Alien vs. Alien (29 page)

CHAPTER 51

T
HE NATIONAL MALL
wasn’t a big shopping center. It was a huge park with a lot of national landmarks and awesome museums bordering it. The Lincoln Memorial was at one end, and the Capitol Building was at the other, with the Washington Monument sort of in the middle. Aerosmith had played here, as well as a lot of other bands, and the International One World Festival was just the latest in a long line of events that had been held here.

Being Tourist Mecca for the D.C. area meant, in the weird way I was getting used to with the East Coast, that the Mall didn’t have great parking as a general rule. On an average day it was hard to find parking. Today it was insane. “Malcolm, what are we going to do with the limo? Are you dropping us off and going back to the Embassy?”

“No. Just hang on.” We were near the Smithsonian Metro station when he found what he was looking for—the entrance to an underground parking garage. It had a big sign stating that it was for Employees Only and that there was no event or Mall parking ever allowed. It also required a keycard for entry. Buchanan pulled a card out of his wallet, put it in, and the gate raised. We drove in.

“You don’t work here for real, do you?” Maybe this was the P.T.C.U.’s hidden headquarters.

“No. The P.T.C.U. and the C.I.A. have all the cool toys.”

“Works for me.” Maybe I’d still check it out later, when things were quiet, to see if this was where Mom and her Gang of Cool Kick Butt Cats hung out during the nonengagement hours.

We parked. It was Sunday, so the parking lot wasn’t packed, but Buchanan still chose a section that was pretty isolated. We unloaded, parrot and all, and Buchanan hit the Invisibility Shield. The limo disappeared.

“Nifty. How will we find it again to ensure we can leave, let alone ensure it’s not hit by someone else trying to park?”

Buchanan pointed to the sign above where he’d parked us—Reserved for Government Vehicles.

“Hope no one tries to come in to catch up on their work while everyone else is having fun.”

Buchanan shrugged. “I have the laser shield activated, too. They’ll bounce off. We can worry about the car or we can do what we came for.”

“Good point. Again.” We headed off for the real action while I worked on not allowing my stress level to affect my ability to look at the big picture. Wasn’t impressed with my results.

Felt a nudge. Looked down to see Bruno walking alongside, like the best trained dog in the world. It was oddly reassuring to have him here, though. He looked up at me and gave me the “we’ll handle it” look. He then craned his neck up so I could easily and surreptitiously pat his head.

“Shall we move at hyperspeed?” White asked me, with a smile for Bruno.

“Not sure the parrot can handle it, to be honest.”

“We’re not far from the main activity area,” Buchanan said. I could tell he and Tito had noted Bruno’s arrival, but Armstrong seemed blissfully unaware and I decided it was smarter to keep him that way. “Well, I mean where the main stage is set up. Frankly, the entire Mall is going to be packed.”

He wasn’t kidding. We’d parked in a building near to the Smithsonian’s Castle, so that was the part of the Mall’s middle section we headed for. As we reached our destination I took a good look around. The Festival wasn’t overstating it about either being International or One World. It was like the biggest street fair ever, multiplied by a factor of at least ten. If you couldn’t spot at least a dozen people from somewhere other than the U.S. in under a minute, it was likely you couldn’t see. And if you couldn’t spot at least two dozen people from the States in that same timeframe, you were blind and probably deaf as well.

Speaking of deaf, if I’d thought the background noise from the Dome was loud, the noise level here was intense. People were, for the most part, having a really fun time. There were booths aplenty, as well as what looked like roving street performers, in addition to several stages dotted all over. All of them had something going on, and every booth had lines at least four people wide and ten deep.

The smells from the myriad food stalls dotted all over happily overpowered most of the smell of lots of people in onӀpily e place. I’d had two gate transfers recently, so the scents didn’t make me even remotely hungry, though some of them were giving it a good run in the Smells So Good You Have To Eat It category.

It was easy to see why Naomi and Abigail hadn’t been able to spot anyone using their eyes—our group got separated merely because we headed toward what Armstrong indicated was the main stage at the same time a swell of people headed the other way, and I had a couple moments of panic before I could spot Buchanan, who was the tallest, or White, who was wearing the Parrot Identifier.

We regrouped, and I put my purse over my head, after checking to make sure I still had Poofs on Board. I did, several unnamed ones in addition to Harlie and Poofikins. Good. Poof hitchhikers were never an issue.

“This is insane,” Armstrong said. “I have no idea what we’re going to achieve here.”

“Do we get you to the politician’s box or whatever it’s called?” I straddled Bruno so he wouldn’t get trampled.

“I don’t relish the idea of letting the President know I didn’t attend his speech.” Armstrong looked toward the stage and squinted. “He’s not on now. We’ve got a native song and dance going on, and I think it’s from Venezuela, which was the third act for that stage after the President, presuming they didn’t alter the program after I left.”

I looked around again and concentrated, focusing on the inner me and my Wolverine abilities. I had to grit my teeth, but when I hit the Laser Beams From My Eyes level, I could see a variety of people moving much faster than anyone else around them. They were all dressed in the Armani Fatigues, not that this came as a shock.

“There are a tonnage of field teams here.”

“Yes, there are,” White confirmed. “But they all seem quite intent.”

And they all looked alike. Oh, sure, they varied in height, body structure, and skin tones—we had pureblooded A-Cs who could pass for every ethnic type on Earth, because Alpha Four had varying skin colors and body types just like we did. But, as I was still shocked to realize, all that beauty tended to look alike after a while, especially if there was a lot of it on display. Clearly Centaurion Division had called in field teams from every Base worldwide, because I saw A-Cs who—if they’d been standing still and in native costume other than the Armani Fatigues—anyone would have sworn were from India, China, Russia, Africa and South America.

But none of them were standing still. They were, to an agent, looking incredibly busy, intent, and serious. They left hyperspeed to break up fights, return stolen wallets, take lost children to their parents, and generally act like the biggest bunch of Boy Scouts anyone had ever seen. Citizens safe, they went back to hyperspeed, looking for the next problem.

It was impressive in the extreme, but I got an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach. It wouldn’t take much to turn the A-Cs into the world’s police force. And while that had some good benefits associated with it, there were bigger downsides, starting with how fast the “police force” would be turned into the War Division. I gave it one big international incident. Like the one everyone was expecting to happen here.

One agent set managed to stand out—because it consisted of a guy and a girl. TheӀapp guy was big, the girl was about my size. They were close enough, so I reached out and touched someone and managed to grab them both.

They stopped moving and stared at me in shock. They looked about Walter’s age, early twenties. “I’m Ambassador Katt-Martini. We may have an emergency situation. Who are you and what are you doing here?”

They looked at each other, then at me and at White. “I’m Jeremy Barone, this is my sister Jennifer. We’re policing the crowd.”

“We actually have female field agents now that James is in charge?”

Jennifer smiled. “I’m an imageer, Ambassador. My brother’s an empath. We work well together, and I’m not really good with math, science, or medicine, so I was approved for fieldwork.”

Refrained from mentioning that the Dazzler version of “not good” at these pursuits was still probably Mensa material for the rest of us. Also didn’t mention that I knew female imageers were rare, meaning Jennifer wasn’t on fieldwork only because she wasn’t good at normal Dazzler Duties. We had other things going on; I’d mention these points later.

“Okay, great. I need you two to try to find Ambassador Martini.” They stared at me. “What?”

“You’re right here,” Jeremy pointed out.

“Oh. I mean former Commander Martini. Right, I was a Commander, too. I mean the other one. My husband, Jeff.”

“Ah. Right.” Jeremy looked at his sister. They both gave off an “I’m so uncomfortable” vibe.

“What is it?”

“We were told you might, ah, drop by,” Jennifer said. “All of us, I mean, not just me and Jeremy.”

“And what were you told, and who told it to you?”

They didn’t speak. White sighed. “Children, are you aware of who I am?”

“Oh, yes, sir, Pontifex White,” Jeremy said quickly.

“Then answer the Ambassador’s question. Honestly and quickly, please.” I noted he didn’t correct them by adding “former,” which, under the circumstances, I was A-okay with.

They exchanged another glance. “I’ll do it,” Jennifer said with a sigh. “That way you won’t get in trouble.”

“And Alpha Team’s current Captains will be more than supportive,” I added. “Time, guys. It’s of the essence.”

“We were told by Commander Reader that you’d probably try to help out, and that we should advise him and send you back to the Embassy.”

“Great, I’d imagine he told you this during your prep meeting right?” They both nodded. “Super duper. Here’s the deal—things have changed since prep time, and if someone doesn’t help me find my husband and Charles Reynolds pretty much immediately, heads are going to roll in uncomfortable ways.”

White cleared his throat. “We could very well be in a state of emergency. We can’t confirm that until we can confirm where Ambassador Martini and Mister Reynolds are.”

The siblings looked at each other and nodded. “We’ll help you,” Jeremy said. “But I’m not sure how, other than being two more people looking for them. There are too many people here for me to be able to pick anyone out specifically based on their emotions.”

“And a picture won’t tell me where they are right now,” Jennifer added.

I had to remind myself that Jeff and Christopher had always been the most talented and that their Surcenthumain boosts had ensured no one was going to catch up any time soon.

Serene could find Chuckie and Jeff, if they were within fifty miles of her. Since I’d sequestered her at the Dome, which was in New Mexico, that option was out. Jeff had told me earlier he couldn’t find Chuckie emotionally because of all the interference at the Festival, so Jeremy being unable wasn’t a surprise.

Christopher might be able to tell, but pictures told him about a person, not necessarily that person’s
location. Then again, part of Christopher’s Surcenthumain Talent Extension meant he could see anyone, externally and internally, to the point of being able to assist Tito in performing brain surgeries. He also had the best range around, to put it mildly.

I sent him a text asking him to use his Heavy Duty Searching Powers to find our missing men. Got a snippy text back sharing that he was already on that case, in between policing pregnant women and keeping the Security guys feeling important, and so far had nothing, but wasn’t even close to being done with his search because he’d started at the Festival and searching through that much interference was a slow process.

It dawned on me that if someone wanted to kidnap pretty much anyone, this Festival was an awesome way to neutralize the people most likely to be able to stop said kidnapping. I had a sinking feeling I’d finally tuned to the Bad Guy Radio Channel, only I’d missed some important programming updates.

But before I could remark on how our luck was always consistent, in that it always sucked, Jeremy stiffened. “It’s not the Ambassador, but someone’s in real danger.”

“Let’s go, kids.” I grabbed White with one hand and Buchanan with the other. “You run, we’ll keep up.”

CHAPTER 52

B
UCHANAN GRABBED TITO
and White took hold of Armstrong, and then we were off at the slower version of hyperspeed. I could see Bruno flying just above us. He was having no issues keeping up, even with Bellie in his claws. He was obviously carrying her versus trying to kill her. I decided to table my emotions about this for later.

We could have gone faster, but Jeremy and Jennifer weren’t going all out, presumably because there were so damn many people here they couldn’t go to full hyperspeed without bowling everyone around over.

I’d done the daisy-chain thing a few times before, but no one else with me had. It was interesting. Buchanan and Tito adapted fairly well, but Armstrong kept րce="Times on knocking into people. White stopped, shoved Armstrong in between us, we each held one of the senator’s hands, and we were off again.

Happily, this meant we were controlling Armstrong and so kept him from slamming into other people. Unfortunately, this delay meant we’d lost the Barones.

However, Bruno hadn’t lost sight of them. He was ahead of us, but we could see him to follow him, and we did.

With Armstrong between us, it was also easier for White to lead and control the daisy chain, and we caught up to Bruno, and then the Barones, in short order, massive number of people to wade through or not.

They headed through the crowd toward an area with a lot of foliage. As we drew near, I could hear the sounds of struggle and fighting.

We stopped, and I dropped Armstrong and Buchanan’s hands. They and Tito were busy retching anyway. White and I trotted after the Barones.

A part of me was hoping we were going to discover Jeff and Chuckie here, maybe fighting for their lives or protecting someone, but here, nonetheless. Those hopes were quickly dashed—I didn’t know the people fighting in the foliage.

There was a woman about my mother’s age. She had shiny, black hair, light olive skin, and was dressed nicely in expensive-looking clothes with even more expensive-looking accessories. She didn’t look American; I put her from somewhere in the Middle East. There was a younger man, late twenties probably, who had the same coloring, but he didn’t look like her, other than clearly being her countryman.

There were also two other younger men, about the same age. One was taller with curly light brown hair and glasses. The other was average height with straight brown hair. They were both wiry and muscular, and they also looked Middle Eastern, but not from the same country the woman was from. And they, and the black-haired man, were all surrounding the woman, fighting nothing.

At least, it looked like nothing. But from the way the men were reacting, either they were all crazy, or they were fighting something they couldn’t see.

“Whatever it is, it’s moving too fast for us to see,” Jeremy said as I came up to him.

“That’s the Bahraini Ambassadress,” White said as Jeremy lunged toward the clutch of people fighting the nothing. I took a closer look at the men. The one who looked like the Ambassadress was in uniform. The other two weren’t. Based on what had been going on and their looks, I took the leap and assumed they were Israeli.

Whatever these men were fighting, it was strong enough to hit Jeremy and send him flying toward us. White managed to catch him, but they both slid back.

This wasn’t good and was probably going to get worse. Well, Jeremy and Jennifer were agents, so they probably had the gas manipulation chips in their brains. And even if they didn’t, I’d worry about it later.

I opened my purse. “Poofs assemble!” I looked up. “Bruno, my bird, drop the parrot and let’s stop whatever or whoever, right now.”

Bruno released Bellie, who flew to White’s shoulder. She was screaming. “Tino! Tino! Tino!” I decided to table Bellie’s inability to say Tito’s name correctly fۀ">Bor later. Because Bruno gave the loudest bird shriek I’d ever heard as the Poofs jumped out of my purse and went large and toothy.

“Poofies, surround those people and don’t let whatever or whoever’s attacking them get away!”

The Poofs did as requested. Bruno, meantime, was flying in a circle, and he was going faster and faster. I got the impression he was trying to catch up to and then match the speed of the invisible assailant.

During Operation Fugly I’d had to stop an A-C racing around Jeff at hyperspeed with a needle full of badness in her hand. I’d had a baseball bat to work with at that time. I didn’t have a weapon like that on hand, and I wasn’t stupid enough to use my Glock.

However, I’d shoved my sweat jacket into my purse before we’d left the Dome. I pulled it out now. I so frequently had no options other than the crazy, I just went for it naturally now.

Flipped my jacket out as I shoved in between two of the Poofs. I watched Bruno, who was going incredibly fast. But I could see him. Couldn’t see what he was following, but Bruno was a really clear bird-blur.

I needed the hyperjuice, and it wasn’t hard to rev up to rage—rage was easy to get to once I’d already hit high anxiety and stressed confusion. All it really took was to look at the expression on the face of the Ambassadress—she was terrified—and to see the three guys getting punched repeatedly. This really pissed me off, because I was damned sure she hadn’t done anything to deserve terror today, and protectors being beaten up in an unfair fight was far too close to what my guys went through every time some lunatic decided to try to go global and take over the world.

Based on the hits the dudes were taking, however, I judged that they were being attacked by something taller than me. I timed it, and the next time Bruno went past me I flung my jacket out and up, high, keeping a tight hold on both of the sleeves.

I caught something and pulled. “Toro!” If only I had a spear to shove into this particular invisible bull.

As I pulled, Bruno dived, screaming nasty things in Peregrine, and landed on whatever it was I had my jacket around, dug his impressively large, sharp claws in, and held on. Something, or rather someone, shouted in pain. Couldn’t tell if it was a person or a thing shouting, though.

We were all moving now, at the really fast hyperspeed Jeff and Christopher used these days. I should have been sick, but I was too revved, which was good. Then I realized my Lifehouse jacket was getting stretched out of shape. And that seriously pissed me off.

Whoever I had “captured” tried to pull away some more. I let his strength pull me into him and body-slammed him. It was definitely a him—my jacket was over and around his head, but he felt human-shaped. However, no human could be doing this, so I was fighting either an enhanced A-C or an android.

My body-slam staggered him. Bruno used that to press down and I did my best to help him. We ended up on the ground. “Oof!”

Human-sounding voice. Could still be one of Marling’s superandroids. One easy way to find out. I was in a good position for it, too.

I rammed my knee into his groin. He bellowed. Trees didn’t shۀd oake and leaves didn’t plummet to the ground, so this wasn’t Jeff. No one bellowed like my man. Which meant, happily, this wasn’t my man gone insane.

White, Jeremy, and Buchanan arrived, just as whoever it was flipped us over. He wasn’t trying to fight me, though. He was trying to get away. White caught one arm, and Jeremy was able to grab the other, as B
uchanan tackled our mystery dude around the waist and managed to bring him back to his knees while I rolled out of the way and scrambled to my feet. This was an improvement, but three of them were barely able to hold this guy. I’d lost my hold on my jacket, but it was still over his head.

Wanted to call Tito for help, but I figured he was doing medical on the people who’d been attacked. Besides, we didn’t know if this guy was working alone, so Tito and Jennifer were better off staying with the others.

Bruno was still attached to this guy’s shoulders, and he did the bird scream thing again, but it wasn’t directed at me. It was directed at Bellie.

She cawed and got into it, as she grabbed my jacket in her beak and slashed the guy’s chest with her claws at the same time. Then she flew to me, dropped the jacket, and alighted on my shoulder. “Bellie wants a treat!”

I was too busy being shocked about who I was looking at to be shocked by the fact that Bellie was suddenly my Best Birdie Friend.

I’d been wrong. No, I didn’t know the people being attacked. But I sure knew their attacker.

“Clarence Valentino, what an unexpected displeasure.”