However, I didn’t see any signs of this. And from the way the dogs were sniffing and growling, they weren’t sure where the hisser actually was.
“Whoever just sneezed or whatever, we have no idea who or where you are, so if you want to talk to us, now might be a good time to, you know, speak up.”
The dogs broke rank and trotted off. Decided to follow them. Because I had hyperspeed, I used it to avoid anyone being able to grab me. Because they weren’t stupid, the others followed us.
The dogs headed into another room that was close to the elevators. If I’d ever been in this room before I didn’t remember the experience. There was nothing amazing about the room—there was a small conference table and a few chairs and far less of the usual A-C bells and whistles than the rooms I was normally spending time in—it just wasn’t familiar.
But the dogs felt there was something very special in here. They spread out to surround the table as best they could, with Prince staying in front of the door and Duke and Riley taking the long sides of the table.
Dropped to my hands and knees to see a turtle-ish person standing there under the table, hunched over just a bit, hands out in that “don’t attack me, doggies” kind of way, looking freaked out. Close up, it looked kind of like a bright green Jiminy Cricket crossed with a frog, with two long fingers and one long opposable thumb on all four limbs and huge, teardrop-shaped teal eyes. However, the shell on its back said turtle. And it also looked familiar.
In fact, it looked like the statue that had been delivered to my office.
CHAPTER 23
“HEY THERE, JIMINY, want to explain what you’re doing here before my big, brave puppies have some turtle soup?”
The turtle turned its head fully toward me. “I’m here to escort you.”
Well, that was a new one. “Um, escort me where?” The rest of those with me were also down on their hands and knees now, and Prince had come a lot closer to our newest visitor.
“To meet my people. We’ve come to ask for asylum.”
“Hey,” Garfield said, “we seen you before!”
“Yes,” Mickey agreed, “we did. They were scuttling around before your people came in. No one believed us when we pointed them out.”
“Because they’re drunks,” Kevin said quietly. “No one listens to the ravings from the drunk tank.”
“Apparently this time someone should have. What’s your name?” I asked our visitor. “Because I’m just betting that though you kind of look like Jiminy Cricket, that’s not what your parents named you. And I’m presuming you have parents, so if that’s wrong, too, just let me know.”
“I do have parents. My name is not Jiminy Cricket, but I don’t think you can pronounce it.” Sounded male, though I had no way of being sure if this was an accurate assessment or not. The females could sound like this for all we knew at this time.
“Wow. I’m going officially on record that everyone on Earth is sick and tired of every visiting alien race sharing that we can’t pronounce their fabulous names. We have a lot of weird names on this planet, including those from countries that seem like they either don’t use vowels or don’t use consonants. So, you know, try me. Just for grins and giggles.”
“Okay.” He opened his mouth and made a sound that reminded me of bubbles going through a water dispenser. He looked at me expectantly.
“Um, yeah, okay, I have no idea what that was. Anyone else?” The general comments were that no one could translate whatever that sound had been. And the Universal Translators I’d discovered we all had implanted weren’t coming up with anything, either. “Well, while we may be sick and tired of it, in your case, at least, you’re right. So, what should we call you?”
“Based on your many languages, I believe my name would translate to Muddy.”
“Like Muddy Waters?”
“I suppose so.” Muddy sounded unsure. “Fifteenth child born in mud is what my name means in my own language. If Waters is an ending name, however, that would not translate. I am from what I believe would translate as the Cabbage Clan.”
I was unsure that Muddy Cabbage was as good a name as Jiminy Cricket. It certainly wasn’t as good as being Muddy Waters. However, I chose to use some of my hard-learned diplomacy, such as it was. “Then Muddy would be fine for us, and yes, Waters is a last name in the example I was using. But, do you like how that name sounds to you? Because if you don’t, now’s your chance to change it.”
He stared at me. “You can change your names here?”
“Um, yeah, in a lot of ways. But, since you’re new here and we literally have no idea of what to call you or your people, if you want us to call you something other than Muddy, we’re okay with that.”
“I’d really like to know what planet Muddy is from,” Kevin said.
“Oh, good point.” Waited. Muddy said nothing. He looked at me expectantly, however. “Fine. Who are your people and where are they from? Oh, and please respond to any of our questions, not just mine.”
“As you wish. We are called the Turleens from the planet Tur. It’s in the system I believe you call Sirius.”
“Are you the only sentient race on your planet or in your solar system?” Kevin asked.
“No, there are others.” Muddy looked uneasy and sounded underwhelmed.
My turn to ask a question that I didn’t have to repeat. “How many of them are coming to visit Earth?”
“I have no idea. Do you feel we should change our names to be accepted by Earth?”
I found the subject change back to naming conventions interesting, but Buchanan spoke before I could say anything else. “Can we get off the floor anytime soon? I’m sure Muddy or whatever he may choose to end up calling himself can tell us what his new name will be when we’re all standing.”
Muddy looked at him. “Why do you need to stand up to have a meeting?”
“You’re standing,” I pointed out.
He nodded. “That’s true.” He took a step closer to me. Prince shared that Muddy was damn well close enough via a very intimidating growl. “I mean her no harm,” Muddy said. To Prince. Directly.
Prince growled again, this time a little less threateningly. He wasn’t convinced.
“There are indeed traitors in your midst,” Muddy said quietly. Wasn’t sure how many of the others could hear him. “But I’m not one of them.”
“Where are your friends, the other two who were pretending to be statues in the police bathroom?”
“They’re with your other friend,” Muddy said. “They are all searching the premises to make sure that there are no other traitors here.”
“Do you mean John?”
“I mean the Old One.”
Old One was close enough to Ancient, and since the Ancients and Z’porrah had meddled all over the galaxy, Muddy knowing about them wasn’t a shocker. Which side he and his people were on was a far more important question. But it was one I figured I needed to sneak up to.
“How did you deliver yourself to my office?”
“My friends and I brought the box in, I got inside of it, and they sealed me in. I was hoping to speak to you privately.”