Alien in the Family

Of course, it looked a lot like a tiny kitten with really, really fluffy fur, only no ears and the eyes looked more like black buttons than cat’s eyes. And it had no tail. But otherwise, just like a fluffy kitten. Or a fluffy ball with tiny legs and paws. If it were a plush toy, it would be the hottest thing for Christmas with little girls. I wondered if Martini would get upset if I suggested we talk to Chuckie about starting a plush line and decided he would.

“No, not dangerous that we were told.” Unlike Security, Christopher had used the real hyperspeed to get to us. “Wow, Kitty, you’re dressed. I was getting used to the negligee look.”

“It’s an outfit. For wearing out to clubs.”

“You’re okay with her wandering around naked?” he asked Martini.

Martini shrugged. “I look at it as her using all the weapons at her disposal.”

“One flash and he’s a changed man.” Christopher laughed. “Fine, no argument from me. So, how’d we get the pet?”

“What’s it called?” I wanted an answer, since Tribble seemed out.

“My mother called it a Poof.”

I looked at them. “You’re kidding.”

“No.” Christopher had the grace to look embarrassed. “It’s a stupid name, at least by Earth standards, I know.”

Martini put the Poof into my hand. “Must be a girl’s pet.” He looked like someone had just tried to put hair bows and a tutu on him.

“I tackled a guy, remember?”

“What?” Christopher yelled. The Poof trembled.

“Uh, I think you’re scaring it.”

“Oh, great. Let’s get this thing back to its owner, shall we?” Martini turned to go, and the Poof leaped out of my hand.

“Jeff!”

The Poof landed on Martini’s shoulder as he was spi

“Why is this thing on me? Is it attacking and I just can’t tell?”

“Um . . . no.” I got a fu

“When she was little, yeah. I think it died or something. She didn’t bring it here.”

The Poof looked at me and closed its eyes. I listened. Yep. “It’s purring.”

“What?” Martini tried to look at the Poof by twisting his head, but it was so small, he really couldn’t see it. “Why is it purring?”

“Um . . . I think it thinks it’s yours.”

Christopher started to laugh.

“Christopher? Just guessing, but I’ll wager there’s one of these waiting for you, too. Paul and Michael and their sisters might have one, too. One each.”

Christopher stopped laughing. “What are you talking about?”

“Corgis.”

“What?” They both shouted. The Poof whimpered and tried to crawl under Martini’s collar.

“Get this thing off me!” He was doing the there’s-something-crawling-on-me dance. I tried not to laugh. Failed.

“Jeff, stop. It’s scared. Calm down, and it’ll calm down.” He did as requested and the Poof stopped trying to hide.

“What did you mean by corgis?” Christopher asked.

“The Queen of England has her corgis. I’m betting the A-C royal family has their Poofs.” Reader and I were going to have a field day with this when he was back up and ru

“Oh, my God. Kill me now, right now.” Martini sounded like he meant it.

“Let’s get upstairs and see if I’m right.” I tried to sound soothing. The snickers probably didn’t help.

“I’m remembering this for later,” Martini said darkly as I put the stuff back into my purse.

“Jeff . . . wait. You said there was something alien in my purse.”

“Oh, hell, right. This thing distracted me.” He grabbed my hand before I could touch the alien thing. “I think it’s a tracking device, but it’s not anything familiar to me.” He pulled out Chuckie’s alien-detector—the piece turned red.

It resembled a small feather or leaf, only it was thicker and seemed made out of a mass of fibers. They glowed, just a bit.

Realization dawned. “That’s why she kissed me.”

“Come again?”

“She kissed me to distract me and slip this into my purse. She said I wasn’t the target. But they knew they would find the target through me. That means Moira’s mate knows exactly where I am. Which also means she’s somewhere around here.”

Martini pulled out his phone and made some calls, with the Poof happily settled back on his shoulder. Christopher shook his head. “I can’t believe this. Any of this. Jeff can’t wander around with that thing on him—he looks like an idiot. I’m not wearing one, either. We’re the damned heads of Field and Imageering.”

“Not the Lords of the Dance? Are you sure?”

“I love you, but I may kill you.” Martini hung up, grabbed a washcloth, put it around Moira’s tracker, and put it in his pocket. “Let’s get upstairs and start the next round of torture.”

CHAPTER 27

WE DID A FAST CHECK BEFORE we left the level. Moira was still sleeping the sleep of the very drugged, and we still had a lot of A-Cs on Security duty around her cell and the drainage pipe entrance. I made Martini and Christopher test the guards for being real A-Cs. None of them asked Martini about the Poof but I could tell they all wanted to. So could he.

“I hate my life, have I mentioned that?” he asked as the three of us went up in the elevator. He kept his arm around my shoulders, which I didn’t mind at all, though it did make me wonder if his no-more-jealousy resolve was going to disappear fast.

“Could be worse. You could be the one whose brains were bashed in.” I was relieved I could say this calmly and without wanting to cry. Knowing Reader was going to be okay was a huge relief. I tried to remember the thing I knew I’d forgotten about all that. Couldn’t. Decided we had more pressing matters. “Maybe we can get a straight answer out of the emissaries as to what’s going on with Moira and the rest of the Free.”

“Can’t wait,” Martini muttered.

We arrived at one of the science floors. The holding cell was easy to find: It was surrounded by A-Cs, all of them talking quietly to each other, so the hum was pretty loud. One of the older Dazzlers saw us coming, and her mouth dropped open. “Jeff, how did you get that?”

“Unwillingly.”

Her eyes were wide. “Do you know what it is?”

He didn’t answer, so I did. “We think it’s a Poof.”

She nodded. “Yes. Only the royal family and their closest retainers are allowed to have them. They’re very rare.”

Martini winced. “Oh. Good. You know we live in America. No royalty here.” She nodded, but she didn’t seem convinced. We kept on moving.

Reached the holding cell to see a dozen people in it. The cell was really one of their big fishbowl conference rooms, adapted for security issues. The main difference was it had an individual intercom system attached to it.

The prisoners were dressed in what I called Renaissance Faire Spiffy. They looked like something out of that time period but not quite accurate. Seeing the men in hose and long, loose-fitting fancy shirts was interesting. I didn’t think I’d ever want to see Martini in the garb, but he would fill the hose out a lot better than the examples before me. The women were going for a similar look, only with a little Grecian Formula thrown in. It was as if they’d taken a look at our historical dress and tried to imitate it, with limited success.

All of the prisoners were decent-looking. Interestingly enough to me most were not as good looking as our Earth A-Cs. “So, the looks, for the most part, resided with your race?”

“I suppose. Maybe you’re just jaded.” Christopher sounded amused.

Martini laughed. “She’s used to looking at me. All others fade away.”

“True.” I squeezed his waist. “However, I’ve seen a lot of A-Cs, male and female, and while these are all attractive, they are not drop-dead gorgeous. Your father is, but these, not so much.”