Alien in the Family

stomach.”
    “Think?” Kevin asked.
    “The plots. Geez, guys, keep up. The mystery imageer spies who are bugging us and giving orders pretending to be Christopher, the laser light show, the so-called emissaries, our whacked-out Amazonian assassins, political intrigue in the A-C system—there’s clearly something bigger going on. We have less than twenty-four hours to figure out what. And, as I said, I think better on a full stomach.”
    I heard a sleepy mewling coming from my purse. “Oh, right. Can someone find out what the Poofs like to eat? I’m sure they’re starved.”
    Christopher called Alexander over, and my Poof concerns were explained. “Any meat should be fine.”
    “Alex, they’re from your world. What, I’m supposed to toss them a steak?”
    He shrugged. “Sure. Or some chicken. If it was once a living beast, they’ll eat it. They’re carnivorous.”
    “Okay. So, food for me and a dead cow for my Poofies. Should make the waiter’s night.”
    Chuckie shrugged. “The moment I realized this had turned into a party of epic proportions, I got the buffet going. Help yourselves.”
    “Chuckie, did you pay for this?” I didn’t want him to, and I knew without asking Martini wanted that even less than I did.
    Chuckie grinned. “Yes. Compliments of the C.I.A. You’re all operatives, and this is part of our cover.”
    “I like how he thinks,” Reader said with a laugh. “Come on, let’s get some food and try to help Kitty think right.”
    It was there, on the tip of my mind. “James,” I said as we shoved our way to the buffet, “what do you think’s going on?”
    “No idea.” He took a plate and passed another one to me. “God, I’m starving.”
    “Me too.” We worked our way through the buffet options. “What commonality is there in everything that’s going on?”
    “Girlfriend, you’re the brains of the operation, remember?”
    “No, you are too, and you know it. Does your head still hurt?”
    “Honestly? No. I feel great. I don’t even have a scar; your dad pointed that out.”
    I looked his head over. How could he not have a scar? His head had been bashed in. But he was right-he looked just fine. I wanted to worry about it, but there were bigger issues. “Chuckie says we have to find who has the most to gain or the most to lose.”
    “Earth has the most to lose.” Reader said this calmly, as he snagged some Chicken Kiev.
    “Why so?”
    “It’s our planet that’s being invaded. We don’t have long-range spaceflight that can guarantee us safe passage to another planet. The gate’s locked on the A-C side of the galaxy, so no way to get through there. Whatever’s happening, it’s happening here, and that sucks for us.”
    And there it was. Pretty much perfect clarity. “I know what’s going on.”
    “Uh-huh. Do you think that stuff’s safe to eat?”
    “Yes, it’s goulash. James, did you hear me?”
    “Yes, you know what’s going on. Fill the plate, sit down, eat what’s on the plate. Starving here, and I want to have the food, in you and in me and the others before you explain what’s really going on, because experience tells me the minute you do explain it, food and rest are a thing of the past.”
    “Fine.” Couldn’t argue, it was true.
    We finished loading the plates and squeezed in at a table. Happily, we could set our plates down. I put one of the three Chicken Kiev pieces I’d taken on the ground and put the Poofs down there to eat. From the purring, I assumed they liked it. By craning my neck I could see my mother’s table. Dad was there now, and Mom looked a lot better. I got a warm feeling inside—A-Cs weren’t the only ones who mated for life.
    Martini, Christopher, and Gower managed to shove in with us. I had to sit on Martini’s lap, but I didn’t mind. Everyone had brought extra for the Poofs, which was good because they were eating up a storm. Chuckie came by with a plate of raw chicken that also went under the table. He stood and ate.
    “I know what’s going on,” I told him as I stuffed in some cabbage rolls. Red Square had what I’d call “regular nice food,” too, but they could pull out the Russian and related specialties when they wanted to, and this meal was excellent proof.
    “Good.” Chuckie took my empty plate, wandered off, and came back with it filled up. With everything I liked. Martini muttered only a little bit.
    “No one seems to care that I know what’s going on.”
    “Baby, we’re all starving,