Alien in the Family

speaking. “Wow, um . . . I hate this.”
    Chuckie put his arm around my waist. Both sets of Martini eyes narrowed. “Huh, that didn’t work.” He took his arm away.
    “Oh. Duh.” I went to the fridge and pulled out two sodas. I threw both of them at the heads. The Martini on the right dodged and caught the can. The one on the left just put up his hand and caught the can. “Jeff’s on the right, Christopher’s on the left.”
    The one on the left turned back into Christopher. “Good plan.”
    “Only works because I know you’re shorter than Jeff. Look, what this is proving is that whoever’s out there can imitate whoever the hell they want to, at least for a short while. And in a crisis situation, a short while will be all they need.”
    Christopher disappeared and Reader was there. “Yeah, but I can’t sound like anyone else.” It was Christopher’s voice coming out of Reader’s mouth.
    “That is beyond freaky. Please stop now.”
    Christopher was back, grinning. “Okay. By the way, it’s really draining. I’m pretty much ready for a nap now.”
    “Really?”
    “Manipulating an existing image is one thing—I can do that for hours and not get tired. Drawing an image on the air is another. It’s harder and requires total concentration to create and keep it there. Creating a three-dimensional image that has to move and function like a living being? That’s hard as hell. I don’t want to do it again today, for example. I could if our lives depended on it, but I don’t want to discover what that adrenaline shot to the hearts feels like.”
    My stomach clenched. “It would make you that tired?”
    The real Martini stepped in between Chuckie and me and started to massage my neck. “Relax. He’s fine.” I saw him shoot Christopher a look.
    “Yeah, just being dramatic,” Christopher said quickly, as his eyes looked anywhere but at mine.
    Lorraine didn’t buy it either. She came over, grabbed Christopher’s arm, and dragged him off into Chuckie’s bedroom. “Claudia, med kit, please.” Claudia went in with her.
    I could hear Christopher protesting that he was fine. “OUCH! Stop doing that!” He didn’t like it, whatever it was.
    “Think they’re harpooning him?”
    “No. He wouldn’t be coherent.” Martini sighed. “They’re just giving him some rejuvenating fluids. They hurt, they’re just not agonizing.”
    My throat felt tight again. I had to harpoon Martini on a regular basis. I knew it was horrible, for him and for me, but I hated hearing that it was the agony I’d always suspected it was and that he remembered how much it hurt.
    He hugged me. “Stop. I’d rather be alive.”
    “Me, too,” Chuckie said. “And it’s starting to sound like we may have a challenge achieving that.”
    “Good point. What was the goal of pulling Imageering away from Field?”
    Martini shook his head. “No idea.”
    “Disruption. Ability to put rogue agents in place. Ability to murder Field agents or leave them exposed.” Chuckie was saying these things as if he were making a shopping list. “Destabilizes existing structure. Creates lack of faith in leadership. I could go on, but I think you get the idea.”
    “So, what is it they want? I mean, is this going to turn out to be the usual, where there are at least two plans going on at the same time? You know, one where we have a psycho in charge and the other where we have a total megalomaniac running the show?”
    “Could be,” Martini said. “My vote’s for megalomania, of course. You don’t show up on another world by choice unless you have a reason. We’re handling the good reason. That only leaves a bad reason for anyone else from the home world to make an appearance.”
    “Yeah, but why are they doing all this? Are they hoping to replace you or White with a double?” Chuckie had his conspiracy hat on, I could tell by his voice.
    “I’d notice if someone impersonated Jeff.”
    “In time?” Chuckie shrugged. “Maybe. But in time for what? To not marry an imposter? To save his life?” He jerked his head toward Martini. “To save the world? Can’t say. We don’t know enough yet.”
    “Maybe we’ll get more when my parents arrive,” Martini said. “And, if not, we’ll have the fun of my mother complaining about how far behind we are with the wedding preparations. So, you know, a good time should be had by all.”

CHAPTER 16

    ROOMS WERE ASSIGNED, luggage was handed out, and people settled in. Martini and I