Alien Tango

the medical observation lab.”
    “Can we talk to them from there?”
    “Not usually.” Alfred looked uncomfortable. “It’s for observation. We can listen in from the lab, but they can’t hear us. They have terminals they can use to type requests and so forth with.”
    “What are they saying or requesting?”
    “They’re saying nothing’s wrong and are requesting to leave quarantine.”
    “Are they sick?” I hoped not; we were talking about Gower’s brother.
    “Not that we can tell, and they say they feel normal. But we identified a living entity that hit and entered the ship, and we can’t find it now.”
    “We’re all trained to kill superbeings.” I felt I was stating the obvious, but who knew what Alfred really thought we did all day.
    “None of them have manifested.” Alfred sounded like I was testing his patience. Well, he wouldn’t be the first man, A-C, or Martini I’d done that to.
    “Maybe they’re lying in wait.”
    “Maybe you should go to the lab and observe.”
    “Isn’t someone in there, observing right now?”
    Alfred sighed. “No. You insisted on everyone being herded into one place. That included the observation team.”
    Good point. “Everyone other than the astronauts.”
    He nodded. “Yes, they’re still in quarantine. Because we don’t know what’s going on.” Alfred indicated another hallway. “Let’s go to the lab.”
    I looked pointedly at the door in front of us. It said “Quarantine.” “Let’s go in here instead and observe them in person.”
    “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Alfred said sternly. Really, it wasn’t intimidating. The Pontifex tried stern on me all the time, so did Martini and Christopher, with limited to no results. The only one who successfully pulled off stern with consequences was my mother. And I knew she’d tell me to go through that door.
    “Dad, accept that Kitty’s going in there and save us all some pain.” Martini had his Commander voice on. “Paul’s going too. So are Christopher and I. And, before the protests start, guess what? We’re in a Field situation.”
    Alfred gave Martini a long look. “Pulling rank, son?” “I don’t have to pull it.”
    Alfred nodded slowly. “True enough.” He unlocked the door. “You know you’re at risk for whatever they have?”
    “We’re at risk every damn day.” Martini sounded bored. “You want us wearing gas masks?”
    “No, I suppose not.” Alfred sighed. “We’ll monitor you from the observation lab. Just be careful. We really have no idea if anything’s wrong or not.”
    “At this point, we don’t know if they’re alive, either.” I had to say it. “It’s a great way to get rid of someone—throw them into quarantine, and then you can kill them while everyone else is running the other way.” Everyone stared at me. “What?”
    “Why would you think someone wants to kill the astronauts?” Gower asked.
    “Why did someone kill Karl Smith? Or the presumed cleaning lady? Or try to blow you all to smithereens? I have no freaking idea. The only answer I have is that the lunatics from Club 51 did their best to ensure we’d blow up before we got here. Otherwise, all we have to go on is Smith’s warning, which was that every A-C was in mortal peril and Centaurion Division as a whole was in jeopardy. Since I know we have an A-C in quarantine, I just sort of figure that he’s in as much danger as everyone else.”
    “I hate it when you point out things like this,” Martini said.
    “Why?”
    “Because you’re so frequently right.”

CHAPTER 29
    THE FOUR OF US WALKED down the long corridor Alfred had told us led to the main quarantine area. The men were walking so quickly I almost had to trot to keep up. Not that I could blame them.
    The astronauts were in different, but adjacent, cells. Each door had thick glass on the top, presumably so observation would be easy. We got to Michael Gower’s first. He was a slightly smaller version of his older brother and looked bored out of his mind when we reached his door.
    Gower hit the intercom. “Michael, are you okay?”
    Michael looked over and gave Gower a huge smile. “Paul! Man, am I glad to see you.” He came over to the door. “Hey, Christopher, Jeff. And . . . who’s this?” His voice dropped down a bit and I got a different smile. I got the distinct impression that, unlike his older brother, Michael was not gay in any way.
    “Katherine Katt,” Gower said. “She goes by