Alien Nation (Katherine "Kitty" Katt #14)

“We had A-Cs on-site,” Kevin said as we headed back the way I’d come. “The fire alarm meant they went into action. Everyone’s evacuated other than us, and we were coming back to make sure you’d gotten to safety.” Well, that huge relief explained why I’d found no one so far. Go team.

“What about the prisoners?” There were men and women in these cells. They might have been in for DUIs or prostitution or much worse, but still, they might be innocent, and even if they weren’t, this wasn’t the way they should go. Cliff’s insanity had killed too many people—innocent and guilty alike, indiscriminately and with much happy malice aforethought—for me to want to let him or his minions kill anyone else.

“I don’t care about them,” Kevin said. “I care about the First Lady.”

The Casey-Bot was out and blocking us. Manfred managed to come to a stop before we reached her. She smiled at us, one of those nasty smiles all the bad guys seemed to adore. “And here I was trying to help you.”

Wrenched out of Kevin’s hold as “Thanks for Nothing” came on. My iPod wasn’t on general random, it was on random for Sum 41. Worked for me. “Be right with you, Casey.” Looked back at Kevin and Manfred. “And I care about all of you. Get those people and yourselves out, and that’s an executive order or whatever. I’ll handle our Casey-Bot.” With that, I flipped myself forward.

Hit her in the chest with both feet and congratulated myself on the skills working to optimum. Not that it was hard when I was this angry. And not that there was anyone around to witness it, because, thankfully, Manfred had taken my direct order to heart and was wrenching the cell doors open while Kevin collected prisoners, so they were a little occupied.

The Casey-Bot went backwards and as she hit the floor I sprang off and flipped into a crouch facing her. She flipped up from a prone position onto her feet. If she somehow wasn’t an android, she was a world-class gymnast. Voted for android without a lot of contemplation.

She swung a roundhouse kick at me, which I dodged while I swept her legs, which she jumped over. This landed her closer to me, though, so I sent an upward blade kick into her stomach and she flew back into her cell.

Kevin slammed the cell door shut and grabbed me. Then he pulled a gun and started shooting, right at her head. Six shots in, her head crumpled and I knew what was coming for sure now. Chose not to wait around and took off for the bathroom.

Arrived as Manfred was shoving what I hoped was the last prisoner through. Heard the explosion and it sounded massive. Didn’t look around, just shoved Manfred through as well and kept on going, dragging Kevin with me, hoping the heat I was feeling was just my imagination.





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.

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