by Gini Koch
“Make her stop.”
“Not just no, but hell no. You’re the one who’s in here trying to kill us,” Martini added. “Why should we make it easy for you?”
“I’m not here to kill you, Your Majesty.”
I didn’t stop bouncing, but Martini and I exchange the classic WTF look. “His majesty would like to have that proven,” I shared between bounces. “We start, on this world, by showing our faces. Actually, we start by knocking and being admitted, not doing some alien form of B and E, but you know, whatever works.”
Someone crawled out from under the bed, opposite from the side Martini was on. I leaped onto his back, wrapped my arms around his neck, and, as he started to flip, my legs around his waist. Tucked my head and held on.
I’d held Martini like this, many times, when his reaction to the adrenaline harpoon was too violent and he was a danger to himself and me. Whoever I had in a full body lock tried to get me off, but he wasn’t as strong as Martini by a long shot. I tightened my hold, particularly the hold on the neck, and started to choke off his air.
Martini was right there. “You okay, baby?”
“Yes. Get a gun and shoot him. Or her. Whatever it is I’m holding.”
Whatever it was flipped so it was on hands and knees and I was in the air, so to speak.
“Male, unless it’s a shapeshifter.”
“Stop . . . her . . . emissary . . . friend . . .”
“Our friends knock, you creep. Our enemies, on the other hand, love to pull this kind of crap. Jeff, a little help?”
“You’re doing so well. And you look great doing it, too. Love that outfit. If it gets wrecked, I’m buying you another one.”
My opponent stopped struggling. “Not an enemy. An emissary.” He sounded pained, as though I’d insulted him.
“Heard you the first time, dude. Didn’t care then, don’t care now. You snuck in. That makes you an enemy, means someone out to harm us. We have a lot of them.”
“I’m not one.”
“Right. Jeff, really, I have to kill him, or you have to help.”
“Oh, kill him.”
“Your Majesty, that would not be wise.”
“You keep on calling me that. Wouldn’t know why.”
“Your name is Jeffrey Stuart Martini . . . on this world. However, you have a name on another world, and you are the next ruler there.”
Martini sighed. “Thanks for stopping by. Give my loathing and complete lack of interest to the folks back home. We’d love to invite you to our wedding, but, gosh, we’ve already booked the room, and we’re full up. Now, I’m going to knock you out, so I don’t have to worry about you hurting someone I care about. No hard feelings.”
“No, wait!” Too late. Martini clobbered him, and we went down onto the floor.
“Um, Jeff? Dead weight on my arms and legs.”
He lifted us both up, I detached, and he dumped the body on the floor. Security chose this moment to arrive. “Commanders, are you all right?”
“Yeah, thanks for the speedy arrival.” Martini had the sarcasm knob up to eleven.
“Sorry, sir. We had some other issues.”
“What?” We asked in unison.
“Variety of small issues.”
“Describe them. In detail.” Martini shifted me to his hip and I wrapped my legs around his waist.
Gladys came on the intercom. “We have a variety of unknown A-C personnel in custody, Commander Martini. All claiming to be emissaries from the home world.”
“How many?”
“With the one in your room, Commander Katt, an even dozen.”
“How did they land without our noticing?”
“Cloaking, I assume, Commander Martini. We have confirmed NASA picked up nothing, but we have done some molecular scans. We have three cloaked ships perched on the tops of Animas, Hatchet, and Chiricahua Peaks.”
“Fabulous,” Martini snarled. “Take him to a holding cell. We’ll be up in a minute.” Security did as requested. “Gladys, please make sure they’re all together—I don’t want to have to wander around too much.”
“Yes, Commander. I’ve alerted the Pontifex and Commander White as well.”
“Thanks.” The com went dead, and Martini sank onto the bed. “Great, they’re here. Perfect timing, too.”
“And, boy, do they want you.”
He shifted me so that I was in his lap with my legs around his back. “I don’t want them. Only want you.”
I leaned up and kissed him. “You have me, Jeff. I promise.”
He held me tightly. “I won’t let them take you away from me.”
I hugged him back. “I won’t let them take you, either. We’ll be fine. I’ll bring along my hairspray and some Everclear.”
Martini managed to laugh. “I do love how you think.”
CHAPTER 26
MARTINI SIGHED. “GUESS WE’D better get moving.”
“I want to change.”
“Why? You look beyond hot.”
“I look naked with some fabric hanging off my shoulders.”
He gave me a wide grin. “Yeah. Like I said . . .”
“Jeff, they’re going to test me. I know I’m going to fail, but I should at least try to represent.”
He shook his head. “Good luck, but okay. However, I want you to wear that again. A lot.”
“You didn’t mind everyone staring at me?”
“Nah. As long as you’re coming home with me.”
I felt his forehead. “You okay?”
Martini kissed me, long, deep, and hard. Couldn’t help it—I started grinding against him. He pulled me closer in to him. “Yeah,” he said as he ended the kiss, slowly. “I just felt everything you went through when you thought we’d lost James. Life’s too short and uncertain. I’m trying to give up the jealousy. It’s hard, but I’d rather put the effort into making you feel safe and happy.”
“I don’t mind that you’re jealous. All that much. I just don’t want you to think I want anyone more than you. Because I don’t.” And after my talk with Reader in the clothing store, I could say that confidently again. I felt the worry about making the wrong lifetime decision slip away. I ignored all the other wedding-related worries—we had bigger problems right now.
He kissed me again. “Mmmm, I’d love to tell you to prove that, but duty calls.” He said the last two words like we were going to clean out a pigsty. Of course, I shared his opinion.
He lifted me off his lap and put me on the ground. “Armani fatigues or my own clothes?”
“Do we care what they think?”
“No, I was asking what you wanted.”
Martini grinned at me. “Have I mentioned how much I love you recently?”
“Yeah, but it never gets old.” I took my clothes off in the closet. Hoped the A-C Elves would get this outfit cleaned fast.
“Oh, go for the fatigues. You look so hot in them.”
“And they’re not sheer. Tito might not recognize me.” Martini laughed. “Jeff, do you think these dozen are going to be it?”
“No, and you don’t either.” He had that right. “I think, no matter what, we have a world of hurt coming toward us.”
“Yeah. At least the emissary wasn’t Moira’s mate. I want to be heavily armed when we cross paths with that chick.”
“Me too. Speaking of which, your purse is in the living area.” I came out of the closet as he got up and went to get it. Martini put it down on the bed. “I want to make sure it’s okay. It was out of your control for a while there.”
“I need my heels. You dump, I’m going to scoot under the bed.”
He did as requested while I dropped to the floor. “Wow. I can’t believe what you manage to stuff in here.” He sounded awed.
“I told you. It’s big and made of cheap leather, so it’s strong and sturdy. I can fit anything in there.”
“Hmmm . . . including something alien.”
I almost bumped my head on the bed frame. “What?” I reached f
or my shoes and stopped. “Jeff?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m not alone down here.”
The bed disappeared. Martini lifted it, and, I was sure, in deference to all my stuff on it, put it aside as opposed to throwing it across the room. Now that I could see clearly, I for sure wasn’t alone. There was a small thing in front of me. Quivering.
“What is this?” It wasn’t something from Earth. I hoped it wasn’t an interstellar snake. Or bomb. Or worse.
“What the hell?” Martini bent down and put his hand out. The quivering thing sniffed, then crawled into his palm. He pulled me to my feet with his other hand.
“What is it?”
“I think . . .” He dug his phone out. “Christopher, sorry, where are you? Oh, good. Look, do you remember that pet thing your mom used to tell us about? Yeah, that. What did it look like, and how big? Amazing. Yeah, I think I’m holding one. Get down here, will you?”
“So that’s a Tribble?”
“Huh?”
Oh, right. They weren’t into science fiction, humorous or otherwise. Guess all the shows and movies were too much like documentaries. I decided not to try to explain. “It’s not dangerous?” It didn’t look dangerous, but I’d seen enough movies. The probability it could go killer or instantly reproduce into the thousands seemed high.
Of course, it looked a lot like a tiny kitten with really, really fluffy fur, only no ears and the eyes looked more like black buttons than cat’s eyes. And it had no tail. But otherwise, just like a fluffy kitten. Or a fluffy ball with tiny legs and paws. If it were a plush toy, it would be the hottest thing for Christmas with little girls. I wondered if Martini would get upset if I suggested we talk to Chuckie about starting a plush line and decided he would.
“No, not dangerous that we were told.” Unlike Security, Christopher had used the real hyperspeed to get to us. “Wow, Kitty, you’re dressed. I was getting used to the negligee look.”
“It’s an outfit. For wearing out to clubs.”
“You’re okay with her wandering around naked?” he asked Martini.
Martini shrugged. “I look at it as her using all the weapons at her disposal.”
“One flash and he’s a changed man.” Christopher laughed. “Fine, no argument from me. So, how’d we get the pet?”
“What’s it called?” I wanted an answer, since Tribble seemed out.
“My mother called it a Poof.”
I looked at them. “You’re kidding.”
“No.” Christopher had the grace to look embarrassed. “It’s a stupid name, at least by Earth standards, I know.”
Martini put the Poof into my hand. “Must be a girl’s pet.” He looked like someone had just tried to put hair bows and a tutu on him.
“I tackled a guy, remember?”
“What?” Christopher yelled. The Poof trembled.
“Uh, I think you’re scaring it.”
“Oh, great. Let’s get this thing back to its owner, shall we?” Martini turned to go, and the Poof leaped out of my hand.
“Jeff!”
The Poof landed on Martini’s shoulder as he was spinning back toward me. It looked happy there.
“Why is this thing on me? Is it attacking and I just can’t tell?”
“Um . . . no.” I got a funny feeling. “Wow. Your mom had one, Christopher?”
“When she was little, yeah. I think it died or something. She didn’t bring it here.”
The Poof looked at me and closed its eyes. I listened. Yep. “It’s purring.”
“What?” Martini tried to look at the Poof by twisting his head, but it was so small, he really couldn’t see it. “Why is it purring?”
“Um . . . I think it thinks it’s yours.”
Christopher started to laugh.
“Christopher? Just guessing, but I’ll wager there’s one of these waiting for you, too. Paul and Michael and their sisters might have one, too. One each.”
Christopher stopped laughing. “What are you talking about?”
“Corgis.”
“What?” They both shouted. The Poof whimpered and tried to crawl under Martini’s collar.
“Get this thing off me!” He was doing the there’s-something-crawling-on-me dance. I tried not to laugh. Failed.
“Jeff, stop. It’s scared. Calm down, and it’ll calm down.” He did as requested and the Poof stopped trying to hide.
“What did you mean by corgis?” Christopher asked.
“The Queen of England has her corgis. I’m betting the A-C royal family has their Poofs.” Reader and I were going to have a field day with this when he was back up and running. “You know, the Royal Pet.”
“Oh, my God. Kill me now, right now.” Martini sounded like he meant it.
“Let’s get upstairs and see if I’m right.” I tried to sound soothing. The snickers probably didn’t help.
“I’m remembering this for later,” Martini said darkly as I put the stuff back into my purse.
“Jeff . . . wait. You said there was something alien in my purse.”
“Oh, hell, right. This thing distracted me.” He grabbed my hand before I could touch the alien thing. “I think it’s a tracking device, but it’s not anything familiar to me.” He pulled out Chuckie’s alien-detector—the piece turned red.
It resembled a small feather or leaf, only it was thicker and seemed made out of a mass of fibers. They glowed, just a bit.
Realization dawned. “That’s why she kissed me.”
“Come again?”
“She kissed me to distract me and slip this into my purse. She said I wasn’t the target. But they knew they would find the target through me. That means Moira’s mate knows exactly where I am. Which also means she’s somewhere around here.”
Martini pulled out his phone and made some calls, with the Poof happily settled back on his shoulder. Christopher shook his head. “I can’t believe this. Any of this. Jeff can’t wander around with that thing on him—he looks like an idiot. I’m not wearing one, either. We’re the damned heads of Field and Imageering.”
“Not the Lords of the Dance? Are you sure?”
“I love you, but I may kill you.” Martini hung up, grabbed a washcloth, put it around Moira’s tracker, and put it in his pocket. “Let’s get upstairs and start the next round of torture.”
CHAPTER 27
WE DID A FAST CHECK BEFORE we left the level. Moira was still sleeping the sleep of the very drugged, and we still had a lot of A-Cs on Security duty around her cell and the drainage pipe entrance. I made Martini and Christopher test the guards for being real A-Cs. None of them asked Martini about the Poof but I could tell they all wanted to. So could he.
“I hate my life, have I mentioned that?” he asked as the three of us went up in the elevator. He kept his arm around my shoulders, which I didn’t mind at all, though it did make me wonder if his no-more-jealousy resolve was going to disappear fast.
“Could be worse. You could be the one whose brains were bashed in.” I was relieved I could say this calmly and without wanting to cry. Knowing Reader was going to be okay was a huge relief. I tried to remember the thing I knew I’d forgotten about all that. Couldn’t. Decided we had more pressing matters. “Maybe we can get a straight answer out of the emissaries as to what’s going on with Moira and the rest of the Free.”
“Can’t wait,” Martini muttered.
We arrived at one of the science floors. The holding cell was easy to find: It was surrounded by A-Cs, all of them talking quietly to each other, so the hum was pretty loud. One of the older Dazzlers saw us coming, and her mouth dropped open. “Jeff, how did you get that?”
“Unwillingly.”
Her eyes were wide. “Do you know what it is?”
He didn’t answer, so I did. “We think it’s a Poof.”
She nodded. “Yes. Only the royal family and their closest retainers are allowed to have them. They’re very rare.”
Martini winced. “Oh. Good. You know we live in America. N
o royalty here.” She nodded, but she didn’t seem convinced. We kept on moving.
Reached the holding cell to see a dozen people in it. The cell was really one of their big fishbowl conference rooms, adapted for security issues. The main difference was it had an individual intercom system attached to it.
The prisoners were dressed in what I called Renaissance Faire Spiffy. They looked like something out of that time period but not quite accurate. Seeing the men in hose and long, loose-fitting fancy shirts was interesting. I didn’t think I’d ever want to see Martini in the garb, but he would fill the hose out a lot better than the examples before me. The women were going for a similar look, only with a little Grecian Formula thrown in. It was as if they’d taken a look at our historical dress and tried to imitate it, with limited success.
All of the prisoners were decent-looking. Interestingly enough to me most were not as good looking as our Earth A-Cs. “So, the looks, for the most part, resided with your race?”
“I suppose. Maybe you’re just jaded.” Christopher sounded amused.
Martini laughed. “She’s used to looking at me. All others fade away.”
“True.” I squeezed his waist. “However, I’ve seen a lot of A-Cs, male and female, and while these are all attractive, they are not drop-dead gorgeous. Your father is, but these, not so much.”
“I hate it when you mention that you think my dad’s hot,” Martini muttered.
“Jeff, you look exactly like him. If I think you’re hot, it stands to reason I think he’s hot. I am not lusting after your father. I’m just happy to know how hot you’re going to look as you get older.”
He hugged me. “That’s okay, then.”
White joined us. “Interesting. I see you’ve dressed, Miss Katt.”
“Yes, I decided to keep the outfit for when I have to convince you of something.”
“Good, anticipation is the key to any good relationship.”
“Mister White? Why are most of them not as hot looking as your people?”
“Bluntness is your specialty. No idea. They look normal to me.”
“They don’t look unnormal to me. But they don’t look like all of you, either.”
“Granddad wasn’t all that great, if you recall. Maybe we just have a concentration of hotness. Does it matter?” Martini was looking at the Poof again.