Alien vs. Alien

“You’re not prisoners. Our orders are to watch you with guns drawn, but you can keep your hands down.”
    “You know, this isn’t the most diplomatic way for us to meet your main dude.” Who, memory reminded me, Chuckie had said didn’t like him or us, which viewpoint Cliff had confirmed as being true.
    They both shrugged. “Orders are orders.”
    White climbed out, Bruno hopped out, and White helped me out. So far, no bullets had been fired, so I decided to buy the “we’re just being cautious” line. For now.
    We went in, the two guys from the Jeep behind us. A few feet inside the doorway another airman met us. This one was clearly an officer, and he was standing in that relaxed form of attention soldiers do to impress upon you that they’re both soldiers and, though relaxed, ready to gun you down if at all necessary. He had a gun, but it was in its holster.
    “Thank you,” he said to the guys from the Jeep. “I’ll take it from here.” They left, and he nodded to us. “Ambassador Katt-Martini and Former Pontifex White?”
    “Yes. Who are you?”
    He smiled at me. “Captain Morgan. Here to escort you in to see the Base Commander.”
    “No gun?”
    Morgan shrugged. “Things are a little . . . tense. If you would, follow me.” He turned and walked on, before we could ask questions, I could make rum jokes, or lift my leg up to the side.
    Morgan led us down a hallway. We made some turns and ended up at an office with “Base Commander” on the door. I didn’t have to ask who was behind the door. He escorted us inside.
    The office was fairly large and rather well appointed. Big desk, flags in stands, couch, chairs. All just a little sterile, but otherwise nice. I looked at the nameplate on the desk—it wasn’t the name I was expecting. Instead of Marvin Hamlin, who I’d been told only yesterday was the man in charge, the plate on the desk declared the man behind it to be Colonel Arthur Franklin. The name rang a bell, but I couldn’t place it.
    The man behind the desk stood up and nodded to Morgan. “Thank you, Gil. Please stay here, at ease.” He walked around the desk. “Missus Martini, no matter what you do, you do it with speed and style. I understand you’ve been having quite an eventful weekend. Hopefully it won’t be as exciting as your high school reunion ended up, but I can’t make any promises.”
    Recognition dawned. “You’re the Air Force colonel who showed up at the end of Operation Drug Addict!”
    He grinned. “Nice to be remembered. Your uncle asked me to ensure you were looking well.”
    “When did you talk to my Uncle Mort?”
    “Yesterday.” The smile left Franklin’s face. “I understand that you were the one who sent the reporter, Joel Oliver, to us?”
    I decided Oliver could insist that the military add the “Mister”—I wasn’t going to, at least not right now. Franklin didn’t look like he wanted to indulge civilian whims at this precise moment. “Yes. I’m sorry, but we’re in the middle of . . . something. And we needed him to get some attention focused away from us.” This sounded even lamer said aloud than it had in my head.
    Franklin didn’t seem to notice. Or care. He nodded. “Oliver said that you had news of an impending alien invasion.”
    “Right.” I wondered how best to apologize for wasting military focus on our diversionary tactics. Hoped the fact that something bad was going on and that we’d averted another Middle Eastern incident by rescuing Mona and her men would help.
    But I never got the chance to launch into what was likely to be my most amazingly confusing explanation yet, because Franklin and Morgan exchanged a very worried look. Then Franklin looked back to me. “Just one question.”
    “Okay.”
    “How do you know about it?”

    Yi

CHAPTER 60

    I RESISTED THE VERY STRONG URGE to share that I’d made it up based on “intel” from someone from Club 51. The expressions of the two military men in front of me indicated they weren’t laughing now and wouldn’t be laughing if I said “just kidding!” either.
    My father’s advice of answering an uncomfortable question with another question was, once again, my go-to reaction. “Not that I’m unhappy to see you here, Colonel Franklin, but why
are
you here? I was under the impression that the man in charge of Andrews was a Colonel Hamlin. As late as yesterday I was under that impression. So, what’s going on?”
    Franklin sighed. “We have no idea what’s