Camp Alien (16 page)

“Ha ha, I consider this a challenge, you know.”

He laughed. “I'm sure you do,” he said quietly, so only I could hear. “However, with King Benny along, you're not going to be able to go onto the streets. Again. For a third time. I'll expect a full report when we're able to be alone with just our core team.” With that Jeff and Antoinette went back into the theater.

“Why does Jeff think we need King Benny's help?” Len asked quietly.

“He thinks that I won't do anything he'd consider stupid or foolhardy with King Benny along.” Clearly Jeff knew I'd already done something stupid and foolhardy and was, therefore, taking steps to ensure that didn't happen again. Took King Benny's arm and hooked mine through it. “But Leoalla isn't clear on just how sneaky Shealla can be.”

King Benny nodded. “I presume Leoalla expects you to try to leave the complex in order to protect your world?”

“Indeed he does. And you're supposedly along to stop me.”

“I would not go against what a God believes to be the best course. And I will, of course, offer my services as guard or warrior, as Shealla needs.”

“And that, my beloved King Benny, is why Jeff's chosen wisely. At least as far as I'm concerned.”

W
E WALKED UPSTAIRS
to check out where we now lived. A couple of thoughts occurred and I pulled my phone out.

“Yes, Madam First Lady?” Walter said as he answered.

“Oh my God, Walt, we're losing that immediately. It's Kitty. All the time. Period. I'll give you that when we need to impress someone the full title is all that it should be. But otherwise? You call me Kitty or I replace you with an android.”

“But titles matter.” This was true, at least for Walter. Titles mattered a lot to Walter. And I liked Walter a lot. And he'd almost whined that statement, and Walter wasn't a whiner. And I'd let him use titles for me when I was the Ambassador.

“Fine. But can we choose something that doesn't make me feel uncomfortable?”

“I doubt it, because you are the First Lady, and I know you're uncomfortable with the job and the title.”

Heaved a sigh. “Good point. I really don't like the ‘madam.'”

“How about Chief First Lady?”

Considered my options. They seemed remarkably few. “It'll do.”

“Thank you. So, Chief First Lady, what can I do for you?”

“Can you tell me where Len and Kyle and other key personnel are sleeping now?”

“All Embassy personnel who are now White House personnel will have rooms on the third floor of the White House residence. Those rooms haven't been used for staff
for many years, but not to worry—the rooms have been refurbished and refitted and their things have been moved in, just as yours have.”

“Wow. Efficiency is our watchword, isn't it?”

“Yes. I'd have had this done last week but we all felt that it was wrong to rush out the Former First Lady.”

“True enough. We've rushed her right out, now.”

“No. We've moved the new Secretary of State into her new apartment right next to the new Secretary of Transportation.”

“Walt, can you please ask William to put Field agent teams onto the Cairo and make sure that our new Secretaries aren't harmed?”

“Already done, Chief First Lady. We also have security on every other newly appointed person and their immediate families. The Chief of Staff is advising us as the President makes his assignments. He also advised that you're also making appointments and that protection will be assigned to your new hires as well.”

“I hire so well. Thanks, Walt. Can you please thank Raj when next you two speak and also let Pierre know that I'm going to be coming over to the Embassy in a little bit?”

“Yes, and we have gates in every residence bathroom, as well as in other areas of the complex.”

“Super-duper, glad we're keeping to our theme of escape via the toilet.”

“We do our best. Please note that there are no gates in any washroom that's too old, mostly due to space issues and concerns that the gates could harm anything historic. There are also none in any public bathrooms, as a precaution.”

“Someone needs to give me a map. Of everything, really.”

“Noted. I'll assign a team. We also have all gate activity in the White House complex being monitored twenty-four-seven by my team and by Embassy Security as well.”

“Security is Job One, got it. And well done.”

Walter and I hung up as we reached the Master Bedroom. One of the interesting things about the White House was that you were allowed to change things around in the living areas. As long as they weren't considered part of the museum or a historical portion or whatever, you could make changes.

And changes had been made.

The last time I'd been in here—near the end of Operation Epidemic, less than two weeks ago—the suite had had five rooms, one of which had been the huge dressing room and two of which were bathrooms. There had also been a huge bedroom suite and a living room.

The bathrooms and the dressing room were the same. But the bedroom and living room were altered.

A portion of the master bedroom had been turned into a nursery, similar to the nursery setup in the Embassy. Chose to assume that Algar expected Charlie with us for a few months longer, as opposed to being given a “have more babies” hint.

A part of the living room, on the other hand, had been converted into an isolation chamber. And, as with the nursery, it copied what we'd had in the Embassy. In fact, it was a duplicate, with a king bed and a twin bed, complete with all the necessary medical equipment, and it was all in white. The headboard for the king bed was very familiar.

Examined this carefully but chose not to say anything.

The rooms had been redecorated, too. Most of the White House was very Old World, or at least as Old World as a young country like ours could manage. But everything in the Master Suite was now very reminiscent of what Jeff had grown up in. We were in Martini Manor D.C.

Of course, the Martini family's complex in Florida was still more on the sleek and high-class hotel setup. But these rooms were more like theirs than the rooms at the Embassy, and definitely snazzier than standard A-C housing. While the general setup of the Master Suite was like our much beloved Human Lair back at Dulce, the interior was all Top Dawg A-C.

Wondered for a moment if Lucinda and Alfred had had anything to do with this. But it was unlikely that Algar was taking decorating tips from Jeff's parents. More like he'd created what they'd wanted years ago, and was just duplicating the theme. Intentionally, I was sure.

“The Operations Team is amazing,” Kyle said, as we looked at everything.

“They are,” I agreed. I considered the fact that Algar had tens of thousands of people convinced that there were a huge number of A-Cs who worked in Operations to be far
more amazing than the fact that he could redo the White House in a matter of minutes. Walls were one thing. Fooling all of the people all of the time was much harder.

“This is so different from how we live on Beta Eight,” King Benny said, sounding awed.

“Every world is different. We still have people living similarly to how yours do, they're just not around here.”

We finished staring at where I was going to be living for the next couple of years and went searching for what room had been assigned to Jamie. Found the room assigned to Charlie first, though, across the hall and down a little. It was called the West Bedroom, which made no sense since it was in the middle. But I'd stopped arguing with how the names were assigned here days ago. Antoinette had shared that the West and East bedrooms were to the west and east of the Yellow Oval Room, which they were across the hall from, as if this explained everything. I'd quickly decided that the White House Staff were their own special kind of crazy and made the decision to humor them.

At least, I assumed this room was for Charlie, since it was decorated as a combination of Junior Science Wizard and Future Sports Star. In Bizarro World, the room that Charlie and Max—“my” sons—shared had been decorated very much like this.

Of course, the Poof Condo, dog beds, and Peregrine hammocks in here indicated one of my children was going to be living in this room. And since said room was not all pink, it clearly wasn't Jamie's.

“I guess the Operations Team expects you and Jeff to get busy,” Len said.

“Um, yeah.”

We wandered out and found that Jamie was in the East Bedroom, which was sort of connected to the West one by a small hallway and a ginormous closet. We could confirm that this was Jamie's room because it was a fabulous Shrine to Pink and loaded with more Poof Condos, dog beds, and Peregrine hammocks than Charlie's room.

“Think she'll ever outgrow her love of pink?” Kyle asked.

“One can dream. But, you know, as long as it's her choice, whatever color she wants.” I just hoped she wasn't going to be disappointed—this room was actually smaller than the room she'd had at the Embassy.

“See?” Len said encouragingly. “You're a great mother.”

“If you're one with the Operations Team's suggestion that Jeff and I need to grow our family, I don't want to hear about it right now. I'm still not managing the two I have all that well—the idea of three is almost terrifying.”

We wandered out and down the hall. The family dining room and kitchen were across from the Master Suite, the kids' rooms were across from that oval room, and the Treaty Room and Lincoln Bedroom were also on the Master Suite side.

All these other rooms looked like the rest of the White House—old and expensive. It didn't seem like the Operations Team had touched them other than to put in gates in their bathrooms, as confirmed by the boys and my ability to see the small red dab of paint on the bottom of every wall that indicated a gate was there.

Kyle was explaining the red dots and the gates to King Benny when we headed across the hall again. The Queen's Bedroom was across from the Lincoln, and we peeked into it. To find that it was decorated just like the other bedrooms—in Early American Martini Manor.

“Who's supposed to be in here?” Kyle asked, interrupting himself from his own explanation.

“I have no idea. Maybe my parents?”

“Doesn't look like it's set up for them,” Len said. “I mean, I thought this room was supposed to be for your overnight guests if the Lincoln Bedroom was taken. So I can see them staying here in that case, but this looks set up for someone to live here permanently.”

King Benny sniffed. As in sniffed like an animal would. “Whoever it is, I believe their things indicate a female.”

Was about to comment on the mystery and King Benny's sense of smell when my phone rang. Happily, it wasn't an anonymous number. “Hey, Lizzie, what's up?”

“Kitty? All my stuff is gone!” Lizzie sounded frantic. “I went to my room to get something and nothing's there. Is something wrong? Is my dad okay? Are you guys kicking me out?”

I hadn't known her long, but I'd never heard Lizzie this panicked, and she'd been trained by Assassination International. Then again, if I'd gone to my room and discovered everything missing, I'd be freaked out, too.

Looked around again. There was something on the bed that seemed personal. “Ah, Lizzie? Do you happen to own a stuffed animal that looks very much like a skunk?”

“It is a skunk. My dad got that for me so I'd have something to hold when . . .”

“When you had nightmares?” I asked gently.

“Yeah. How did you know? I don't remember showing it to you.”

“You didn't. But, I'm looking at it right now.”

“How?”

“How? With my eyes. Why is the better question. And the answer is that, apparently, the Operations Team has decided you're supposed to live in the White House.”

W
E QUICKLY DECIDED
that us getting to the Embassy was now Job One. Lizzie and I got off the phone, and we decided to test out the gate in her about-to-be new bathroom.

Gates looked like what we all walked through at the airport security check, but they had the ability to send you thousands of miles in seconds. The main gate hub was the Crash Site Dome, where the Ancients' ship had crash-landed. I hadn't had time to ask Wruck what he thought about this, but basically, the half-life of the Ancients' power source was impressive and kept the Dome powered and cloaked.

There were gates in every airport worldwide, even the tiniest ones. There were gates now in pretty much every train station and bus station, according to Christopher, because of me and Jeff. But whatever. More gates meant more mobility, right?

All the gates were programmable, but they all reset to send whoever walked through them to the Dome as a safety measure. However, the ones in the White House all reset to the Embassy, under the probably quite accurate idea that most of us would want to go to the Embassy in case of trouble, or just to visit.

So, we didn't have to do anything. We just walked through, as if we were going to walk through the wall, only we landed in the Embassy's basement, not smashing our faces. Len went first with Bruno, then King Benny, then me, with Kyle bringing up the rear. I was in between the boys, some for protection but mostly because the gates had made
me nauseous from Day One with Centaurion, and I hated going through, especially if Jeff wasn't around to carry me.

However, I had a semihysterical teenager to get to, so I bit the bullet and walked through like a big girl. The journey was so short that my stomach only had a moment to consider making a fuss before it was over.

We headed upstairs to the kitchen to find Lizzie with Pierre. And a plate of Lucinda's brownies. Pierre had gone with the age-old Delicious Foodstuffs To Calm The Nerves Ploy. Proving again that my view of him as the most competent man in the world was dead-on.

King Benny, like the rest of the Planetary Council, was sleeping at the Embassy, and neither Lizzie nor Pierre had an issue with a giant walking otter. Lizzie actually seemed relieved to see him and gave him a big hug, which he returned. Of course, he was like a giant stuffed animal, in that sense, so score another one for us bringing over someone comforting.

The boys and I each grabbed a brownie while Pierre ordered up some pickled mackerel from the Elves and made King Benny's culinary day.

As Pierre explained the “ask for it when the door is closed, then open the door and what you want is there” magic of how the Elves worked to King Benny, who apparently hadn't ever asked before, I hugged Lizzie. “It'll be fine.” Kept one arm around her shoulders while I scarfed my brownie. Oh, sure, Chef's food had been awesome. But Lucinda's brownies were the best on, at least, two planets. And I'd been active and had to think a lot since I'd last eaten. Snagged another brownie.

“Why does the Operations Team want me to leave the Embassy?” Lizzie asked, sounding slightly better than when we'd been on the phone.

“I have no idea. But your stuff is there. You got the biggest room, too. Well, for the kids.”

Pierre got glasses of milk for all of us while we all ate more brownies. “I'm wondering, Kitty darling, if the assumption isn't that our Lizzie will function as your au pair. Or possibly even your ward.”

“Like Robin was Batman's ward?”

“Exactly.”

“But my dad is here,” Lizzie said. “And he's working in the Embassy. He's not planning on leaving.”

“No, he's not. But his job is going to mean that he's busy . . .” Considered things. Specifically, who was likely to have made this decision. And I sincerely doubted said individual was either human or A-C. “You know, I think it's going to be fine. I'm going to go up and see Jamie and Charlie. I think we'll all go back together, okay? You can get settled and talk to your dad when he's back.”

“Back from what?”

“Yet another mission.” Felt that I was right, but wanted to be sure. And there was really only one way to do that. Besides, I wanted to verify some other things, too. “Len, Kyle, King Benny, you guys stay here with Lizzie. I'll be back soonish and I'll call if I need help with the kids.”

With that, I zipped off to the top floor. Where Jeff and I had lived since we'd been moved to D.C. Until yesterday.

Opened the door carefully, but no one was there. Apparently Doreen and Irving hadn't been moved in here yet.

Went into the master bedroom and checked on the beds in the isolation room—the headboard for the king bed in particular. It was definitely different than it had been, just slightly, but this headboard was vitally important, and I'd paid a lot of attention to it once I'd discovered that fact.

Headed into the closet. The hamper was there, though nothing else was. Sat down and looked at it. “I thought the stationary cube was for the Embassy.”

The Z'porrah had littered our world with power cubes—things that looked like bright white and golden Rubik's Cubes. However, they allowed you to move anywhere, anyhow, as long as you could see your location in your mind and had the cube set up properly.

The Poofs had confiscated all but two of the power cubes during Operation Destruction. Cliff had had one of the power cubes—presumably the one LaRue had brought with her from her planet—and we'd gotten that one from him, finally, at the end of Operation Epidemic. But there had been another one, one had been hidden in plain sight—in the headboard of the bed in the Embassy's isolation room. A headboard no one had paid attention to for a long time.

Until I'd gotten the Poofs and Peregrines to admit to where this last cube was. Then I'd used it, along with Gladys, on a commando mission. She'd died on that mission.

I blinked back tears and, as I did, a rakishly handsome dwarf with unnaturally bright green eyes appeared, sitting cross-legged on the hamper. Algar smiled at me. “No. It's for you.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “You use it best. And let's not kid ourselves—you're going to remain active, wife of the most powerful man in the world or not. As today's events have amply shown.”

“That power's open to debate, but I'll let it slide. And, thanks, I think, for moving the headboard into my room. So, um, will you be handling the cleaning at the White House?”

“Not so much, no. It would . . . disrupt the natural functioning there. But, to reassure you, yes, you can talk to me in your closet, just like you did last week.”

“I didn't know for sure if you were there.”

“But you picked up the penny.”

“For good luck. And thank you for that luck. Why do you want Lizzie at the White House? Is something going to happen to Siler?”

“I like her. She's a lot like you. Only her parents weren't good.”

“Yes, I kind of figured, since they were willing to kill her and all that. You like a lot of people, as far as I can tell. But you're not trying to have them all live with me.”

“Her adoptive father brought her to
you
for safety. Not to the Embassy, but to you.”

“He brought her to the Embassy because it's the most secure building around.”

“Not anymore. The White House complex can now be said to be as secure.”

“Shields have been installed?”

“They have indeed.”

“Okay, that's great, but Siler didn't bring Lizzie to me forever. He brought her because he was on a mission and she needed to be somewhere safe. And before you say it, yeah, I get it. He's on a mission right now, and she's a teenager. Someone needs to be keeping an eye on her and she also needs to go to school. Denise is great, but she's got a
room full of little kids to be taking care of, and Lizzie doesn't strike me as wanting to go into teaching as her life's work.”

“Exactly.”

“But shouldn't she, I don't know, sleep in the same place as her father?”

“Yes, if her father was home every night. But he won't be, even though he'll be working at the Embassy. He's one of your best operatives—you won't be able to sideline him.”

“He's not about to die or something, is he?” Wasn't sure if I could handle it if Algar said yes.

“There is no fate, so could he die right now? Yes. Could he live for decades more? Yes. The future's always changing, and I've told you that if you want to discuss time, you need to talk to Charles.”

“And then you snapped your fingers and disappeared. Fine, I'll let that drop. Is our going out into the greater cosmos going to cause problems for you?”

“Not any more problems than you all normally create. I'm not the one who was programmed not to allow that.”

“Alexander took those restraints off of ACE.”

“He did, but programming is hard to overcome.”

“I'll have a chat with ACE.”

“If you like.”

“Using my own free will and all that.”

“Good. Something else managed a bit of free will today.”

“You mean the Kitty-Bot, don't you?”

“I do.”

“Do you mean the Janelle Gardiner Fem-Bot as well?”

“I don't.”

“So those are hints, but I'm not feeling sharp enough to catch it all. For all I know, Villanova and Evan are also using their free will.”

“They are.”

“Super. So are all the Dealers of Death.” Algar nodded. “So, any chance you can do me a solid and tell me if Drax is trustworthy?”

“That's what you want to waste a favor on?” Algar actually seemed mildly shocked.

“I'd really rather waste it by asking you what all's going on, how many different actions are in active motion against us right now, if all the actions are being run by Cliff
Goodman, where my flyboys, Camilla, and the princesses are and if they're okay or not and what I need to do to rescue them, and what to do to get the White House staff to not hate me, but I'll settle for what I can get.”

“Many things are going on, many actions are in motion, though you won't know about most of them for a long time, you've again harmed your biggest enemy far more than you know and, because of that, other enemies are striking while he's weak and you're focused incorrectly, I can't help you with rescues other than to tell you that, as always, time is of the essence, and just be you, you charm most people even though you don't realize it.”

“Wow. That was . . . helpful. Sort of.” Considered what he'd said that was key. “You said I was focused incorrectly. So, what should I be focused on?”

“Camping.” And with that, Algar snapped his fingers and disappeared.