Touched by an Alien

was also wearing a black cap that had the letters P.T.C.U. on it.
    “Who the hell are you, lady?” the man holding me asked.
    Mom stalked up to him. “I happen to be the head of the Presidential Terrorism Control Unit, and unless you put this young lady down, you will be the head of janitorial services in Nome, Alaska, by tomorrow morning.” She stuck her badge right up in his face. Her gun was somehow at his head, too. I was overwhelmingly impressed. I wondered if she’d teach me how to do this.
    I was dropped to the ground, and I managed to land somewhat on my feet.
    “You don’t have authority here,” the other man who’d grabbed me started to protest.
    Mom smiled, and it was the most intimidating thing I’d ever seen. I studied it—a smile like this would come in handy. “You don’t think I have the authority? No problem. Call the White House and ask about my authority. You’ll need to speak directly to the President, of course. Let’s see … think he’ll take your call or mine?”
    “We’re C.I.A. We have authority here.”
    “Actually, this is NASA’s jurisdiction,” my father’s voice came from behind us. “We have a joint agreement with the Centaurion Division, and you’re in violation of every code we have. Additionally,” he added pleasantly, “since your department answers to the P.T.C.U., not the other way around, you have no authority whatsoever in this situation.” Dad moved up next to Mom and looked around. “And my, my, my … we certainly have a situation here. Oh, let the men who aren’t hurt up, and, please, someone make sure our friends at the C.I.A. aren’t taking Commander Martini off somewhere we wouldn’t like him to be.”
    I’d seen where they’d shoved his gurney, and I took off running. To find Claudia, Lorraine, and two good-looking guys in uniform blocking the gurney from being taken out of the building.
    I skidded to a stop. “P.T.C.U. has authority here. Get your goddamned hands off of him, or I’ll break your necks.”
    The three people trying to kidnap Martini glared at me, but they backed away. I didn’t have to turn around to know there were guns pointed at them.
    “We’re somewhat pacifistic,” White said from behind me. “But we’re getting quite angry, and it’s amazing how anger clouds judgment.”
    Lorraine and Claudia moved to Martini now. “We need to get him to medical, stat,” Lorraine said. She looked at their pilots. “Can you come with us for protection?”
    “Absolutely,” the one I assumed was her guy said with a smile. “You’re our top priority, according to our orders.” He looked over at the C.I.A. team. “And our orders overrule yours, cowboys.”
    I wasn’t sure if I should go with them or not. Martini grabbed my hand. “Stay here and sort it out. That’s what the leader does.”
    I bit my lip. “Jeff, are you going to be okay?”
    He managed a weak smile. “Sure. I told you, happens all the time.”
    I didn’t even have to look at the girls to know he was lying. “Okay, I’ll be down to see you as soon as I can.”
    He closed his eyes. “See you in about twelve hours, baby.”
    Claudia nodded. “We have to go, Kitty. Now.”
    “Okay, call on the walkie if anyone else tries to kidnap any of you.”
    They nodded and raced off. I could see the elevator banks off in the distance, but they didn’t look like the ones at the Science Center. I turned around. Yep, there were a lot of guns being pointed. I decided getting behind them would be a really intelligent idea.
    “We’re at Home Base?” I asked White as I slid around him.
    “Yes, we needed to call in too much military.”
    “Where did they take James and Christopher?”
    “We have James back in our control; he’s headed to the hospital wing. Christopher insists that he and Tim are fine, so they’re still here.”
    Someone tapped my shoulder. “Need you back here,” Christopher said as he pulled me away.
    We got away from the crush of bodies. “Are they going back to the Science Center?”
    “Yes, it’s safer there, by a long shot. I sent Tim along to look after James, just in case.” He looked at me intently. “How did you know? That the car was rigged, I mean?”
    “Yates is a terrorist, and car bombs are to terrorists like groupies are to rock and roll—you rarely get one without the other.”
    “How’d he put it on?” Christopher looked worried. I didn’t blame him.
    “Someone planted it.”
    Christopher looked around and