Alien Education

by Gini Koch

  Wasn’t walking forward with the right amount of enthusiasm, and I knew it, since the stage manager hissed, “Move it!” to me. So much for the idea that being the FLOTUS got you any respect backstage.

  Either he’d heard the stage manager or he was used to some guests not being thrilled to be on the show, because Adam jumped up out of his seat, trotted over to me, and escorted me to mine, potentially earning my lifelong love and adoration. He settled me into my so-called chair that was a lot more like a barstool with a back. I wasn’t tall, so it was a little awkward. Of course, Kristie wasn’t that tall, either, and she was making it work.

  “Missus Martini,” she said, beaming and perky beyond belief, “thank you for joining us on Good Day USA!”

  “Happy to be here,” I totally lied. “And please, call me Kitty.”

  She and Adam exchanged thrilled glances. I sincerely doubted they were as excited as they looked. They were the top morning show in the country, and they hadn’t gotten there by being dull to watch. And on the morning shows, reactions were Broadcast with a Capital B.

  “Thank you . . . Kitty,” Kristie said, sounding as thrilled and perky as she looked. “Gosh, we have so many questions for you, don’t we, Adam?”

  “We do!” Perk, perk, perk. These two were the King and Queen of Perkiness. “Kitty . . . gosh, I can’t believe I get to speak to you so informally, Kristie and I have been prepping questions nonstop since you agreed to come onto Good Day USA!, and now that you’re here, I’m so excited that I just can’t remember half of them!”

  Prayed that these two weren’t going to expect me to provide both questions and answers, because, if so, this program was about to go way down in the ratings. But a response seemed expected. “Um, that’s really sweet of you to say.”

  “Isn’t she great, folks?” Kristie perked at the audience, as if I’d done an Oprah and just given everyone a car.

  The audience applauded hysterically. There had to be a sign somewhere telling them to do so, but I couldn’t spot it from my vantage point of trying not to look at anyone or anything while still appearing poised and confident. Was pretty sure I was failing at all of it.

  “Kitty, what’s it like to be a human and yet part of the American Centaurion population on Earth?” Adam asked, apparently having managed to remember at least one of his prepared questions. He’d traded perky for inquisitive. So at least there was that.

  “It’s great. The A-Cs are wonderful people.”

  “They’re stronger and faster than us, aren’t they?” Adam asked. “And better looking, too.”

  “Well, yes.” The A-Cs had two hearts, which meant they could move so fast a human couldn’t see them, and they were also super strong. I felt that hyperspeed was the better of the two, but I wasn’t going to complain about the extra strength, either. They also had extremely fast healing and regeneration, which was a huge bonus for those in active and dangerous roles. And, as Adam had said, they were all, to a person, gorgeous, representing every skin tone on Earth and every body type, too, as long as the term “hardbody” was applied as well. “But I don’t think you have anything to feel inadequate about, Adam.”

  This earned me wild applause from the audience and some women whooped their approval. Adam looked flattered and a little embarrassed. So, presumably I was doing okay. As long as they didn’t ask if I had any A-C bells and whistles, we were good. Because I did, and no one wanted me talking about it.

  Due to the mother-and-child feedback that had happened when I’d been pregnant with and given birth to our daughter, Jamie, I’d reverse inherited the A-C super strength and hyperspeed. I’d also gotten a talent, and one that wasn’t normal for A-Cs.

  Talents didn’t go to every A-C, but they got talents far more frequently than would seem statistically normal. Jeff was an empath—in fact, due to being given Surcenthumain, aka the Superpowers Drug, by some of our enemies, he was likely the strongest empath in the galaxy. Empaths felt emotions, everyone’s emotions, all the time. They had ways to block the emotions, but still, they were walking lie-detectors, among other things.

  Imageers had been more powerful before our enemies had introduced a virus that successfully muted their powers. Done, most likely, to prevent Jeff’s cousin, Christopher White, from discovering who our late, great enemy, the Mastermind, had really been. Before that, though, imageers could not only manipulate any image but they could read them, too, the pictures making a copy of mind and soul as well as the body, at least as Christopher had explained it.

  There were also dream and memory readers, but that talent was extremely rare. The third most common power, however, was also the one that got the least amount of respect—troubadours. This power was all in the voice, expressions, and body language. In other words, perfect for actors and politicians, which was why it was looked down upon by most of the A-C population. Of course, what most of that population hadn’t realized was that it made troubadours incredibly powerful and totally stealth.

  However, my talent was none of these. My talent was being Dr. Doolittle. Thankfully there wasn’t supposed to be an animal segment on today’s show, because the chances of me having a chat with said animal would be high. I couldn’t help it—animals liked to talk to me.

  “What’s it like to be married to an A-C?” Kristie asked, bringing perky back.

  Well, at least these were softball questions, so I had that going for me, though I’d have rather been listening to Justin Timberlake bringing “SexyBack.” But what I wanted and what I got were not always one and the same.

  Of course, had to make sure I censored my reply, because, as far as I was concerned, the number one best part of being married to my husband was Jeff’s bedroom prowess and regenerative abilities, and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that no one wanted me sharing that with anyone, let alone the largest morning show viewership in the world.

  “Wonderful. Jeff is a wonderful husband and father, just like he’s a wonderful leader.” I was using the word “wonderful” too much. But this wasn’t my element and six in the morning really wasn’t my time zone, and despite everything I was still having trouble focusing. “I’m always proud of him because he always does what’s best for his people.”

  “Do you mean for American Centaurion, for Centaurion Division, for the American people, or for the world at large?” Kristie asked, sadly trading perky for this show’s version of hard-hitting. “He is the King Regent of Earth for the Annocusal Royal Family, who control all of the Alpha Centauri system, isn’t that right?”

  “That’s right. And I mean for all of them. Jeff’s always been focused on protecting the people of Earth when he was in and then the head of Centaurion Division, even before he became a Representative, let alone the Vice President or President.”

  Managed not to say more about the whole King Regent thing, in part because that made me the Queen Regent and in other part because Jeff was working really hard to ensure that the Earth governments remained at least somewhat stable. It was a very interesting time to be on Earth, but I didn’t want to share that with the cast, crew, and viewership of Good Day USA! if I could possibly help it.

  “What’s it like being Queen Regent?” Adam asked, destroying my hopes of the conversation going elsewhere.

  “It’s fine. I’m more focused on the duties of the Office of the First Lady and my family.” Thanked Jeff’s Chief of Staff, Rajnish Singh, for drilling that line into me. Of course, Raj had been the one who’d arranged this little shindig, so my mental thanks were only halfhearted. Raj was a troubadour, so to him, this wasn’t a Stress Test of Horror, it was just a great way to keep Jeff’s approval rating high.

  Kristie and Adam both looked at me expectantly. Apparently more of a response was expected. “Um, sorry, but honestly, I’m a little nervous. This is my first time on TV.”

  This earned me huge belly laughs from Kristie, Adam, and the studio audience. “Oh, i
sn’t our First Lady just a hoot and a half?” Adam asked the crowd.

  I’d been told there were two large TV screens where the audience could see them, and there was also a smaller one in front of the stage, where the hosts and guests could watch whatever footage the show was airing, so that actors would know for sure what scene from their latest movie or TV show was being touted and therefore react accordingly. Hadn’t spotted this before, but Adam and Kristie stopped grinning like the Joker and Harley Quinn and both looked ahead and sort of down.

  Followed their lead, found the screen, and saw that it had images on it. Images of me.

  CHAPTER 2

  THERE I WAS, in my pink linen suit, taking down what looked like a terrorist six years ago. The start of Operation Fugly and my new life, really.

  “I’m just amazed you were so brave on the spot,” Kristie said as everyone watched me slam my Mont Blanc pen into someone’s back.

  In real life that had been a superbeing, and I’d put the pen into the jellyfish-like thing on its back, between its wings, into what I later found out was a parasite, at least as far as Centaurion Division was concerned. I’d discovered what parasites really were during our last fun frolic with world- and galaxy-ending danger, but that wasn’t important now. Ah, the good old days, when Christopher and the Imageering team were able to change images on the fly. Missed those days. A lot. I wouldn’t be here right now if those days hadn’t been taken away from us.

  “I’m just amazed that anyone ever buys linen,” was the only thing I could think of to say. “Seriously, I didn’t sleep in that suit, it just looks like it.”

  This comment earned roars of laughter from the studio audience, Kristie, and Adam. Apparently my role was to keep it light and keep things funny. Go me.

  The scene shifted. Now we got to see me giving the eulogy for Michael Gower at the end of Operation Infiltration, which I still considered our darkest day. This wasn’t a funny moment, and I was relieved that no one was laughing. We didn’t stay on this too long, thankfully. But what we moved to made me cringe inside.

  Sure enough, there it was, the impetus for all the Code Name: First Lady crap. I was on a Harley, Jeff was in a helicopter, leaning out to grab me off said Harley. It looked like an action scene out of any movie you’d care to name.

  “So,” Kristie said, as the screen went blank and she turned back to me, “as we’ve seen, you’ve been on television a lot.”

  “Not intentionally.”

  Adam chuckled. “I need to ask the question that’s foremost on everyone’s minds, Kitty. When is Code Name: First Lady going to hit the screens?” Well, at least he wasn’t asking me about being Queen Regent anymore.

  Hoped I had a poker face firmly in place. “I really think that’s a joke, not something that’s seriously being considered by anyone.” This was a lie, because, sadly, I knew it was something that was being heavily pursued by at least one Hollywood studio.

  We’d managed to keep Code Name: First Lady from being created only by applying a great deal of political pressure and using the old “for the good of the nation” speech a lot. Didn’t feel like going into that here, though.

  Kristie shook her head. “We know it’s not a joke. And, let’s be honest—it’s what the people want, to see a movie about all you and your husband have done to protect the world.” At this, the studio audience started cheering. Tried not to hate them a little. Failed.

  “Well, I honestly don’t know that it would be that interesting.”

  Kristie and Adam both snorted, then turned toward the screen again. Managing to once again not wince, I turned toward it, too.

  This time they had my “get it together, you jerks” speech from Operation Immigration going, when I was addressing the conclave of religious leaders and hadn’t known I was going live to the world. On the plus side, I looked totally in charge. On the negative side, this was, admittedly, interesting. Chose not to ask why, if they had archival footage, anyone would want to see a dramatic reenactment, because I wasn’t stupid and I knew why—it was fun.

  We were treated to this for a while, then the picture changed again. This time, the video showed something recent. Very recent. As in, last week recent.

  Jeff and I were sitting at the front of the General Assembly of the United Nations. Normally we wouldn’t have been in there unless we were addressing the UN. And, in that case, we’d have been waiting in a nice antechamber until it was time to go on. However, due to the problems that a whole bunch of aliens unexpectedly arriving had created for Earth in general and us in particular, there we were. Operation Immigration continued to pay dividends in terms of putting me places I didn’t want to be.

  We were up front and center because the Secretary General had decided the U.S. would get the prime seats at that Assembly. We weren’t in the official delegates’ chairs, but were sitting behind America’s delegation, where support staff normally hung out. The chairs were far less comfy than the ones the delegates had, but that wasn’t the issue. No, the issue was that my Official First Lady Color of iced blue matched the fabric of these chairs perfectly. So perfectly that it looked like my disembodied head was floating near Jeff’s shoulder, since I was in a long-sleeved dress, versus a suit, for this particular shindig.

  The audience tittered, and I couldn’t blame them. Would have made a comment, but the sound was going and people onscreen were talking.

  “It is a historic day for our countries, our world, and our galaxy,” the Secretary General of the United Nations said, sounding really excited. Wondered if he’d gotten his start on a morning show. “Not only are we inducting several new sovereign nations into our ranks, but we are also officially joining the greater galactic community as Earth and the Solaris System become a part of the Aligned Worlds of the Milky Way Galaxy.”

  This earned a lot of applause both onscreen and from my live studio audience.

  “After much worldwide deliberation,” the Secretary General went on, after the applause in the General Assembly had died down, “the United Nations has reached a unanimous decision on who will represent Earth’s positions within the Union of Aligned Worlds. I am pleased and proud to announce that Katherine Katt-Martini has agreed to represent Earth and all of her interests!”

  More wild applause from the screen and the studio as we watched me walk carefully up to the podium and start my address. At least I looked like a normal person again, since the carpet and walls were not matching my dress and making me fade away like the Invisible Woman.

  Thankfully, the video feed stopped. “How exciting is it to be representing Earth in the way you are now?” Kristie asked.

  “I’m happy to do my part for my country and my world.”

  “Did you have to campaign hard to get the position?” Adam asked.

  “Um, no. Not really.” Not at all. Actually, I’d done everything in my power to abdicate the responsibility. But when the majority of the world and religious leaders say, “you da girl,” it’s hard to say no. Not that I hadn’t, but I’d been overruled. By everyone.

  Kristie laughed. “I’m sure you didn’t. I’d want Code Name: First Lady to represent us, too!” Chose not to respond, which sort of worked out. “So, can you tell us about the Reptilians? I understand one was the Matron of Honor for your wedding.”

  Managed not to blink at this sort of left turn. “Um, they’re great?”

  Kristie looked at her notes. “Oh, and you had a Feliniad and a Canus Majorian in your wedding as well?”

  “Um, yes. Yes, I did. And a Free Woman.”

  “What I believe you call Amazons, is that right?”

  “Yes. Um, they don’t mind. It’s kind of a compliment.” At least, Queen Renata of the Free Women always seemed okay with being compared to Wonder Woman’s kith and kin. And her daughters, Rahmi and Rhee, who’d been sent to stay with me in a sort of Boarding School for Those Who Will Be Kicking Butt way ju
st before Jamie had turned one, were also just fine with being called Amazons.

  “I’m sure they don’t!” This woman’s perkiness knew no bounds.

  Morning people were not my people. I was only still upright because the chairs were designed to kind of hold you up without appearing to do so and because I’d hooked my heels over the top rung of the stool portion so I couldn’t slide off. At least, I hoped I couldn’t.

  Might have been upright, might have been talking, might have been hella uncomfortable, but what I wasn’t was really conscious. I’d been awake for at least three hours, but those were hours far earlier than I normally managed to drag out of bed, and I was running on a form of autopilot with my main focus being keeping my eyes open. Felt a yawn trying to claw its way out and clamped my jaw. Meaning I couldn’t say anything.

  My silence was noticed. “So,” Adam asked, “what are they like?”

  Yawn abated! Now I wasn’t sure what we were talking about anymore. “Um, the Amazons? Or the Reptilians? Or the others?”

  “Any of them or all of them!” Kristie said. “And all the other aliens you’ve met, too! You’re living a life of such excitement!” Perk, perk, perk. This woman needed to tone down the perk or someone needed to smother her.

  Pondered my reply. It was probably not a great idea to share that Reptilians were basically giant lizard people I called Iguanodons, that the Feliniads were Cat People, and that I called the Canus Majorians the Major Doggies. I might have been barely conscious, but some form of self-preservation was working. Went with my go-to answer whenever someone wanted to ask about the glamour and wonder that were alien life-forms.

  “They’re people. Just like us. I mean, they don’t look like us, in that sense, but they’re pretty much people.”

  “Well, the A-C’s on Earth aren’t all that much like us, now, are they?”

  Did not like where this was going. “They’re a lot more like us than not, honestly. There are differences, of course, but the people of Alpha Four of the Alpha Centauri System are more like us than not. More like us than the Reptilians, for example, at least in terms of external appearance.”