Alien vs. Alien

to go,” Khalid added.
    “We could get trapped on the stairs, too.”
    “We could. However, most of us have weapons with us, and from what we’ve seen, some of you appear to be living weapons. We have a far better chance of survival on the stairs than in an elevator.” The way Oren said this, I figured that the Mossad had done various tests and studies, or the U.S. had, and they were all confident the results were accurate.
    “He’s correct,” Franklin said.
    “Fine, not arguing with my military advisors.”
    “Missus Martini, you’re learning the diplomacy-speak so well.”
    “Mister White, be careful with the sarcasm or I’ll start calling you Rick again.”
    White chuckled. “I expect that within fifteen minutes, regardless of whether I use sarcasm or not.”
    “Good point.” I refrained from asking what attacks everyone was expecting. Better prepared for anything than caught unawares because we were prepped for nothing.
    We reached the bottom, finally, and Franklin led us down a long hallway with no doors at all except in the far distance.
    “Colonel, sorry to be asking and all, but this sure seems like a bunker to me.”
    “It is and it isn’t.” Franklin was great on the no information right now.
    “How secure is it should, say, someone bomb the base?”
    “Secure.”
    “So it’s a bunker.”
    “Not in the classic sense.”
    “I love that we’re already good enough friends that we can play verbal gymnastics while trying to thwart an alien invasion. Where, exactly, are we going?”
    “To one of the most classified, and secured, areas on base.”
    We reached the doors. They had the usual “Authorized Personnel Only” signs and a lot of security doohickeys to get past. While Franklin slid his badge through the reader, typed in a series of codes on the keypad, and pulled out his keys, I listened at the door.
    I could have sworn I heard the sounds of furniture being moved, quiet cursing, and similar. I’d have been worried, but it sounded familiar—I was pretty sure I’d sounded like this any time my parents had unexpectedly suggested they drop by for a visit when I lived in my old apartment. The A-C Elves ensured this scramble was a thing of my past, but I still remembered it vividly.
    Franklin opened the door and we were greeted to an interesting sight. It resembled the Centaurion Command Centers—lots of computers, lots of TV screens, lots of official looking stuff. Lots of sound, too, coming from what looked like radio equipment and funky EKG machines.
    But there were only a handful of guys in here, and none of them resembled military, let alone A-Cs. No uniforms, no neat and clean, no high and tights, no total hotness. Heavy emphasis on the no neat and clean, or at least not tidy. I wasn’t interested in doing a white glove test, but the clutter factor in here was scary high.
    Sniffed carefully. Someone had sprayed a ton of Febreeze around. Thankfully.
    I’d been right; they were frantically trying to straighten up. Franklin’s expression—barely controlled fury—told me they weren’t succeeding. However, I had to figure they hadn’t been hired for their military acumen or their ability to get a quarter to bounce on their beds.
    White was taking in the scene as well. “Colonel, as Missus Martini asked, where specifically are we, exactly?”
    Franklin didn’t need to answer—I already knew. “Gang, welcome to Hacker Central.”

    Yi

CHAPTER 68

    I TROTTED INSIDE, and there he was, furiously stacking old pizza boxes and Big Gulp cups. I did my best Columbia from
Rocky Horror
. “Eddy!” Long, squealing, and drawn out. Missed Chuckie—he’d have appreciated it and found it funny. No one else seemed to either get it or be impressed.
    Stryker turned and gaped. “Kitty? You, ah, got here really fast.”
    “Dude, we walked over from Headquarters and down an unreal number of steps. Not my fault you live like a pig. You know, like you always have.”
    I did a quick study. Still an average-size guy if you ignored the gut and man-boobs, still wearing a “The Truth is Out There” shirt that I hoped was a newer edition than the one I’d become familiar with when I was in high school and college. Full beard, and it was still fairly unkempt. Hair still worn long and sort of curly. Stryker would have had beautiful hair if he ever took care of it. That was Stryker’s only attractive physical quality, thoughր if I believed him, he was supposedly lovely with his pants off.