Alien Tango

ask?”
    “He’s never here alone.” Alfred chuckled. “There are a variety of subcommittees whose work affects or is affected by what we do here. Those committee members come for arranged visits. It’s a formal, and standard, process.”
    “How often?”
    Alfred shrugged. “Probably twice a year. Sometimes more, depending on what’s going on. Sometimes we have several visits in a row, because different subcommittees are here and they all have different and not always interrelated questions.”
    “How many people know you’re all here?”
    “Not as many as it seems.”
    “It seems like everyone.”
    Alfred shook his head. “The politicians don’t all know that we’re . . . different. American Centaurion is considered a U.S. territory, if you will, similar to Puerto Rico. That’s how most know us.”
    “Layers of security and need-to-know,” Martini added. “Ranked like all other Military Intelligence. I know you have briefing papers about it. You got them the day you were confirmed as the Head of Airborne.”
    Reader snorted. “Jeff, you seriously think she ever read them? I’d bet cash money she didn’t even look at them. I’d bet more money she dumped them somewhere, probably in my room with a note saying, ‘Give me the high level view.’ I’ll look when we’re finally home.”
    I shot Reader my most derisive look. He didn’t seem fazed. “I’ve looked at them.” Briefly. They were long and boring, from the little I’d skimmed. “And I didn’t give them to you, James.” I even knew where they were. Bottom right dresser drawer in my bedroom in the Lair. All neatly stacked and waiting for me to have the time, and interest, to send myself to Civics: American Centaurion class. So far, I was missing all the lectures, but I planned to cram and ace the final somehow.
    Decided I didn’t want Martini fully aware that I hadn’t read anything and so was, by A-C standards, asking stupid questions. “So, Alfred, does Reid come every time?”
    “Yes. He’s involved in many of the subcommittees that have an interest in us. Not all of them, mind you.”
    “How many years?”
    Alfred pursed his lips. “Oh, call it ten or twelve.”
    “Has Turco been around that long?”
    “No. He came on sometime after Representative Reid started visiting. I doubt the Representative is involved. He’s not the only politician who’s here on a regular basis. We have some Congressmen and -women who are here even more than Representative Reid. And I doubt any of them are trying to harm us or what we’re doing here.”
    I managed to hold the snide comment in. This was Martini’s father, after all. Plus, the A-Cs weren’t really trained to look at humans as their enemies—even when they were. In the past few months, I’d come to realize the view the majority of A-Cs held was that they were here to protect and defend the Earth from the parasites, and if they could help in other ways, well then they were going to. They felt they owed it to their adopted homeland, even the purists who still hoped to go back to Alpha Centauri one day.
    Despite having to deal with Earth governments and all the related bureaus and divisions those dragged with them, the A-Cs seemed remarkably naïve when it came to how low down and dirty humans could be. Maybe it was because they seemed unable to lie that they believed humans were the same way.
    But we weren’t, and I knew in my gut that whoever was behind Plan A was a human. The question of the moment was whether Turco was in on whatever was going down or if he was being manipulated. It was hard to judge with limited time with him, and I didn’t want my personal dislike to cloud my judgment.
    Then again, Martini felt my female intuition was normally right, and my mother felt listening to my gut was better in some cases than rational thought. My gut really wanted to kick Turco’s face in.
    We reached the others outside of quarantine before I could come up with a decision on what Turco’s game was. We brought everyone up to speed on the bodies and my current theories. Thankfully, Gower was on my side. “I don’t think Plan B’s in effect yet,” he said. “I’d guess the threat was the start.”
    “I’ll stay alert.” The threat to the A-Cs seemed a lot better planned and certainly more focused on effective mayhem. “Let’s go see the astronauts.”
    “We can’t all go in there,” Alfred said. “They’re under quarantine for a reason. You can monitor them from