CHAPTER 36
LET THAT SIT on the air a bit. “Um, come again?”
“Aliens are among us,” Siler said. “It’s not really that much of a surprise. If Muddy’s people can travel here without most Earthlings knowing, and the Ancients and Z’porrah can travel here, again without most Earthlings knowing, and A-Cs can land here and be hidden for decades without most Earthlings knowing, why not a race that wants to hide here and just never bothered to check in with the authorities?”
“Is that what they found? A hidden race?” Wondered if Jeff was going to be able to take this news once he got out of isolation, or if it would just put him right back in. I wasn’t an empath and the isolation chambers terrified me, but right about now, they were looking pretty good.
“Somewhat hidden,” Buchanan said. “Hiding in plain sight, so to speak.”
“Either you’re trying to be coy—which isn’t a good look for you—or you don’t want to tell me. Which is it, Malcolm?”
“Neither. I only want to tell you, your mother, Mister Executive Chief, Mister White the Elder, and Mister Reynolds.”
“God, I hate it when you get all official. It only means bad things.”
“Exactly.” Buchanan took my arm. “Let’s get your husband and Mister White, grab Reynolds, and get to your mother, pronto.”
Put Alpha Team in charge of getting Tobin to wherever we were getting him. Put Christopher in charge of finding out what Serene and her team were now up to. Had a brief argument with Buchanan about bringing Muddy along with us. Siler backed me, though—if we had two Turleens with Wruck, then one Turleen with us was probably the way to go.
Muddy put Lily in charge of the rest of the Turleens, and I put Viola, Carmine, and Romeo in charge of ensuring that the Turleens stayed inside Caliente Base. Thusly set up, Muddy, Siler, Buchanan, Chuckie, and I headed off to get Jeff out of isolation, my Secret Service detail and the K-9 squad coming along as a matter of course.
Isolation chambers were a combination of an iron maiden and the Mummy’s Tomb, with a lot of scientific-like extras tossed in to make them really hit eleven on the creepy scale. And every Centaurion Base had a full section devoted to them, because Jeff wasn’t the only empath who needed the regenerative fluids and the total emotional calm the isolation chambers provided.
So far, Jamie hadn’t needed to use one. Neither had Charlie. Continued to hope that my children would be spared the need. However, the isolation chamber in our rooms in the White House was rather cozy, with comfy beds that made it look more like you were staying at an austere Sheraton than going to bed with a zillion needles stuck in you.
Jeff’s Secret Service detail were guarding the door, Joseph on one side, Rob on the other, with the rest spread out a bit to watch all potential avenues of entry. Since the isolation area was basically rows of chambers, this made sense. Resisted the urge to shudder—this place and all those like it kept Jeff alive. My being creeped out by them, therefore, wasn’t important.
The beds in standard isolation chambers weren’t cushy nor comfy. They were more like large metal trays that were movable into whatever position the patient needed. Normally it was at an angle, with the head higher than the feet, and that’s what I expected to see.
Instead, we found Jeff sitting in a chair, looking reasonably relaxed. This was a new one. White was in there with him, also in a chair.
Knocked on the window. White got up and opened the door. “Are we ready to go?”
“Wow, I’m not used to seeing anyone so casual in one of these, Jeff in particular.”
Jeff stood up and shrugged. “I wasn’t at a point of collapse, baby. I was heading that way, but I could have lasted for quite a while more. It just made more sense for me to get into a chamber and relax.”
“Jeffrey saw the light of reason when Charles pointedly asked who had adrenaline with them.” White’s eyes twinkled. “I chose to come along to keep him company.”
“Uncle Richard is rarely an emotional issue for me,” Jeff added, as he gave me a hug. “And before you say it, yes, baby, you are an emotional issue for me, but for all the right reasons.”
Hugged him back. “Good. I sincerely hope you’re really all rested up and such, because we have some news we need to share with you and my mother at the same time. And Mom would like that time to be pronto.”
We headed for the main gate, which, as per usual for most Bases, was on the ground-level floor, which was currently packed with Caliente Base residents returning home. “Where are we heading?” Jeff asked Buchanan.
“Dulce. Then Bermuda.”
We all stared at him. “We’re going on an impromptu vacation?” I asked. “I’m not against it, but I kind of thought we had issues going on and all that.”
Buchanan sighed. “Trust me, we won’t be there long. At either location.”
Jeff grunted as we went to one of the larger gates that would allow several of us to go through at the same time. He shared our destination with the gate agent, said agent calibrated the gate, Jeff swung me up into his arms, I buried my face in his neck, and we all stepped through.
As always it was nauseating and, also as always, it was a hell of a lot less nauseating because Jeff was holding me. It wasn’t a long trip from Caliente Base to the Dulce Science Center, so that was good. It was going to be a lot longer to Bermuda. Made a mental note to reapply my sunscreen before we left.
As per usual when arriving at Dulce via the gates, we exited onto the Command Center Level, aka the Bat Cave, where a lot of The Future: NOW! looking science-y stuff was being used and everyone, human and A-C, was bustling about like the busiest of bees. It was a lot more crowded here than normal, because of Caliente Base being evacuated.
The majority of Earth’s A-Cs worked in the Science Center. NASA Base had the second highest A-C population, with the rest of the A-C population spread out to the other Bases worldwide. Meaning that many of the people living in the Science Center had children who’d moved to Caliente Base. So there were a lot of family groups hanging out talking, working, hugging, and so on.
Apparently we were stopping at Dulce to leave the K-9 unit with their remaining prisoners. Though it didn’t seem likely that any of them—sorta prisoners or K-9 squad—was going to be leaving any time soon.
Bud and Cujo were being shown around by Len and Kyle, who had apparently forgiven the younger guys for going to a school that wasn’t USC, playing on a rival football team from the Trojans, and being in a frat other than whatever frat Len and Kyle had been in as undergrads. Realized I didn’t know. Realized I currently didn’t care, either, but added it to the Worst Boss Ever List that I was keeping for myself.
Bud and Cujo also had expressions I was familiar with—the “I can’t believe there are this many hot chicks in the world!” looks. They were getting eyed by several of the younger Dazzlers who hadn’t gone back to Caliente Base yet. Had a feeling we’d just scored two new recruits, because if the Dazzlers were interested, it meant Bud and Cujo were smart.
Mickey and Garfield were in medical, getting treatment, and Tito refused to allow them to be taken back into custody. Melville didn’t argue much, probably because the Dazzlers on Duty were a great distraction, and also because Jeff made the “what Tito wants, Tito gets” statement and no one felt like arguing with the Top Man.
The working girls were a different situation, however. Because they were insisting they needed to come with me.
“I want to help Code Name: First Lady,” Jane said emphatically. She’d been told my name but refused to use it. Decided that there were more important battles to be fought. “We helped already. We want to help more.”
Rhonda nodded. “I think we added our share. And we’d be dead if the First Lady hadn’t saved us. We heard it was part of the plan, that the weirdo robot thing knew she’d rescue everyone, but I gotta tell you, we aren’t taking that for granted. Plus, we’re ready to kick some ass if anyone tries anything.”
“I just do not want to go back to jail,” Meriel said quietly. “Or back to our pimp. And I would like to be helpful to the people who have helped us.”
“I knew this was going to happen,” Jeff muttered. “The new jocks aren’t leaving either, and the old men aren’t going to be allowed to leave until they’re already so integrated in they won’t want to go.”
“How is this my fault? How? Just because they’re jazzed about helping out? That’s a good thing. Citizens need to be involved. Look at it as a great way of getting the recruiting process started.” Which gave me an idea. “Girls, I’d like to ask you to help work on a really important project.”
The three girls gave me their utmost attention. “Whatever you need,” Rhonda said. Jane nodded enthusiastically. Meriel looked suspicious.
“We need to create a recruitment campaign that encourages people to sign up to become a part of Centaurion Division to protect Earth and her allies, whether they’re here on the planet or far away.”
Meriel brightened up. “Oh, a propaganda campaign! I know about those, my grandfather told me all about them.”
Decided now wasn’t the time to get all the pertinent details, especially when I took a look at Jeff and Chuckie’s expressions. “Super! So, um, you guys get started on that. You’ll have to integrate your ideas in with the larger team’s but well begun is half done and all that other Mary Poppins stuff.”
Waved Len and Kyle over, explained the new assignment, and added them, Bud, and Cujo to the mix, meaning that the prisoners would be under Len and Kyle’s guidance and watchful eyes. Gently suggested that if Officers Melville, Larry, and Curly had input they should share it as well, but made it clear that the team leader was Len with Kyle as second in command.
Working girls now put to work on something other than sexual favors, potential new jock recruits also put to good use, Len and Kyle not feeling totally left out, K-9 unit officially watching their prisoners, so to speak, and my sunscreen reapplied, we headed to the elevator bank in order to get to the main gate level, which was where Buchanan wanted us leaving from.
While waiting, a nose nudged at my knee. Sure enough, Prince was there and shoved in between me and Jeff.
Who heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Someone let Melville know that his dog wants a trip to Bermuda.”
Gave Prince some major loving while Buchanan sent a text. “He just wants to protect us.”
“I just want to know what’s going on,” Chuckie said. “Why are we going to Bermuda when Angela wants to meet with us?”
“Because she’s there,” Buchanan said as the elevator arrived and we all loaded in. It was a tight fit, and Buchanan forced our Secret Service details to take other elevators.
Evalyne shook her head. “You’re planning to go to Bermuda without us, aren’t you?”
“I’m not,” I said loyally.
Buchanan shrugged. “Yes. Because the Head of the P.T.C.U. has another assignment for all of you. However, I’ll give that to you upstairs.”
Dulce went down fifteen floors. Way back when and what, these days, seemed a lifetime ago, Jeff and I had lived on the fifteenth level in what I called his Human Lair. There were many days I still missed the Lair, though our family was now too big to live there comfortably. But I’d have been willing to give it a try and, based on Jeff’s expression when Buchanan hit the button for the top floor and Jeff looked at the button for Floor 15, he’d have been willing to try, too.
We exited and, true to his word, Buchanan waited for the Secret Service contingents to arrive. As they did, Buchanan sent another text, and two more A-Cs joined us.
One of them I knew—Francine Alexis was Colette’s eldest sister, one of Raj and Serene’s most experienced troubadours, and the A-C we used as my body double. Which was a total compliment to me, because Francine was a Dazzler and therefore far hotter than me. But if you’re told it’s the FLOTUS and the double looks close enough, rarely does anyone question.
The man with her wasn’t someone I’d met. However, he did resemble Jeff. He was clearly an A-C, though he wasn’t quite as handsome as Jeff was. Then again, I felt that Jeff was the hottest guy in the galaxy, so I might have been a tad biased. He was introduced as Craig Rossi. Showing incredible self-control, I didn’t make any Martini & Rossi jokes, but it took a great deal of effort.
Craig was dressed like every other A-C or human agent working with them—in the Armani Fatigues. Francine, however, wasn’t dressed like me, but instead was in my FLOTUS Uniform—an iced blue blouse, black skirt, and comfortable black pumps. Her hair was down and actually styled, and she had makeup on. Clearly the idea was that I’d changed and primped after fighting Apache helicopters in the desert. Could not argue with the mindset.
“You’re escorting these two,” Buchanan said to our Secret Service details, nodding at Francine and Craig, “back to the White House. In a very obvious manner.”
“Are we flying?” Evalyne asked.
Buchanan shook his head. “No, it’s too dangerous right now. However, you’re going to go back to Pueblo Caliente and make a brief appearance where the President will shake hands with the mayor to show continued support. Then you’re going to Sky Harbor and being seen to be getting onto a private supersonic jet.”
“But we’ll use hyperspeed and actually go to a gate in the airport,” Francine said. “So everyone needs to be prepared for that because we have to exit after we’re all on board but before the exit ramp goes up.”
Joseph nodded. “We’re used to that kind of timing these days.”
“Then you’ll all go back to the White House complex and wait for when you have to ‘arrive’ at Andrews,” Buchanan continued. “Colonel Franklin is prepped for all of this.”
“Who’s providing the jet?” Chuckie asked suspiciously.
Buchanan grinned at him. “You are.”
“I don’t own a private jet,” Chuckie said flatly.
Managed not to share that in Bizarro World Chuckie and his family did indeed own a private jet. “Private jets are cool, and I’m sure someone can pay you back.”
Chuckie shot me the “really?” look. “I can afford to buy one, Kitty. I just never saw the need.”
Buchanan shrugged. “It’s a need now, and Pierre says to tell you that he got you a fantastic deal using contacts provided by Beaumont.”
“You know Vance has all the right contacts,” I said quickly. “And I can promise that he didn’t let Pierre buy some drug dealer’s used plane.”
Chuckie relaxed. “True enough. And, okay, if Pierre approved this, then I’m fine with it.”
“Who’s actually flying the jet back to D.C.?” Jeff asked.
“Airborne,” Buchanan said. “So it’ll be in good hands.” He shot the Secret Service a stern look. “And you know these two will also be in good hands, so no complaints about your assigned roles. The Head of the P.T.C.U. expects you to ensure that this fiction flies in all circles.”
The agents all nodded, then they encircled their new charges. Buchanan had them go off to Pueblo Caliente first. Once they were confirmed to be with the mayor and so forth, he gave the gate agent our coordinates.
We did the whole sordid gate transfer thing again, and this time was definitely longer, so worse for my stomach. However, where we landed wasn’t what I was prepared for. At all.