Universal Alien (29 page)

T
HE MUSIC WAS COMING
from the door to our left when we exited, and I opened the door and dragged Amadhia after me. It was a recording studio, and the receptionist tried to stop us. Chose to pretend I didn't speak or understand French.

The music was happening upstairs, so I ignored her and dragged Amadhia after me. “International superstar,” I shouted over my shoulder as we zipped past.

“Look, I can't sing these lyrics,” a man said from where we were heading. “At least, not all of them. I'm a drummer first, man, and a guitarist, not a lead singer.”

“Come on, Aaron,” a different man said. “Work with me.”

“I'm trying to. I need a female singer and everyone you've brought to audition is horrible. I need a hit, this song will be a hit, but not if I don't have the right person to harmonize with.”

“I've got who you need,” I said as we rounded the corner. It wasn't a large studio, and I didn't recognize anyone in it, but most of them looked American. “She can sing anything. Voice like an angel. And all that.”

Everyone in the room gaped at me, Amadhia included. There were several people in the room, many with musical instruments, but the one who had to be Aaron was around my age and bearded, sitting in the recording booth holding a guitar.

The receptionist ran up, apologizing in French. Charles, Richard, and Malcolm were right behind her. Assumed Martini was still handling our purchases.

“This is her manager.” I pointed to Charles. He managed James' career, after all. At least in my world. And spies or not, James had a fantastic career. “Her name is Amadhia.” Turned to her. “I know you think you're Emily,” I said in a low voice, “but if you want magic, be Amadhia and sing something, anything.”

She cleared her throat and sang U2's “All I Want Is You.” After a few shocked moments of silence, there were appreciative nods. Then the musicians in the room started playing along with her, Aaron included. By halfway through, Aaron had started singing along with her, harmonizing beautifully. By the time she was done she and Aaron were doing call and response with each other. And when they finished, everyone applauded.

Amadhia flushed but she bowed. “You're hired,” Aaron said. “I want her, and only her.”

Charles handed him a business card. “Send contracts here.” He pulled Amadhia aside and gave her a card as well. “Sign nothing, agree to nothing. Feel free to sing, but don't give them a contract for anything.”

She nodded. “I won't.” She looked around. “Is this real?”

“God, I hope so,” Aaron said. “Because we're going to number one if I have you on the record, Amadhia.”

She flung her arms around me. “You have a friend for life,” she whispered to me. “Wherever you are and I am, I'll be there for you.”

Several men in Armani suits appeared. Charles spoke to them, then turned back to the rest of the room. “They'll be here to make sure none of you try to take advantage of our singer.”

“We don't cross the Mob,” an older man who'd been the one telling Aaron to work with him said. “Especially not when they bring us recording gold.”

“We're not the Mob,” I whispered to Amadhia.

She laughed. “I know,” she whispered back. “You're something much better and much more amazing.”

Aaron dragged Amadhia into the recording booth, excitedly talking about what songs he wanted her to sing solo, which one he was doing solo, and which ones they were going to do as duets.

“Good job,” Martini said quietly from behind me, as he moved me out of the studio. “You just like saving people, don't you?” He took my hand and led me downstairs.

I looked up at him. “It's usually worth it.”

He nodded. “I've had agents take the purchases so we don't have to worry about them. We need to head back, too, before someone realizes who just brokered this particular musical deal.”

Heard footsteps on the stairs behind us, and turned to see Aaron there. “I have no idea what you two are doing here, but thank you. For what it's worth, I already was, but from now on I'll always
be
pro-alien.”

“We'd appreciate your not mentioning who we are,” I told him. “We're not exactly supposed to be here.” Took the plunge. “But she's my friend and I just want her to have her chance.”

He grinned. “No one would believe it if I told them and I'm sure your people will deny it. But from one very grateful registered voter, thanks for looking out for the little guys, and gals. We'll send the first press recording to you, if your offices will accept it.”

“They will,” Martini said. He handed Aaron a card. “Send it there.”

“Front row tickets and backstage passes for our tour, promise.” Aaron said as he bounded back upstairs. “Hey, I want to do ‘Uncertain' with her. It's gonna be huge!”

Martini took my hand and we headed all the way downstairs. “Should we get the others?”

“Uncle Richard and Buchanan will stay with Chuck so he has backup. We're heading to the Metro. There's a gate there.” He looked a little wistful. “It's one of our favorite places.”

“To have sex, you mean.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I do. Not that I'm taking you there for that. I just want your little musical matchmaking experiment to work out. And I think she needs Chuck watching over what's going on right now.”

“And it's distracting him, in a good way, isn't it?”

Martini nodded. “Whether you want to call her Emily or Amadhia, she needs someone ensuring they don't use her and rob her blind. And Chuck knows business.”

“He does.” Felt a slight pang of jealousy, but shoved it aside. “Let's get home. Jamie's going to be waking up soon and I want to be sure we're there. Oh, and I want to make a stop along the way.”

“Why?”

Shrugged. “I usually get the kids some little thing from every trip. I realize this isn't an official trip, but still, why break the pattern?”

Martini squeezed my hand. “You're a great mother.”

“Let's see if Jamie agrees with that, shall we?”

The run to the Metro was interesting. I was getting better at seeing while we were racing along at hyperspeed. It was easier because I wasn't trying to find anything, just look at everything around us.

We went to the Gare du Nord station. Martini had us go to regular human speed out of sight of anyone, near a gift shop. I picked out something for Jamie, we paid cash—somehow Martini had euros—and then we raced off to the bathroom. The men's bathroom.

“Why are we here?” I hissed to him as we waited for the place to sort of empty out. We'd already dashed in and out several times—apparently there was one special stall and it was in use.

“Gates are in bathrooms. It helps us blend in and arrive and leave without a lot of notice.”

“But I'm a girl, that's the men's room, and you all said the gates were in airports.”

“They are. Every airport. But we have them elsewhere, and major train stations and bus stations and so forth are logical locations. We have gates everywhere it makes sense, honestly, which is more places than you'd imagine.”

“The maintenance costs must be astronomical.”

“Our Operations Team is exceptional. Hang on.” We dashed in again.

We were now the only ones in the bathroom, other than whoever was in the one stall we needed. I bent down to look at the feet of who was stalling, and to make sure there really was someone in there, and straightened right up again. Tugged at Martini's hand, and he took the hint and ran us out of there.

“What is it?” he asked me as we reached our little hidey-hole.

“Get us out of here and call for a floater gate or take us to the airport. In fact, I choose airport. Now. Don't wait. But call Richard and have him and the others stay where they are.”

Martini could talk on his phone while we were running, and he did so. “Uncle Richard wants to know why. So does Chuck. So do I.”

“There was a dead body in the stall. With blood pooling. I think someone knows we're here and is trying to frame us for murder.”

C
OX JUMPED AND STARED
at me. “What? How do you know my name?”

“In my world, your best friends told me they called you Bill.”

“What friends would those be?”

“Jerry Tucker, Chip Walker, Matt Hughes, Joe Billings, and Randy Muir.”

Cox went pale. “They're dead. Been dead for—”

“Years, yeah as I discovered yesterday.”

“How could that be if they were supposedly your friends?”

“Remember that long story? It's kind of short. There isn't one universe, there are a multitude of them. In the one I'm from, aliens are on Earth and they're superpowered but basically pacifistic, so they're good guys. In fact, I'm married to one, and got some of the powers due to giving birth. But that's not important now.”

“I can take you to a hospital, ma'am,” he said earnestly.

“That's what I loved about you. In the short time I knew you, I mean. You always called me ma'am. Everyone calls me Kitty, by the way and again. But it's okay that you call me ma'am, though you can use Kitty whenever you relax.”

“We haven't met, ma'am.”

“Not in person, no. I know you from a picture Jerry gave me of the six of you, when you were all at Top Gun together. It's in my other world, like everything else. Like all of them. They're all alive in my universe.”

“Well, that's good,” he said in the tone used when dealing with a scary crazy street person.

Decided there were easier ways. “Hang on.” Stood up and picked him up. With one hand. But nicely.

“Whoa! What the hell? Put me down!” I did. “Are you some kind of bodybuilder?”

Grabbed his hand. “Nope.” Took off.

Ran us all over the mall, in and around every museum and monument, and stopped in front of the Jefferson Memorial. In about thirty seconds.

Cox fell to his knees and barfed. Stripes sniffed as if to suggest that Cox was an amateur. Had to admit, Stripes had it goin' on in terms of handling hyperspeed.

“During an alien invasion, Matt and Chip got shot down over this water,” I said conversationally. “I saved them. Well, me and our team doctor, Tito. In my world, aliens are here and most of them are good guys and help us. Some of them aren't and of those that aren't, some of them are monsters like only Ray Harryhausen could have come up with. During the operation when I got involved with the gang from Alpha Centauri, the original fugly of everyone's nightmares, nicknamed Mephistopheles, was leading a major offensive in the middle of the New Mexican desert. We called in for help.”

“So?” Cox said, as he stopped barfing and got to his feet.

“So, among those who came to help us were six Top Gun Navy pilots. They were amazing. But . . . sometimes the monster wins the round.”

Cox stared at me. “What happened?” he asked finally.

“Mephistopheles smashed your jet into the ground. You died instantly.” Took a deep breath. “So while we spoke via the radio and you treated me as your superior officer, I never got to meet you in person. You were my first.”

“First?”

“The first casualty under my command. And you never forget your first, and I've never forgotten you. I didn't get to know you, but I did get to avenge you. I killed Mephistopheles.”

“You saying I owe you?”

Shook my head. “Different universe.” I took his hand and ran us back to the Lincoln Memorial—sure, we ran across the water, but if he was going to have to barf again, why not have a cool experience prior?

Reached Lincoln and sat on the top step while Cox retched. “So, I get it, you're an alien,” he said as he recovered.

“No. Pay attention. I'm a human, who's—”

“Right, right. Married an alien, the kid did this to you. Why are you here?”

Oh well, no time like the present. “We have a Sith Lord active on our world. I was switched with the ‘me' in this universe because the Sith Lord is also in this world and he's after ‘my' husband in this world. I need to stop him here. And then get home and stop him there. But I'm here, and I think I'm here for more than just one save. I think I'm supposed to do what I've been doing since I discovered aliens were real and really on the planet.”

He sat next to me. “You want to take the Sith Lord down and out.”

“Right. We call him the Mastermind. He's not really a Sith. He's a human, actually. But it makes the explanation a little easier.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head. “You've got the powers, I can say that. Makes your story a little more . . . believable.” He looked around. “Why did you come out here so late at night?”

“Early morning really, but who's counting? I had a nightmare. Most of the time when I dream it's not someone giving me hints, but sometimes it is. This was one of those times. I think everyone else I care about that's still miraculously alive in this universe is going to die if I don't do a commando raid without them.”

“Doesn't sound wise to do that alone, ma'am.”

“It's probably not. But . . .” Finally, the tears I'd been holding back showed up and rolled down my face. Stripes got out of my purse and into my lap. Cuddled him and tried not to make his fur all wet. “Everyone's dead. Or they're teaching grade school or something. My mother is dead, and I want to ask her what to do so badly. My whole team is down to three guys, all of whom I love and none of whom can I stand the idea, let alone the reality, of losing.”

Cox pulled out a handkerchief and gave it to me.

Sniffled as I wiped my eyes. “Thanks. Well, Mossad will help, but three of them are friends of mine in my own world. And I don't want more people I like to end up dead here.”

“Why are you taking the cat along?”

“He said I could have a sidekick and a mascot.”

“He? The cat talked to you?”

Decided not to answer this one honestly. I'd save the Dr. Doolittle news for later. “No, Mephistopheles. He seems to enjoy visiting me in my sleep.”

“Really. You sure you didn't just hit your head or something?”

“Oh, I did, right before I rode the tornado here and wound up in Oz and all that, but A-Cs also have enhanced healing and I got that, too. Think of me as Wolverine with Boobs, but without claws, and you'll be right.”

“The cat covers the claws part.”

Stripes purred that Cox wasn't so dumb.

“Yeah.”

Cox cleared his throat. “I'm the lone survivor from my unit. No one from my Top Gun class is alive anymore. My dad died while I was deployed. Hit-and-run drunk driver. They never found the person who killed him. I got sent home on extended leave because I'm a decorated war hero and my mom was dying. Cancer a thing in your world?”

“Yeah, we haven't cured it yet.”

“Well, it's still a thing here, too. Though I don't think my mom wanted to fight anymore, not without my dad. Only child, so no siblings, and we were never close with the extended family. And, to thank me for my service and my sacrifices, I've been assigned to a TDY that attaches me to the C.I.A.”

“TDY?”

“Temporary Duty.”

“Ah. You looking forward to it?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Who are you going to report to?”

“Some guy named Clifford Goodman.”

Stared at him. “Say what?”

“Why did you just get freaked out? Oh. No way! Is he your Sith Lord?”

“Got it in one.”

“You have proof?”

“Dude, of course not. That would make things far too freaking easy. I'd like to get some before I take him out, of course, because I like to be really sure. However, in my experience, the bad guys love to monologue while they have you or an innocent at gunpoint, and that's when you tend to get all the damn proof you need.”

“Bet if you had an inside man who's cool under fire and smart enough to know when to duck and when to shoot it would help you out.”

“Couldn't hurt. But there's lots of risk, not the least of which is being killed. Or, much worse for someone like you, being branded traitor.”

“You're not a traitor if you save the world. Even if the world thinks you're a traitor when you save it.”

“I like how you think. The Sidekick role is still open.”

“Not anymore.” He stood up and helped me up. Then he hit attention and saluted me. “Lieutenant Commander William Cox reporting for duty, ma'am.”