Alien in the House

me.”
    “Yes,” Caroline managed, right before she burst into tears. Michael stood up and kissed her, among cheers and congratulations. “Everybody Loves a Happy Ending” by Tears for Fears came on our Embassy Airwaves.
    Jeff sighed happily. “Nice to see them both settle down.”
    “Did you know this was coming?”
    “Amazingly, yes, because neither one of them is sporting an emotional blocker or overlay. Had to tell Michael to hold off until the reception—he was revved up and ready to propose at Jamie’s party.”
    “This was better.”
    Jeff hugged me. “I agree. This is the best, though.” Then he kissed me. And, as with so many things, he was right.

Coming in December 2013:
    the eighth novel in the
Alien
series
    from Gini Koch
    ALIEN RESEARCH

    Read on for a sneak preview

 
    “A MBASSADOR, would you please tell the Committee your full name?”
    “Katherine Sarah Katt Martini.”
    “Do you know the whereabouts of one Herbert Gaultier?”
    “No.” My bet was Hell, but the Committee probably didn’t want to hear that.
    “Do you know if he’s alive or dead?”
    I hesitated. I was under oath. “I think he’s dead.”
    “Do you?” The senator in charge of the hearing leaned forward. “Is that because you killed him?”
    “No. I didn’t kill him.” Christopher White had killed him. But he’d had to.
    “What about Leventhal Reid?”
    “Nope, didn’t kill him, either.” My husband, Jeff, had killed Reid. To save my life.
    “LaRue Demorte Gaultier—did you kill her?”
    “No. Esteban Cantu killed her.” Accidentally, of course, but that one wasn’t on me. “Then he was arrested. And I didn’t kill him, either.” Other bad guys had killed him, before we could get information from him.
    “John Cooper?”
    “Nope, didn’t do him in, either.” Charles Reynolds had killed Cooper. Again, in self-defense, defending me and himself.
    “Ronaldo Al Dejahl, who killed him?”
    “Um, everybody and nobody. Because my bet is that he’s still alive. But lots of us have tried to kill him, and you should be grateful.” James Reader had used the first guy we thought was Ronaldo for a body shield, Jeff had beaten up the real one, but he’d escaped, and my bet was he’d survived the beat down he’d gotten during Operation Destruction, too, and was out there somewhere, waiting to strike.
    The Committee didn’t seem impressed. I didn’t look around, but the room was huge and it seemed filled to capacity with a blur of official looking people in politically fashion-forward suits, all of whom were giving me the Frowny Face of Displeasure.
    “The entire former American Centaurion Diplomatic Corps?” the senator in charge went on. “What about them? And Howard Taft? Antony Marling and Madeline Cartwright? Ronald Yates? And Beverly, that woman who had the most boring speaking voice in the world. Did you kill all of them and many others, including Gregory from Alpha Four, and Uma from Alpha Six, and the Mephistopheles in-control superbeing?”
    Now, these were not so easy to not lie under oath about.
    “Yes, sort of, well, yes, really in the case of Beverly and a bunch of the others. I didn’t do Gregory in, though.” Tito Hernandez had done that. “I took out Moira from Beta Twelve, though.” Jeff had handled her mate, Kyrellis. Just barely, but he’d managed it. “They were all evil and trying to destroy everyone good and the Earth. By the way, how did you know Beverly was Miz Monotone?”
    The Committee looked at me derisively. “We’re in your dream,” the senator in charge said. “And we agree that whoever thought it was a good idea for you to be in such a public position was an idiot.”
    “Can we sentence her yet?” one of the other Committee members asked. “Or at least ruin her husband’s budding political career?” The rest of the Committee nodded eagerly. They were all over the idea of disgracing Representative Martini.
    “Can I wake up now?”
    “Do you want to?” the senator in charge asked.
    “Am I hanging out with a Congressional Grand Jury when I wake up?”
    “Not as far as any of us know. Today. Tomorrow? Who knows?”
    “That’s the story of my life. By the way, as far as dream men go, none of you are what I’d like to have the next time I have a horrible nightmare.”
    “Who would you prefer?” the senator in charge asked.
    “Billy Zane would be a good option, he doesn’t get nearly enough work. Hugh Jackman. Chris Evans, really, anyone who