Jasmine Wood remained calm for the rest of the car ride. She kept up her smile and good cheer as she answered a few questions and brought the probably-not-larpers to a large suite they kept in a facility for people who had to be removed from public – but in a good way! She pointed out the amenities – stifling a scream when she had to explain the toilet five goddamn times – and told them that she would return soon with some food. Her smile lasted until she heard the door click.
Then she turned, checked that the hallway was empty, and verbally assaulted Charles with such force that the back of his head cracked against the wall.
“What the hell Charles! I got kids! We’re never going home, not with these, these… these whoevers here! What am I gonna tell my sister? Do you know how much overtime this is gonna be?”
“I didn’t know! I swear! I thought it would be some larpers at worst!”
“They’re god-damned aliens, Charles! Aliens! With tentacle arms and snake heads!”
He held up his hands and made calming gestures as Jasmine waved her fingers around her head.
“Don’t you wave your hands at me, Charles! I will break every one of your fingers.”
He stopped and gave her one of his helpless, handsome smiles that always left her wanting to hug or hit him. Right now it was hit.
“Look,” he said quietly, “they’re not really aliens, not the space kind.”
“No shit,” she hissed. “I can tell they don’t look like no fightin’ plankton.”
“Phytoplankton, Jaz.”
“I will break you!”
“Agents.”
At the stern voice they both spun and straightened their backs.
“Director Barlow,” they said in unison.
A short woman stood in front of them, although her presence filled the hallway. Jasmine realized that her yelling had been so loud that she hadn’t even noticed the shorter woman approaching. She took a moment to focus her mind, calming herself. In the current circumstances she could forgive herself for losing control, but she couldn’t forgive herself for not getting her control back.
Jasmine would never disrespect a superior, but Director Barlow would have deserved respect even if she was in shorts and sandals with drinks in both hands. Not that Jasmine could imagine her dressed like that; her perfectly smooth pantsuit screamed stern professional.
“Agent Hettle, take out your eye screen,” the director commanded.
Charles rushed to comply, plucking the tiny screen from his right eye and slipping it into a small case.
“That em-shielded?” the directory asked.
“No, ma’am.”
“Give it to me, then.”
Charles handed the case over and she slipped it into a small box that she took from her pocket.
“Your wrist phones too,” she said, holding out the box.
The two agents complied, pulling the bands from their wrists and dropping them into the box. She snapped it shut with a satisfying click.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“We’re not trusting anything with this, not until we know how the Technis cult is infiltrating our facilities.”
Director Barlow nodded towards the room. “They’re in there? And their entry was discreet?”
“Yes ma’am,” Charles responded. “We had everyone empty the path from the parking garage, and the room is network isolated.”
“How many civilians saw them?”
“Two security guards from the Met, ma’am, and an unknown number saw the security footage.”
Barlow nodded and pursed her lips. “I’ve already planted a story about a group of techno-larpers with a surprisingly effective hacking AI. With all the other nonsense going around these days that should be enough to bury any attention after a few days.”
“You two know Bobby, from bio-forensics?”
“Yes ma’am,” Charles replied.
“He’s scraping every cell out of your car. That should help corroborate… well, God know what, but it will tell us something about our visitors. He’ll come down to talk to you directly. I’ll try to find some others to bring on as well, but until then I want at least one of you with our visitors at all times.”
Charles glanced at his partner. “Director, if this is some kind of weird first contact, then is someone else taking over the case?”
Director Barlow smiled, but her lips were squeezed tight. “Sorry, Agent Hettle. Given the severity of the security breaches involving the Technis cult, we made the decision to handle this matter offline as much as possible. Public trust never recovered from Cascadia, and now we’ve got an alien conspiracy?”
She shook her head. “No. As far as anyone knows, you’re still working the Hill kidnapping. Try to keep it that way.”
Jasmine twitched, but she kept her mouth shut. Barlow noticed anyway.
“I know you have a pair of young children, Agent. Under the pretext of possible reprisal from James Hill’s kidnappers, I’m going to have them brought to a nearby facility for safekeeping. I’ve given you both housing there as well, although you won’t be getting any time to enjoy it.”
Jasmine sighed with relief as some of the tension left her body. “Thank you ma’am.”
“Oh, don’t thank me,” the older woman said grimly. “You’ll be working so hard you may forget their names.”
Charles raised his hand. “Ma’am, what about my cat?”
“Yes, Agent Hettle, I will pick up Perkins myself.”
She held out a small briefcase and waited for Charles to take it. “Burner devices and single-use encryption sticks. Panic EMP buttons and AI outwitters. Pen and paper.”
She nodded at the door. “You go back in there and you squeeze those people for every last drip of information on the Technis cult. Find out whatever you can about that teleportation technology, especially how we can block it. Last, figure out what happened to General Hill’s nephew.”
She lifted her arm and looked at an old analog watch. “You’ve got four hours before the general’s aide arrives. The general’s schedule is less predictable, but you can bet he’ll come himself once he gets a whiff that this is real.”
“What?” Charles gaped. “I mean– sorry, ma’am, but four hours to debrief what could be years of information…”
Charles spread his arms and gave his boss a pathetic look. She shrugged.
“It is what it is, Charles.”
“Pardon me ma’am,” Jasmine interrupted, “but why bring the general here at all? Can’t we keep this information privileged?”
“We need help,” the director admitted. Her lips curled with disgust at the word.
“Once this gets out to the rest of the alphabet – and it will get out, no matter what we do – they’ll want a damn convention. The general has some pull, maybe even enough to keep things quiet while we get something done. If this is personal for him, maybe he’ll even hold off on the grandstanding long enough for us to do our jobs.”
She snorted. “Hell, maybe we’ll even find a way to finally locate this Technis guy and take him out. That sounds like a military operation, doesn’t it?”
She looked each of them in the eyes. “So play nice with him and his aide, got it? Forget World War III, this is some H. G. Wells type of shit.”
“Yes, ma’am!” they both agreed.
“Good. Now I’m going to go out and be distracting. Hopefully I’ll spread enough confusion that everyone forgets about the disturbance at the Met.”
“And get my cat, right?” Charles begged.
She nodded. “I’ll handle Perkins too. If you need anything, contact me directly. I’ll be staying away to avoid drawing more attention for now. Good luck.”
Director Barlow nodded, then crisply turned on her heel and walked down the empty hallway. Her boots clicked against the poured concrete floor, only fading after she turned the corner.
Jasmine turned to Charles and shook her head. “You actually named your cat ‘Perkins’? I hoped that was a bad nickname.”
Charles shrugged. “He purrs and he has bootikins. Purrkins.”
“You are a grown man, Charles. You should be ashamed.”
“Sorry, Jaz. You’ll have to teach me a lesson.”
She scoffed and smacked his shoulder. “Since you’re feelin’ so good, you can start askin’ the snake ladies about their stargate. I’m gonna order that pizza, call my sister, and get myself some damn coffee.”
“I’d love some coffee.”
Jasmine snorted as she walked away. “I’ll get you some ice water instead. You can use it to shrink your swelled head.”
