Touched by an Alien

Monitoring Yates.”
    “So Jeff didn’t run to a gate to get to the airport to get to me.”
    “No, he ran from here. It’s farther, actually.”
    “Awww, I’m touched, and I wasn’t mad, just clarifying.”
    “I need to check a couple of things,” Christopher said, as he let go of my hand.
    “Do I get to watch?”
    “Sure. I’ll warn you if I have to talk at regular A-C speeds.” We went to a set of consoles and monitors that sat in front of some huge screens, similar to the conference table from the debriefing session, only these screens were on the walls. As there had been in the Field command center room back at the Science Center, there were images from all over the world. Unlike the Field stuff I’d seen, these all seemed random—I didn’t spot any superbeings in any of the shots. Some were news feeds, some were streaming video, some seemed to be from cell phones. A variety of the images would show up on the consoles, where some A-Cs were sitting, looking intent.
    “How do you get all of this?”
    “We created your satellite and cell phone technology,” Christopher replied absently. “We have a constant wiretap going.”
    “I feel so Watergate.”
    “We’re really only looking for parasites and superbeing activity.”
    “Where’s Yates?”
    “Reports place him in Saudi Arabia, visiting a Saudi prince,” one of the A-Cs nearest us replied. At least Yates wasn’t nearby this time when his goons tried to kill me. One small favor.
    “Who’s the lead empath on duty?” Christopher asked.
    An A-C who looked about twenty-two came over. “I am, Commander. I have some areas identified. However, the emotional signals are weak.”
    He and Christopher stood next to each other, with a monitor each. The empathic A-C had a stream of images scroll through on the large screens. “Stop.” Christopher pointed to a screen that showed bombed out squalor. “There. Send that to me.”
    “Commander?” one of the other A-Cs asked. “There’s nothing living there.” However, the image of nothing there showed up on the monitor in front of Christopher. He put his hands on the monitor. “Hot spot. Send a team, now.”
    The lead empath put his hand over Christopher’s. “Confirmed.”
    “How can you tell?” It still looked like nothing to me.
    “There’s a parasite here,” Christopher answered. “You’ve seen them; they’re hard to spot.”
    “I thought the parasites aimed for a mammal of some kind.”
    “It has.” He pointed. An ancient Jeep rolled into view, one passenger.
    “He doesn’t look angry.”
    Christopher put his hand on the man in the Jeep, and the empath did the go team move as well. “He’s leading a terrorist cell. Not part of Al Dejahl, just one of many random factions out there.”
    “And he’s joyously happy while filled with rage at the same time,” the empath added.
    “Why didn’t the parasite aim for him?”
    Christopher shrugged. “It was probably aiming for someone in this village.” He looked at me. “They were all killed about an hour ago.”
    “I don’t want to know.”
    “Good, because I’m sure it’s classified.”
    I saw two A-Cs appear out of nowhere on the screen. “How did they get there?”
    “We have floater gates, remember? Allows us to arrive anywhere.”
    “How do they work? And why don’t you use them all the time instead of the stationary gates?”
    He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “You want the full scientific explanation?”
    “Not so much, no.” I looked back at the monitor. The A-Cs were clearly searching for the parasite. One of them jerked and pulled the other out of the way of the man in the Jeep, who started shooting at them. “How did he know to do that?”
    “All field teams are empath and imageer units. We try to never send an agent out alone.”
    The agents weren’t shooting back. “I know you guys are pacifistic, but why aren’t they trying to protect themselves?”
    “We’re here to protect humanity, not kill it.”
    “Even when it tries to kill you?” The Jeep stopped, and the man got out. He was carrying a machine gun. The agents were trying to stay out of his range while still searching for the parasite. “You know, wearing black Armani suits and white shirts, complete with tie and dress shoes, while fighting parasites in far-flung, foreign locales, seems sort of … stupid.”
    “We wear what we wear. If he lives, he won’t remember what happened.”
    “But he’s intimately