The female A-Cs, whom I called the Dazzlers, at least to myself, were sapiosexual, didn’t care what someone looked like, and they felt that humans had more brains and brain capacity than their own people did. I didn’t necessarily agree with this theory, though I got where it came from—I’d never met a dumb Dazzler because even those considered idiots by their peers were genius-level for humans, but I had hit a couple of not-so-bright male A-Cs, though they were few and far between.
The male A-Cs just liked people who made them feel smarter than the female A-Cs did, meaning humans were really scoring the excellent mating opportunities. And I wasn’t going to argue with the situation either, since, by now, we had a lot of really happy humans married to equally happy A-Cs, and I was all for couples’ harmony. Particularly my own.
“I need the greatest warrior in the galaxy.” Despite my focus on Jeff’s hotness, the beach was starting to fade away. Did my best to hold onto the dream and, if not the dream, at least Jeff’s naked body.
“And you’re talking to me why?”
“Because your reputation precedes you.”
Things had been relatively quiet on the Political Crap front, even quieter on the Evil Megalomaniac front, and the Marauding Aliens front had been blissfully silent. Apparently this last one was silent no longer, though.
Visions of Jeff’s naked body washed fully away. I was now officially bitter. “Super. As dreams go, this one stinks. Just sayin’.”
“My mind has traveled through the DreamScape in order to find you.”
“Whee. I think you got lost somewhere along the way.”
Really wondered if I’d eaten something that was causing this kind of bizarreness. But we hadn’t had a state dinner, I hadn’t snuck in a huge amount of junk food, and the White House chef wasn’t prone to making anything bad. Chef was far healthier in what he prepared than I’d ever been. And I’d only had two of his chocolate mousses for dessert, so it couldn’t be that.
“No, I’ve worked my way through the DreamScape to find you. I need your help.”
This dream wasn’t going away. Tried to wake up. Failed. “So you said. And I ask again—why me? And what the heck is the DreamScape, anyway? That sounds like an old Dennis Quaid movie.” I could find it in my libido to add in Dennis Quaid too. Dennis Quaid, Ewan McGregor, and Jeff would be a combination I could enjoy for a really long time. In another dream. One not being constantly interrupted by an alien I didn’t know and didn’t want to know. Had to wonder if other people had dreams like this. Probably not. I was “lucky” this way.
“Why you is because you always manage to win. The DreamScape is the realm that connects us all. And I have no idea who Dennis Quaid is or what a movie is, either.”
“Uh huh, right, pull the other one. It has uninterested bells on and all that jazz.”
“The fate of my world depends upon you.”
“Doubt it. Sincerely doubt it. I officially want to tell myself that this kind of dream is not on my particular Netflix queue and I don’t want anything similar to it suggested, either.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“So few ever do. Look, good luck with whatever you’ve got going on wherever in my subconscious you happen to be. But I’m not your girl.”
“I’m not in your subconscious.”
“But that’s what my wily subconscious would say, now, wouldn’t it?”
“I don’t know.” The voice sounded desperate. “My name is Ixtha. Please help me.”
“Well, that’s different. What’s my name, then?” I mean, my subconscious certainly knew my name.
“I only know you as the Warrior Queen.”
“Right. Not as the First Lady of the United States, not as the Queen Regent of Earth for the Annocusal Royal Family of Alpha Four, and not as Earth’s Galactic Representative to the Galactic Council. But as the Warrior Queen. Gotcha. I think you were looking for Queen Renata of the Free Women of Beta Twelve, but you do you and all that.”
“I have no idea who those people are or what those titles mean.” Ixtha sounded serious. Which was odd, because my subconscious certainly knew all the various and current roles I was stuck doing whether I liked them or not.
Figured I’d try one last title. “What about Shealla? Do you know her?” That was my God Name on Beta Eight.
“Yes! Shealla is the Warrior Queen. You are Shealla?”
“If you already knew, why’d you ask?”
“I don’t . . . what? What do you mean? I don’t understand you.”
“I thought you said you didn’t know my name.” Well, my Beta Eight name, but still it was a name I answered to. Though Shealla was supposed to be the Queen of the Gods and the Giver of Names, not the Warrior Queen. “Then again, my wily subconscious also knows that name.”
“I am not in your subconscious! I am in your dream, via the DreamScape. I have searched for you for so long, Shealla. I need your help, my people need your help. You who have saved so many, why will you not hear my plea?”
“Because I think you’re a figment of my vivid and overworked imagination. Though Ixtha is a cool name I haven’t heard before, so go team in terms of my creativity.”
“I am real, Shealla. As real as you are.”
“Yeah? Figure out what my real name is, and then visit me again. Or don’t. Really, you disturbed a great dream and I’m still bitter about it.”
“The longer we speak the better my connection is to you, and I can search your mind for clues. Please give me that time, Shealla. I will do as you ask, discover your true name, and then you will help me and my people, yes?”
“Sure, I guess. Why not, right?” Was going to add a really witty and sarcastic comment, but the sounds of the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ “Universally Speaking” came on and thankfully dragged me into consciousness and away from the “DreamScape.”
The little joys of greeting the dawn, especially after this Dream O’ Weirdness, were without number.
CHAPTER 2
NORMALLY I HATED DRAGGING up as early as we now had to since Jeff had become the President, but never had I been so happy to wake up. Let the music play and rolled over to see if Jeff was still in bed.
He was not and I was displeased. Chose to blame my weird dream and got up. Checked for him in the bathroom. Not there. Trotted back and checked Mr. Clock in case I’d somehow slept through hours’ worth of musical alarm. I had not.
Went to the living room. Nada. Was about to just give up and take a shower when the main door of our Presidential Suite opened and Jeff came in with a big breakfast tray. He grinned at my expression. “I didn’t mean to worry you, Kitty. I just thought it would be nice to have breakfast in bed today.”
Ran through the potential reasons. Jeff was far more romantic than I was, and there might be something important I was missing. All our family birthdays were past—mine was the last one for several months, and it had been yesterday, and we’d celebrated by going to Paris as a family. Couldn’t come up with anything else.
“Um, great!”
Jeff laughed. “I’m giving the State of the Union address today while we christen the Distant Voyager, and I just want to be alone with my wife before I have to do that.”