Touched by an Alien (4 page)

“They’re looking for a love connection?” I was back to hoping I’d wake up soon.

“In a way,” Martini said with a shrug. “They want to live, they have to live with the host, why not have it be someone they like?”

“If they like all that, why do they turn their hosts into these . . . horrible things?”

“They aren’t horrible things to
them
,” Gower answered.

I thought about it again. “They don’t belong here, so what they adapt their hosts to don’t belong here, either. On the right world, they’d be a benefit. But on the wrong ones, they’re a plague.”

“Yes,” White said. “But from what the aliens’ books told us, the right world for these parasites died when its sun went supernova. Instead of destroying the parasites, it sent them into the far reaches of space, searching for hosts so they could fully live again.”

“It would be sad if they weren’t turning humans into horrifying, murderous creatures.” I shook myself. “But they are. So, what’s in the rest of the boxes? More of them?”

“Yep,” Martini said. “Your little friend’ll be here soon. Just have to preserve, box, and ship him on over.”

“In my car?”

“Hardly. But don’t worry, I’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

“I feel so lucky. Why save them all, especially if they’re not leading you to the scarier ones?” I directed this question to White.

“We need the proof. We also have scientists who do tests on the bodies, to see if we can spot similarities so we can predict the people more likely to be potential hosts.”

“You do all this here?” I looked around. “I don’t buy that for a minute.”

“No,” White said with a chuckle. “This is just the first stop.”

Something wasn’t adding up right, many things, really, but I decided not to argue or point out my concerns yet. “Show me more of them.”

As we went around the room on my personal horror tour, more agents arrived, two of whom were carting in a new box. Extra large. One of the agents was the guy who’d taken my car keys. The other with him was great looking, just like the rest of them.

It was hot and I was sweating, yet none of the bodies in the containers were decomposed or even smelly. I put my hand inside some of the boxes, with White’s permission. Just as hot in there.

A few more agents came in and out, some carting boxes with dead superbeings, some just milling about. All of them were male, and while there were standard variations in body types, facial structures, coloration and the like, all of them would be classified as handsome by the majority of the population. Lots of hunky agents were here—and none of them other than the set with me had come through the only door. I wasn’t sure how they’d gotten in, but however it was, it wasn’t via normal means.

There was nothing else in this warehouse, but I was outnumbered by a lot. Not that I thought I’d have a chance against White without help, let alone any of the others.

I leaned up against the large box that held my personal superbeing, crossed my arms, and gave it my best shot at not sounding scared and freaked out. “What’s really going on?”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?”
White asked in a very calm tone. But I wasn’t looking at him. I was looking at Martini and Gower, and both of them looked guilty.

“I mean that some things don’t add up.” Martini wasn’t looking at me, and I was pretty sure it was because he was trying not to give anything away.

“Like what?” White asked pleasantly.

“Like all of you, for starters.” I looked around. “You’re all too good-looking. I’ll bet when I meet some scientists, they’ll all be hunks, too. While it’s a great fantasy, there’s no way this many great-looking men would all be working in one agency, unless it’s a modeling agency.”

“That’s all? You’re worried about our looks?” White seemed amused.

“No, it’s just the start. This isn’t a headquarters, so you brought me here to show me the bodies. I guess it makes sense as an initiation ritual. But it’s too damn hot in here. On Earth we keep dead things we want to preserve very cold, not very hot. Everything in here is roasting, me included, but I’m pretty much the only one breaking a sweat. Everyone else and everything in these boxes is just fine. That’s not normal, for this world at least.”

“What else?” White still seemed calm and unconcerned. Of course, he had backup and I didn’t.

“You all seem to move too fast. You appear out of nowhere, no one tries to stop you, the cops do what you tell them without argument. That’s not normal, either. And you claimed there was nothing of interest in an alien spaceship other than some manuals. Sorry, but that doesn’t ring true no matter what. The metal, the components, everything that made the thing fly, all of that would be of huge scientific importance. NASA would have an interest, even if no other government agency did. Aliens that are more like humans than not would be hugely interesting, just as interesting as if they were nothing like us. Every single thing in that spaceship, starting with its mere existence, would be fascinating to anyone with at least a normal IQ.”

“What do you think this all means?” White asked me. He seemed interested in my answer but not worried.

“You come from Planet Hunk, sent to Earth to protect and serve. And make the ladies happy.”

Martini started to laugh, which was sort of a relief. He finally looked at me again, and I was interested to see that his expression hadn’t changed much from what I was getting used to. He looked confident and interested and intelligent, but like White, he didn’t look worried.

Gower shook his head. “You gotta give it to her, boss. She’s a smart one.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” White said.

“Well, gee, I have the time.”

White shook his head. “Not here.”

“No,
right
here. I’m tired of the game, whatever it is. You tell me what’s going on or you take me home and leave me the hell alone for the rest of my life. And that would include you,” I directed to Martini. He just grinned.

“No. It’s easier to explain if you can see it,” White countered.

“See what?”

“The crash site. Our Science Center in Dulce, New Mexico. And Home Base.”

“The UFO Tour,” Martini added cheerfully. “There are a lot of folks who’d pay good money for this.”

“All of them considered crackpots.” One of them being one of my best friends, too, but that wasn’t important right now. “Of course, since they’re apparently right, I guess we should call them intuitive government whistle-blowers.”

White shrugged. “There are reasons to lie. I’m sure you can guess most of them. But that’s not the point. Yes, we brought you here as a test. You needed to see that there were more of them, many more, than just the one you’d experienced yourself.”

“What else?” I asked. “I mean, there has to be more to why you brought me here, first, than just to give me a private tour of the Museum of the Grotesque.”

“I wanted to see you sweat,” Martini said. “I think it’s sexy. You do it really well, too.”

“You could have done that back home and saved a fortune in jet fuel.”

“It’s worth the cost. Not every day we recruit a hottie from Hot Town.” Martini was grinning as though he thought this was the first time someone had tried that one on me. Every female in Pueblo Caliente had heard a variation on that line by the time she was twelve.

Gower rolled his eyes. “This may explain why we don’t have a lot of female operatives.”

“Because of Mr. Horndog here?” It was a toss-up between that or Cliché Man, and I went for the more obvious trait.

“I’m not a horndog,” Martini protested. “I just like you. The rest of them, pah, they’re nothing.”

“Not buying it. Not buying any of it.” I looked around again. There were more men in here now, all of them clearly agents like Martini, White, and Gower. All of them were watching me and only me.

A loud ringing started, which caused me and several of the men to jump. I recovered first and dug my cell phone out of my purse.

“Don’t answer that,” Martini told me.

“I thought you took that away from her on the plane,” I heard White say to Martini.

“I would have, but she hid it back in her bag on the plane,” Martini replied. “Finding her keys was the only easy thing about that purse. You feel free to search through it for anything. Maybe the contents only respond to their owner or something, but it’s a nightmare in there.”

“She’s a woman,” Gower chimed in.

I checked who was calling and flipped the phone open. “Hi, Dad,” I said as loudly as possible.

“Jeez, Kitty, stop screaming. Your mother is freaking out and wanted me to call.”

“What’s wrong with Mom?”

“She says she saw you tackle a terrorist at our courthouse on the news, while she was in the airport waiting for her plane.”

“Dad? Can you hold on a second, please?” I covered the mouthpiece and looked over at White. “Just when was that ‘we’ll keep you out of the papers’ thing supposed to happen?” As I asked, it dawned on me that Amy was in France, Sheila lived on the East Coast, and Chuckie was most likely in Australia, which meant my little escapade had made not only the Pueblo Caliente news, but the news of the world.

“Why?” he asked, looking worried.

“Because I wasn’t too upset by my boss, half of my coworkers, my best male friend, some of my sorority sisters, my two best girlfriends, the guy at Blockbuster, and my landlord checking in on me earlier, but apparently my mother, who is on a business trip in New York, saw her only child tackle a terrorist on the six o’clock news, and she’s a little freaked.”

White looked at the man I recognized as the one who’d been the recipient of my car keys. “What the hell happened, Christopher?”

Christopher shrugged. “I keep telling you, handheld electronics make our jobs a lot harder. Someone got the entire thing on their video cell phone and streamed it on the Net. We were able to alter the superbeing to look like he was carrying a load of explosives and semiautomatic weapons. No time for anything else, including editing out the princess here.”

I decided to hate him. “Just where is my car?”

Christopher gave me a lazy grin. “It’s parked somewhere safe. But not at your apartment. I fed your fish, though.”

“Aren’t you Mr. Thoughtful.”

“Better than being the Horndog.”

White interrupted this exchange of wit. “So the entire world has seen her, not just the local news?”

Christopher shrugged. “Sounds like it.”

I went back to the phone. “Dad, I’m with Homeland Security. Everything’s okay. I used the pen you gave me to stop the lunatic. I didn’t get hurt, and I’m not in trouble, just taking care of debriefs and that sort of stuff.”

“So, you did tackle a terrorist?” I could hear pride and fear warring for dominance. “I didn’t see it, I’ve been with my grad students all day, prepping for finals and summer session.” In other words, a typical day in early May for my dad. At least one of us had the comfort of a routine going on.

“I didn’t know he was a terrorist, Dad. I just sort of . . . reacted. One of those once-in-a-lifetime hero things. Nothing to worry about.”

“Right.” He sighed. “Well, your mother will be relieved to know you’re okay, and probably more thrilled about this than I am. You sure the Homeland Security people aren’t going to ship you off to Guantánamo Bay?”

“Dad, would they have let me keep my cell if they were doing that?” Of course, the reality was they just hadn’t found it or snatched it away from me, but for some reason, I felt that I had to protect them. White, for one, was looking particularly grateful.

“I suppose. I’ll call you every couple of hours, just in case. If you don’t answer, I’m calling the police. Where are you, now? Still in town?”

“Not exactly.” I thought like mad. “They took me to Vegas. Apparently there’s some big Homeland Security facility there.”

“In Vegas?” he asked, clearly incredulous. “We have a Federal building downtown and they took you to Sin City?”

“Perfect cover. Who would suspect?” I was amazed at how easily making this crap up was coming to me. Martini looked particularly impressed, and even Christopher seemed to be sneering at me a little less.

“Makes sense. Did they give you the pen back?”

“Yes, Dad. They took all the samples they needed, cleaned it, and it’s back in my possession.” That was my father in a nutshell—do you still have the expensive gift I got you? Not that he was materialistic, it’s just that spending large sums made him nervous, so it was a real occasion when he did.

“Good. Okay, check your watch, let’s make sure we’re on the same time.”

“Dad, for God’s sake.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll set the alarm so I’ll wake up in the night, too.”

This was going to be hell, but then again, how did I know they weren’t going to do something to me? “Okay, Dad. But if, like at four in the morning, I tell you to not call again, you’ll understand, right?”