by Gini Koch
“Where are you going with this?” Tito asked.
“Not sure yet.” I was almost there, though. A strong suspicion niggled. “Eddy, I need Chuckie’s files on us, and I need them yesterday.”
“Working on it,” he snapped. “And the ten other things you want immediately, too. I’m only human.”
“True enough. Mister White, why were the Peregrines sent to us?”
“Ostensibly because the flock was ready and they’re a traditional gift.”
“Uh-huh. A traditional gift that came with gift cards strongly suggesting Chuckie, Abigail, and Naomi needed to take up residence in the Embassy. A traditional gift that warned us to keep an eye on Chuckie. If we know what’s coming, they know what’s coming. We’re England, they’re the U.S. They have more troops, but they’re waiting for proof that they need to get involved.”
“An entire space armada isn’t proof?” Franklin asked.
“Colonel, how fast does the U.S. commit troops when our allies get pissed off at each other and take their familial disputes out of the private arena and into the public one?”
“We’re slow to commit,” he admitted.
“Right. Because we don’t want to back the wrong side, make the problem bigger than it is, be accused of trying to take over. We want to see if our
allies can figure out what to do on their own. If they can’t, and it looks bad, and they beg us, then we come in.”
“That’s standard for most of the superpowers,” Oliver said.
“Most countries, really,” Franklin added.
“Right. Well, as far as superpowers go, the Alpha Centauri system has way more of them than we do.”
“But what are they waiting for?” Tito asked. “Reynolds and Jeff are gone, we have superbeing clusters all of a sudden, international unrest of the highest order, and a huge war looming.”
“I don’t know what they’re waiting for us to do. But until we do it, they’re staying out of our affairs.”
“Speaking of surrender,” Armstrong said quietly, “you do realize that the moment the head of the C.I.A. and Department of Defense realize Mister Reynolds is missing and presumed dead, they’ll move Esteban into his position. And if your suspicions are correct—and I’m sure they are—he’ll suggest the U.S. broker a surrender to the invaders.”
“Wow, Senator, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m glad you’re with us on this one. Right you are, and the Bad Guy Scheme du Jour falls nicely into place.” We needed help. I needed help. “I need to call James. Or my mom. Or James and my mom.”
“Wait,” Stryker said. “I think you need to see this.”
Yi
CHAPTER 73
STRYKER WAS BUSY AT HIS KEYBOARD. I trotted over. “It’s a computer screen with what looks like code on it. Why am I looking at it?”
“Okay, I meant I need to tell you what it says. I’m decoding in my head, because I want to make sure I’m on the right track. Chuck’s not above installing a kill switch.”
“You mean, you guess the decode wrong and it all disappears?”
“Right. So . . . who’s Captain America?”
I took a moment and refrained from a variety of snappy comebacks. “I assume you mean, do I think Captain America is a code name for someone, right?”
“Yes.”
Considered the options. “Got to be James.”
“He’s not a Captain any more,” Naomi said.
“No, but Captain America is like the perfect man, and he’s also the leader of the Avengers.”
“Whoever it is, he’s supposed to take control of these files if he’s not incapacitated,” Stryker shared.
“See? I’m right, it’s James. He lives for the light reading.”
Stryker nodded. “Makes sense. But let me run the others by you. If you can figure them out without too much trouble, I can feel confident I have it all right.”
“I’m flattered.”
“You’re the protocol, Kitty. The first thing I decoded said ‘Run this through a CAT scan.’ It’s not flattery so much as doing what Chuck said to do.”
“You say tomato, I say whatever.”
He sighed. “So, Wolverine, that’s you, right?
“Right.
“Professor X?”
“Mister White.” I’d called White that during Operation Confusion.
“Cyclops?”
I was tempted to say Jeff, but thought about it. “Betting that’s Christopher.” Based on the glaring, which I was sure Chuckie had noted as I had, and Christopher’s ability these days to see far, far away in his mind’s eye.
“Incredible Hulk?”
Nice to be right. “Jeff.”
“Wonder Twins?”
“Naomi and Abigail.” They weren’t actually twins, but I called them that all the time and I knew Chuckie did, too.
“Thor?”
“Paul Gower, our Pontifex.” He wasn’t a blond god from Asgaard, but he was carrying a godlike consciousness inside him.
“Beast?”
“Tito.”
“Huh?” Tito asked. “Why would I be called a beast?”
“You’re the doctor, you take out A-Cs with your fists alone, blah, blah, blah. It’s not an insult. Beast is a cool, kick-butt, genius doctor in the X-Men, Tito.”
“Okay. I guess.”
I decided not to tell him that Beast was also covered in blue fur. Why spoil the moment?
“Wow,” Stryker said. “One that’s not actually a comic book character. Joe Montana?”
“Kevin.” I was good. Then again, I knew my source and he knew me. “Good thing I’m around to figure this out.”
Big George nodded. “Your C.I.A. file indicated you would be. ‘Subject exhibits extreme random tendencies.’”
“What’s that mean?” Jeremy asked.
“Means luck,” Buchanan said. “And they’re not wrong.”
“Your C.I.A. file also indicates a strong likelihood to contact the head of the P.T.C.U. for advice and counsel,” Big George shared. “It also indicates that you listen to and tend to abide by that counsel.”
“Just call me a Mamma’s Girl and proud of it.”
“Weapon X?” Stryker asked, getting us back on track.
“My daughter, Jamie.”
“New Mutants?”
“All the rest of the hybrid babies coming.”
“Gambit?”
“Tim.”
“You’re sure?” White asked.
“If we didn’t have Captain America as the guy who’s in charge of the files, then I’d say Gambit was James. But considering what Tim did during Operation Confusion, I’m really damned positive.”
“Works for me,” Stryker said. “You don’t have to be right for all of them, but you have to think you’re right.”
“I’m not even going to ask you to explain that.”
Stryker shrugged and went on. “S.H.I.E.L.D.?”
“Claudia, Lorraine, and the flyboys. Len and Kyle. Malcolm. All the people who kick butt with us who aren’t the official leaders or extraspecial mutants.”
“X-Factor?”
That one I had to consider. Unless I was wrong about my code name being Wolverine, and I really found that hard to believe, I had no clear idea. The X-factor was the unknown, really. Oh. Duh. “Serene.”
“Ma and Pa Kent.”
“Alfred and Lucinda.”
“Indiana Jones.”
“My dad.”
Stryker snorted. “If you say so.”
“My dad’s cool, and I do say so.”
“Black Widow.”
“Speaking of the head of the P.T.C.U. My mom.”
“Really? Your father’s still alive.”
“Yeah, because of my mom, trust me.” Black Widow had no real superpowers, she was just totally badass and beyond impressively trained. Just like Mom. Who I desperately wanted to call but now refused to, lest Hacker International get to feel even slightly superior.
“Last one’s
Nick Fury.”
I laughed. “Chuckie.”
“He kept a file on himself?” Armstrong asked.
“He’s thorough, and he pays attention. And, let’s face it, Nick Fury’s the Supreme Commander of S.H.I.E.L.D., isn’t he?” Of course, I thought of Jeff as Superman, Christopher as the Flash, and Chuckie as Batman, and I was fairly sure Chuckie knew it, because I’d said so in his presence at least once. But this was his code for me to understand, not mine for him.
“Okay, good enough. I’m going to hit the decode. Let’s all hope Kitty’s right.” Stryker hit something on his keyboard. A nearby printer started making a lot of noise.
He got up, raced over, and took a page out of the tray. His whole body relaxed. “That was it. There’s a lot more than the ones we went over, Kitty. He might have done everyone in your Embassy; maybe all of Centaurion Division.”
“Nice to know he has a hobby that keeps him off the streets. Where is the information on the Avenger Initiative?”
“Waiting for it to print out.”
Big George went to another printer. “Who do I give these to?” He had a thick stack of pages in his hand.
“What are they?”
“These are C.I.A’s confidential files on all of you.”
“Why’d you print them instead of give us to them electronically?”
I got the “duh” look. I was really scoring with that one this weekend. Oh, well, it was probably better than the “you so crazy” look. “I’m ensuring the electronic trail ends here.”
Before I could ask about that, I heard a soft mewling and looked into my purse. There was a Poof there. Not Harlie or Poofikins. I was fairly sure it was Jamie’s Poof. “Why are you here? Is Jamie alright?”
The Poof purred, so I belayed panic on that front.
“Did Jamie send you?”
Another mewl. Might mean yes. Might mean no. Might mean the Poof was hungry. I couldn’t tell.
The Poof jumped out of my purse and onto my shoulder. It nuzzled me, which was always nice. Bruno woke up and came over to stand next to me in that “this one’s mine” way all animals seem to have.
“Um, a cuteness break is always appreciated, but we’re kind of at DEFCON Universal Soldier here, so if you’re here to pass on a message, Kitty needs some help.”
The Poof jumped over to White and mewled at him. “I’m no clearer than Missus Martini. Are you requesting reinforcements?”
The Poof heaved a Poofy sigh. It jumped onto the floor in front of Bruno and mewled rather pitifully. A Po
of appealing to a Peregrine for help? Apparently wonders never ceased. Or this Poof had no ego attached to asking for assistance.
Bruno warbled nicely at the Poof, then looked at me. Then back at the Poof. Then at me. The Poof. Me.
“Okay, stop giving yourself whiplash. You’re right, I forgot something.”
“You talk to tjhe giant peacock?” Stryker asked. “And it talks back to you?”
“Later, Eddy.”
“What did you forget?” White asked.
“The Poofs asked me to do something for them when they went to find and help Jeff and Chuckie.”
“You talk to the Poofs, too?” Stryker asked. “For real and not pretend?”
“Later, Eddy. Like when this is all over later.”
“You said you’d try to find the supersoldiers,” Jennifer supplied.
“Supersoldiers?” Stryker asked. “You mean Chuck wasn’t kidding, they’re real?”
“Later, Eddy. Shut up or die, Eddy.”
“Are you supposed to find them to stop them from attacking?” Jeremy asked.
“No. To keep them from being destroyed.”
Yi
CHAPTER 74
“WHY WOULD THE POOFS want the supersoldiers protected?” Buchanan asked. “They’re killing machines of the highest order.”
“Killing machines that can help us fight whatever’s coming.”
“How?” Franklin asked.
“There’s a controller for the twelve that attacked us at the President’s Ball. We destroyed three of them, but it was amazingly difficult.” And had only been achieved because Jeff was high on adrenaline, he and Christopher were enhanced, and Chuckie had figured out how the remote control worked.
“Difficult enough to face space invaders?” Stryker asked.
“I hope we’re able to find out.” After all, ACE had insinuated that the supersoldiers not being ready was the concern, not that they existed. “Problem is, Chuckie is the only one who currently knows how to control the nine we captured. He may be the only one who actually knows where they are.”
“I guarantee James knows,” Abigail said. “He’s the Head of Field.”
“Good point, Abby. Ravi, I need you to multitask.”
“Kind of hard, Kitty.”
“Ravi, it’s the end of the world as we know it if you’re actually less good at what you do than what you were when I was in college.”
He sighed. “What miracle is it you want me to perform while I continue to try to avoid my head being blown off?”
“I need you to connect with the Dulce Science Center. They’re reverse engineering an android we managed to capture yesterday. See if you can help them. More to the point, see if you can figure out where said android called home and where it was ‘born’ if they’re different.”
Ravi heaved another martyred sigh. “I need someone to help me with the headset and the phone.”
“I’ll do it,” Jennifer said. Ravi visibly perked up.
“Thanks. So, Eddy, the printer’s stopped printing. What does Chuckie actually want us to put into action?”
“Kitty, there’s nothing,” Stryker said, sounding stressed. “I mean, there’s all the data on all of you, but when I get to the part about the Avenger Initiative, all it says is ‘go with the crazy.’ ”
Jamie’s Poof jumped up and down. Bruno warbled and flapped his wings.
My brain nudged again. “Nobody say anything. Don’t forget whatever it is you’re thinking, just don’t say anything right now.” I took a deep breath, let it out, and focused on the Inner Me. “Big George.”
“Yes, Kitty?”
“There are superbeing clusters in Paris and in the Chaco area of Paraguay. I’m sure they passed some form of electronic information. We need it.”
“Why?”
“Because we need to find the supersoldiers and the androids and reprogram them.”
No one spoke. Waited for the sounds of crickets. Got electronic beeping instead. Same thing, really. Finally Tito, who’d apparently been chosen as Group Spokesperson, opened his mouth. “How?”
“Um, we’re standing in the middle of Hacker International. What do you mean ‘how?’ Will Smith reprogrammed an alien craft in like five minutes in Independence Day.”
“Kitty, you do know that’s fiction, right?” Stryker asked.
“I point to the alien armada coming to destroy us, my missing husband who happens to be an alien from a different solar system, and the fact that we can travel via the subspatial time warp filtered through black hole technology that is the gates—just for starters, mind you—and say that Independence Day strikes me as more of a blueprint written by someone in the know than a fictional piece.”
“She has a point,” Franklin said dryly. “I’d also like to mention that we don’t have time to nurture the idea of failure. Do what she wants, and do it now.”
“Colonel, don’t you have to take all this up to higher authorities?” Buchanan asked.
“I do, when I have a credible idea of what to tell them. They know about the impending invasion, believe me.”
“Then why did they let the One World Festival go on?”
Franklin shrugged. “To avoid mass panic, among other reasons. If we can avert the invasion, we don’t have to let any civilians know about the danger.”
“Ah, the Men in Black theory. It’s sound, I’ll give you that.” But it lacked a certain something, which was any plan
for what to actually do to avert the armada. Possibly because there was no way to avert it. Negative thinking. Had to stop that. “Can we somehow get visuals on Paris and Paraguay, where our teams are?”
There was a lot of muttering from Hacker International, but two of the smaller screens in the room came to life. On the left we had lush French countryside and on the right we had the wilds of the Chaco. On the left we had a lot of huge, scary, metal-encased monsters going wild. On the right we had a lot of huge, scary, non-metal-encased monsters trying to outdo the ones on the left.
We watched a number of jets flying around all of them. I was pretty sure I could spot the jet Reader was flying based on the fact that it was the one doing the most awesome job avoiding getting hit, which was, from the amount of firepower the supersoldiers were sending out, impressive. But the team in France wasn’t slowing the supersoldiers down.
Same
situation over in Paraguay. I could spot Tim and the flyboys based on skill and flying signatures. And while the superbeings weren’t as weaponized as the supersoldiers, they had their own naïve charms in terms of horrifying appendages and bodily fluids and such, all aimed at our team.
However, it was only going to be a matter of time before someone on our side managed to break through. Or until we’d blown up both countries to tiny bits. Or worse.
A jet was batted out of the sky by a supersoldier, and we all gasped. It crashed into the earth, but its pilot made it out. Only to be slammed into the ground under a different supersoldier’s feet. More gasps, and I heard a couple of sobs, too. Another casualty. We needed to stop this. Part of me wished I hadn’t asked to see what was happening, but we needed to know. I needed to know. I worked better seriously pissed off.
“What is the crazy you’re going for, Missus Martini?” White asked quietly. “I believe we need to get whatever it is into action.”
He was right. And I needed to get back into the frame of mind to give orders and keep people going. Took a deep breath, let it out, and turned away from the screens to face the others.