Universal Alien (42 page)

A
S THE GLASS SHATTERED,
the gators, sensing something interesting happening, headed toward their new door. The assassins, sensing a much more immediate threat than six captured prisoners and one desk jockey with a gun, started shooting at the oncoming alligators.

And I slammed into the other wall, feet first. And stopped.

This was more than jarring, and I'd probably need to see a chiropractor when I got home, but accelerated healing meant that my spine and joints settled themselves back into place quickly.

Fortunately, increased strength meant I could extract myself from the wall I'd jammed myself into reasonably quickly. Once free of the wall, I had to dodge bullets, but even the ones I couldn't dodge didn't do much. Alfred's Super Kevlar was amazing—the bullets just bounced off. They stung when they hit, but I'd take feeling like someone was throwing pebbles at me really hard over leaking blood from a hundred different orifices. And most of the bullets were being sent at the gators anyway, who were getting seriously pissed about being shot at and therefore charging.

One was near Cliff, who swung the nozzle of his Death Ray toward it and hit the button. A blinding light flashed, and then the gator was no more. He did this to all the rest of the gators. The machine was quite exact and all the zapping took very little time. There were tiny piles of dust where the gators had been, but that was all. Felt everyone in the room get very still.

“You will stop hiding,” Cliff said, presumably to me, “you will put that gun down, and you will come here, or I will turn this on again.” He aimed the nozzle at Charlie. Who winced but didn't cry. Max and Jamie just looked terrified and angry, but they didn't make any noise. Awesome kids. The men were also thankfully silent.

In this case, decided dropping the big gun was the way to go. Tossed it to the edge of the gator enclosure, right by the broken glass. “Sure, okay. Turn that on me, though, not on the kids.”

Cliff shrugged. “Since you insist. Oh, and Esteban, in case you didn't notice. Raul's got his gun pointed at you. He won't miss. Don't try anything heroic. And you others who are hiding in the hall—I want you in here, too. Or the kid dies.”

Alfred and Cox stepped into the room, Cox holding Stripes.

“Take those ridiculous masks off,” LaRue ordered. The men obliged. “Off the stupid animal, too.” Cox took Stripe's mask off. Stripes hissed at LaRue but not for the obvious reasons. He didn't think she smelled right. LaRue turned back to me. “Mask. Off. Now.”

“My hair's kind of a mess. I'd like to keep it on.” At least as long as I could. Was trying to figure out where the off switch was on Cliff's Death Ray machine or if there was anything I could do to it that wouldn't hurt everyone in the room I cared about. Sadly, I wasn't Alfred. I wasn't Chuckie, either. There were many things in there, but they were just so many weird, moving parts to me.

“Take the mask off or say goodbye to the little boy,” Cliff said as he swung the Death Ray back at Charlie.

Took the mask off, though I kept it in my hand. Sadly, this meant that I no longer heard Tina Turner in the background. On the other hand, Cliff was ensuring I could stay enraged, so that was good. “Okay. Again, stop threatening a little kid. You want to threaten? Threaten me.”

Cliff turned the nozzle back my way. “If you insist.”

“I do.” I was tensed to leap and run and I kept Rage right there in front of me. Hoped I would be fast enough to escape the Death Ray but avoiding finding out was my preferred plan.

“Where are you from?” LaRue asked.

“Arizona.” Well, this was true.

“That's not what I mean and you know it,” she snapped. “Where are you from? And when?”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“You're not from around here. And the tech you're using, it's not from around here, either. So, when and/or where are you from?”

So they thought I was a time traveler? Maybe that would help. Had no idea how, but hope liked to spring eternal. Mercifully, no one was looking at Alfred, though he was doing well with keeping his expression neutral. “No idea what you mean.” Get her talking, figure out what to do.

“Don't worry. We're going to use your DNA, and hers,” she nodded toward Jamie. “You'll ensure that we can live forever.”

This boded. “That's impossible.”

“Hardly,” Cliff said. He sounded smug and excited. “Cloning isn't even a new process. But adding in special genetics makes it work so much better.”

Damn. They were talking about cloning themselves. Could not allow that to happen here. This world had no defenses against them. “So, you want to clone me over and over again? I get why, I mean, 'cause I'm awesome and all, but still, it seems a little pointless.”

LaRue laughed one of those low, nasty laughs. She was really good at them, in any universe. The assassins, picking up a cue, all sniggered along. LaRue shot them a look and they shut up. “I've been waiting a long time for someone like you.”

“How do you mean? Someone who isn't impressed with your crap? I cannot have been the first.”

“No, you idiot. A genetic leap. Or a visitor from another planet, or another, future time. You're one of those.”

Ah. So they didn't know who I was, just that, somehow, I could do things that were unheard of on this planet. Hence why they thought I was an alien or a time traveler. She hadn't included Alfred, Cox, or even Stripes in this, meaning they were thinking everything we had and were doing was from me. It was a small favor, but I was willing to take it.

“It's a nice compliment, but I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“You can go invisible and make other things invisible,” Bernie spat out. “And you have increased strength.”

“Oh. That. Well, it's a long story. But, LaRue, I'm more interested in your story.”

“Really?” She sounded mildly surprised.

“Why do you care about her?” Cliff asked. He sounded just a teensy bit peeved. “I'm the one who created the Death Ray.”

Vanity. His weakness was absolutely vanity. And hers probably was, too. One didn't become a Bond Supervillain with without a hell of a lot of vanity egging you on, after all.

“Are you? I'm not so sure. I mean, usually—and LaRue and even Bernie can probably back me up on this—men like to take the credit for what women create and think up.” Madeline Cartwright had certainly felt this way, and since I wasn't in the best position to bargain, it was time to channel Cartwright and see what I could come up with.

“LaRue assisted,” Cliff said.

Her eyes narrowed. “I more than assisted. You're not a scientist.”

“It's my design, and my plan,” Cliff said airily. But then, LaRue was looking at me, not him, so he couldn't see her expression. If he'd seen her expression, he might have apologized.

“And Cliff's vendetta, too,” I added helpfully.

LaRue looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why in the world do you care about hurting anyone in this room? I get why Cliff's upset—my mother killed his father-figure and that can get a person into a
Kill Bill
kind of mindset.” I was certainly in said mindset, for example. And, sure, Chuckie had said he'd actually killed Reid. But now was
not
the time to remind anyone with a weapon about that. “But no one here has done anything to you, LaRue. I don't think anyone here other than me knows who you are.”

“Who am I?” she asked with a smirk.

“You're the brains of the operation, the power behind the throne, and the person who should probably rightfully be called the Mastermind.”

LaRue smiled. A small, funny, proud little smile. “You're much more insightful than you seem.” Sent a mental thank you to Cartwright, wherever she was.

“Oh, please,” Cliff said derisively. “LaRue is my partner, yes, but I'm the one in charge. And I can see what you're doing. You're trying to drive a wedge between us. Well, it won't work. LaRue is more than my partner, she's my woman.”

“That's what men like to say when they're taking credit for your ideas, isn't it?” I said in a “just girls” tone.

“Where are you from?” LaRue asked me, fairly nicely. “Seriously, I want to know.”

My brain nudged. She was asking this too much. She did want to know, but her attitude no longer seemed supercilious, or even curious. She sounded just a tiny bit hopeful. And Stripes felt she didn't smell right, and he wasn't passing judgment on her perfume.

When Cartwright and I had been chatting, we'd gotten along, because we'd actually understood each other. In my world, LaRue had been an adversary for as long as I'd known her—Amy's father's mistress wasn't going to be my buddy. But here, we'd never crossed paths. So, in that sense, this was a fresh relationship.

My father had always instructed me that when you were asked a question you didn't know how or didn't want to answer, it was more than acceptable to answer that question with another question. It was sound advice that had served me well.

“Where are
you
from?”

LaRue's eyes widened just a bit. “Far away. And you?”

“Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning.”

“Ah. I'm from farther than that.”

And she hadn't read the classics while she'd been here. Which was interesting. Alfred was a stranded alien, and he'd read and watched everything, as near as I could tell. Algar was the same—per my King of the Elves, there wasn't a book, movie, record, or TV show he'd missed. But LaRue appeared to have no idea I was quoting from
Peter Pan
. Which showed an amazing lack of interest in the arts of this world. And art reflected and affected society, which was part of why Alfred and Algar had paid attention to Earth's art.

In my world, when LaRue had left Alpha Four in a stolen starship, she'd headed to parts unknown and had returned with the Z'Porrah, who were enemies of mankind. They were also enemies of the Ancients. And yet, they'd come across the galaxy to help LaRue, who certainly looked like a human, try to take over Earth. And LaRue's hair had still been the same dyed color when she returned as it had been when she'd left.

Chuckie was the Conspiracy King and he'd trained me well. And, per Sherlock Holmes and my “uncle,” Peter the Dingo Dog, when you removed all the other possibilities, the one that remained, no matter how bizarre, was the truth.

There could be many reasons why LaRue smelled wrong to an Earth animal. And there were a lot of good and bad reasons to clone. But there was one reason that made sense for both—she wasn't a human or an A-C, and if you had no one else to mate with, cloning was your only option to continue your race.

“It's hard to be the last of your kind, isn't it?”

She got a funny look on her face. “Some still exist.”

Took my best guess. “At the galactic core, sure, maybe. If they haven't died out by now. And on Beta Twelve. But they mingled in centuries ago, they aren't pure.”

“No, they're not.”

Managed not to high five myself. Time for my next guess. “Did you come in the nineteen-fifties? You look way too young to have been here that long.”

The compliment worked. LaRue shot me a friendly smile. “We age differently than humans, but no. I was on the team that followed up when those sent here on the mission you're referring to didn't check in at the planned time.”

“Did they stay here?”

She shook her head. “No. Frankly, they were just late to contact the Home World. However, my mission was already launched.” She shrugged. “I was the communications officer and I didn't feel any need to share that we'd been recalled.”

“So, when you came here, did you decide to change sides, or were you always a Z'Porrah spy?” Had my guess, of course, but it was better to have her confirm or deny.

LaRue shrugged. “I have more in common with the Z'Porrah than my own people.”

I was batting a thousand. If only we weren't all still in extremely grave danger I'd preen. Hopefully there'd be time for that later. Hopefully we'd get a later. “We call your people the Ancients where I come from. Is that the name you use for yourselves?”

“No, but it's not pronounceable for most other races. It means ‘people,' though. And Ancients is a good name for them.” Now she sounded bitter.

“What did they do to you? That made you change sides, I mean.”

“That's enough,” Cliff snarled at me. He looked at LaRue. “You're an alien? And you never told me?”

LaRue shrugged and turned away from me. “You never asked.” Their attention was focused on each other and the assassins' shocked attention was focused on them. I'd never have a better chance.

Sent a request up to whoever might be listening for this effort to go a lot better than the last one. Then I rolled.