Alien Diplomacy

was now, so shutting up was likely going to be the better part of valor. Besides, I had to cover Jamie’s ears while I screamed as we careened through a barricade, drove up a small ramp, took to the air, and landed to the sounds of Saliva’s “Click Click Boom.” At least we had a good soundtrack going, though I got the impression I was the only one taking the time to enjoy it.
    “Kitty, need the eardrums,” Christopher said, wincing. “You’re louder than the music, which is saying something.”
    “Don’t care. I’ve needed to scream for what seems like hours now, and couldn’t before.”
    “Why not?” Jeff asked as Len spun the car.
    “It would have scared Jamie.”
    “You screaming your head off now didn’t scare her?”
    “No. You’re with us now, so she knows Daddy will take care of it.”
    “Oh.” Jeff looked extremely pleased. The car stopped, however, and his expression went hard. “I want us ready. Music off, I want you all paying attention.” Kyle turned off the stereo just as Iron Maiden’s “Dance of Death” was starting. I controlled my complaintas Jeff shot me the hairy eyeball look. I’d been paying attention but decided now wasn’t the time to protest or demand musical accompaniment.
    “Kid, Christopher and I are going to take whoever’s coming, but just in case we get into more than we can handle, I want you heading the car down if you can get out safely, or to the roof if you can’t.”
    “Len and I can handle ourselves in a fight,” Kyle said.
    “I want you doing your jobs, and that’s driving and protecting Kitty and Jamie. Period.” Jeff wasn’t growling, but he was close.
    The boys chose not to argue. I knew they were smart.
    Mr. Joel Oliver cleared his throat. “Why don’t you simply ask the baby to get us safely home?”
    “Kitty was joking about what she said earlier,” Christopher said, sounding strained. Or maybe it was because they were hoping I hadn’t told Mr. Joel Oliver what he likely already knew.
    Oliver, who was sitting between Jeff and Christopher, gave me a small smile. “I know, Mister White. You can stop pretending.”
    “No idea what you mean,” Christopher said, while he looked at his hands.
    Oliver sighed. “I know you’re aliens. I know you have special…skills. Skills that humans don’t. Mister Reynolds is fully aware that I know he’s the head of the C.I.A.’s Extra-Terrestrial Division.” He looked sad. “No one believes me, mind you, but I know the truth.”
    “They print everything you write,” I pointed out.
    He shrugged. “They print it because it sells, but my editors don’t believe anything I submit. Most of our readers don’t either, and the few who do are, for the most part, crackpots, to put it charitably.”
    “That kind of sucks.”
    He chuckled. “Yes, it does. Then again, I get to do what I love, and I know the truth. Everyone can call me a crazed conspiracy theorist or whatever the insult of the day is. But knowledge is power.”
    I’d seen this same expression on Chuckie’s face all through school—it was a combination of determination, disappointment, hurt, and defiance. That look on Chuckie’s face had always made my heart hurt. It was somewhat unsurprising to discover I didn’t care for it on Oliver’s face, either.
    “Oh, no you don’t,” Jeff said to me.
    “I don’t what?”
    “You are not getting attached to him! Having Mister Joel Oliverhere in the limo is one thing. Thinking of him as your friend is another.”
    “I’m not your enemy, Ambassador Martini.”
    “Nothing you do helps us,” Jeff snapped.
    “Oh, on the contrary,” Pierre said. “He’s helping you far more than you realize.”
    “I beg your pardon?” Jeff shook his head. “How is what he writes a help?”
    Pierre sighed. “Really, it seems so obvious.” He looked around. “You lovely people are hiding in plain sight. Mister Joel is considered to be writing fiction by almost everyone. Therefore, if the man who routinely shares that Elvis is still walking amongst us also says that the dear people from American Centaurion are actually aliens living as our neighbors, what will the general populace think?”
    “That it’s a load of crap.” Pierre had a strong point. “In fact, the more MJO insists we’re not normal, the more likely it is that someone’s going to assume he just feels we insulted him in some way.”
    “Too much attention isn’t good,” Jeff protested. “Where there’s smoke,