmed that the rest of the flyboys are okay, too. They’re getting into the air, though, because it’s worse in Paraguay than in Paris right now. They’re dealing with superbeings in Paraguay but more than James has in France.”
“Convenient,” White said dryly.
“Truly. Between the Festival and this, all of our Field teams are tied up.”