CHAPTER 17
THIS GATE TRANSFER was longer than the previous one, but that wasn’t a surprise. We were most likely heading for the Dome, and New Mexico was a lot farther away from D.C. than the police station had been to the White House.
On the plus side, when I was this high on adrenaline, the gate transfer wasn’t as bad. Finished stepping through and didn’t even gag too much, but we hadn’t ended up where I was expecting. Based on the general ages of the faces looking worriedly at me and the fact that we were in what I recognized as a typical A-C main gate transfer area, we weren’t at the Dome, or even the Dulce Science Center. We were at Caliente Base.
Caliente Base was in Pueblo Caliente, Arizona, where Chuckie, Amy, and I had all grown up. It was a decent-sized A-C facility, in this location because the Southwest had been number one with a bullet when we’d had parasitic superbeings littering the planet. During Operation Drug Addict, I’d sort of led a secession and most of the younger A-Cs had moved here. Caliente Base was to American Centaurion a lot like the A-Cs in general were to the U.S. and the rest of the world—separate but equal.
Made sure Kevin was unscathed, then ensured that there was no scathing on anyone else. We all appeared okay. “Nice to see everyone. Why are we here?” I directed this question to Colette, since it seemed likely that she’d been the one spinning the calibration dial.
She shook her head. “I didn’t change the setting because I didn’t feel we had the time. I expected to go to the Dome.”
“Then I ask again, why are we here?” This time I was asking the A-Cs that were surrounding us. Some of them looked familiar. Three in particular. Did my best to force myself to try to remember if I knew any of them beyond having seen them in the halls over the past years. My lack of paying attention to things that mattered to other people—like remembering names and occupations of the people working with me—was amplified when I was around this many unfamiliar A-Cs. I was like a chameleon on plaid and about as useful.
Six years ago, if someone had told me that I’d start to think that a sea of beautiful people was normal and almost mundane, I’d have laughed my head off. But reality was that being surrounded by as much beauty as I was on a daily basis—in all its many varieties of skin tones and body types—ended up making it even harder for me to differentiate who was who if I didn’t know the people well. And, these days, I didn’t know anyone at Caliente Base all that well. It had been quite a while since we’d lived here, and we hadn’t lived here all that long, either.
“We don’t know,” a young woman I was prepared to say I’d met before replied. She was in her early to mid-20s, typical Dazzler gorgeous with long, curly, light brown hair and a perfect hourglass figure. “My science teams showed nothing that would indicate anything untoward.”
Memory did me a solid and tossed up that the reason this gal was saying “my” was because I’d promoted her to the head of science and medicine here during Operation Infiltration. Meaning this was, by my decree, the Top Dazzler On Duty, Viola Sciacca. “Viola, it’s good to see you.”
She beamed at me as the music changed to “Handle This.” I was definitely on the Sum 41 channel. Worked for me and the current situation. “It’s wonderful to see you, Madam First Lady.”
“Oh my God, don’t you start, too. First names right now, please and thank you.”
Viola laughed. “Sorry . . . Kitty. We’re in contact with the Dome to determine if the gate at your last location was tampered with.”
“I think we should ensure that the location still exists,” Kevin said. “That was a huge explosion. We barely got through in time.”
“But we did, Donald Downer, so let’s be happy. Speaking of which . . .” Turned and took a look around. “Where are the prisoners we brought with us?”
“Here,” Melville said from off to the side. There were three women and six men who were surrounded by A-C Field agents with weapons drawn. The K-9 units were nearby but not surrounding. The women all looked like they were working the streets. The men I couldn’t get as easy a read on—none of them were in micro-miniskirts, five-inch heels, and tiny tank tops. They ranged from kind of ragged and potentially homeless to jeans and t-shirts to suits. Two of each. Chose not to make a Noah’s Ark comment, but it took effort.
“Why aren’t you all on guard duty?” I asked Prince.
“We—” Melville started, but Prince wuffed, growled, wuffed again, whined, and wuffed one last time.
“Got it. They’re all still dealing with the effects of the gate transfer and have just finished being sick. They’re also clear they’re surrounded with nowhere to go, so at the moment, a low enough security risk to just allow the A-Cs to handle it. Good boys.”
Dug around in my purse. Charlie hadn’t quite started teething yet, but it was coming any day now, meaning I was carrying teething biscuits just in case. A-C baby teeth came in all at once, and based on Jeff’s reactions to Jamie’s teething, I kind of hoped Charlie would start ASAP so we could be on that world tour and far away from Jeff when he was in the worst of it.
Gave each dog a pet and a biscuit, figured I needed to focus and so stopped my iPod when the song finished and put it and my earbuds back into my purse, then turned back to the people. Took another close look around. Was pretty sure two of the guys were also people I knew. Both were, like Viola, in their early to mid-20s. One was about Christopher’s size and build and on the fairer side, while the other was taller with a darker Mediterranean look going. Both were, as per usual, incredibly handsome.
Memory again did me a solid and shared that the shorter one was Romeo Ruggero and the taller Carmine Giordano. I’d also put Romeo in charge of military and Carmine in charge of the gates during Operation Infiltration. This wasn’t as big a deal in most bases, but Caliente’s odd status made being the main Gate Agent an important position.
“There’s no tampering from our side,” Carmine said.
“Good to know. And good to see you again, Carmine, and you, too, Romeo.” Both dudes beamed and I saw their eyes dart around—not to look at those with me, but at the other A-Cs. It dawned on me that the FLOTUS visiting—regardless of your relationship to her—was perceived by many to be a big deal. Meaning this was kind of a test run for my world tour. That was me, getting a double any time I could.
“We need to regroup and advise the President that you’re alright,” Kevin said.
“True enough. Viola, lead on to a convenient conference room.”
“What about them?” Melville asked, pointing to the prisoners.
Considered options. A-Cs were fast but trusting. “Bring them with us.”
Kevin shot me the “really?” look. “Because you want them in a high-level meeting why?”
“They were down there. Besides, what else are we going to do with them?”
“I’d like to put them into a cell,” Melville said. It was clear that Larry and Curly agreed. The prisoners were far too busy looking around to share their opinions, though I was willing to bet “not a cell” would be what all nine of them would vote for.
“I’d personally like to make sure that they’re not contagious,” Tito said, still inside his hazmat suit. “Sure, we were dealing with an android or something, but she could have brought a virus along with her.”
“Let’s get into a room with a door we can close, then, just in case. Carmine and Romeo, I’d like you with us, too.” If we were contagious, we’d just infected all of Caliente Base—and therefore the majority of the Earth A-C breeding population—but I chose to keep that worry to myself.
We trotted off. Caliente Base was a smaller version of the Dulce Science Center. Dulce went down fifteen stories. Caliente only went down ten. We’d landed on what I considered the Base’s Bat Cave Level—where there were all sorts of computers, screens, terminals, and more, with tons of people dashing about doing things that it would probably make my head hurt to know about. Most were A-Cs, but there were always U.S. military personnel around as well.
We reached our conference room. In a human-run building, that room would have walls and perhaps some windows to look out at the view. In an A-C facility there was no view, so that was out. They seemed to adapt by giving all the conference rooms low walls with glass all the way to the ceiling. It was like being in a fishbowl. I still had no idea why A-Cs felt that they didn’t need to sequester themselves where they couldn’t be seen when having top-level meetings, but I’d given up worrying about it. Mostly because, based on new information we’d gotten during Operation Madhouse, I had a feeling it was influence from the Tinkerer.
Tito tested each of us as we entered the room. First he checked everyone with the OVS—the Organic Validation Sensor—which looked like the wands used by airport security to do the closer body checks, only with a lot more blinking lights.
Once each person was verified to be mostly organic and so not an android or Fem-Bot or whatever, it was shots time. Tito had a plethora of needles in his bag and seemed happily content to stab each and every one of us with them. No one complained—Operation Epidemic hadn’t been that long ago.
“If we’re infected, we’ll have to lockdown this Base,” Evalyne said quietly to me. “But D.C. is the bigger issue. We have no idea how many local LEOs were in contact with whatever that thing was.”
“Android, Fem-Bot, clone, some combo. The possibilities are really endless. I’m just glad we have no androids or robots or whatever with us right now.”
Tito studied his phone. Then frowned and shook his head.