Alien Collective (51 page)

A
FTER MORE GREAT SEX,
we fell asleep wrapped around each other. The sounds of Oingo Boingo’s “The Winning Side” woke us up far too early. Sun-just-coming-up too early. However, duty called—it was time to test-drive iced sky blue as “my color.” Could not, literally, wait.

Had a fast shower wherein we didn’t even have time for sex, bitterly got dressed, and had a quick but nice breakfast with Jamie as Dad, Lucinda, and Alfred came over to watch her.

Normally, we’d have brought her, and our parents, and any other family members we could, to the convention, so we could all shake as many paws as possible and smile like crazed hyenas. Under the circumstances, Jeff had put his foot down as hard as possible and Jamie and everyone else who wasn’t me, Jeff, or Mom was staying home.

“You’re going to be great today, Kitty,” Alfred said with a twinkle. Jeff was a slightly taller, slightly buffer version of his father, complete with the charm and sense of humor.

“I hope so.”

“You will be,” Lucinda said with utter confidence as she kissed my cheek and took her eager granddaughter out of my arms. “You look so poised, beautiful, and professional. The other women will be jealous.”

“Love you for saying that. And look at how well you managed to lie, too.”

She chuckled. “Trust me, you look perfect for today.”

Dad hugged me. “They’re right, kitten. Just do your best and remember—when it comes down to it, you’re your mother’s daughter.” He kissed my forehead. “And you’re mine, too. We’re both so proud of you. Take a deep breath, and just let things happen as they will.”

Hugged him and the others. “Thanks. I’m just hoping we survive the event.”

Jamie handed her Poof to me again. “You need to take Mous-Mous, Mommy.”

Considered arguing, but what could it possibly hurt? And Jamie had felt so certain her Poof had helped the other day, why not humor her again? “Sure, Jamie-Kat. Thank you. Mous-Mous can tell you all about the convention.”

She nodded. “Yes. Be yourself, Mommy.”

Kissed her head. “I will. You and Fairy Godfather ACE can be sure of that.”

Jeff hugged everyone, while they told him how awesome he was and how he shouldn’t be nervous at all, and other parental rah-rah things. Then he kissed Jamie, took my hand, and we left.

As we walked to the elevators, I looked around. “Bruno my bird, what’s the avian word?”

Bruno appeared beside us. He squawked, bobbed his head, flapped his wings, and scratched the carpet.

“What’s he saying?” Jeff asked, in the tone of voice of a man who hopes no voters learn of his real home life.

“The Peregrines are sticking around the Embassy. They’re worried that the kids are too exposed with the rest of us going over today. They also want to keep an eye on Chernobog, just in case. Bruno’s worried about us going over without him, but says he’s briefed the K-9 dogs and feels that they’ll make reasonable stand-ins and a good Poof Support Team.”

“So how many Poofs are going?”

Bruno squawked and clawed the ground several times. “Huh. Most of them. There are about three Poofs to a person in the Embassy and Zoo, all the attached Poofs are with their people, and the rest of the unattached Poofs will be with us.”

“Oh. Good.” He didn’t sound like he thought it was all that good, but I chose to ignore it.

Gave Bruno a scritchy-scratch between his wings, and then we headed downstairs to the ballroom so Jeff and I could have our hair done and I could sit through makeup.

Pierre was in charge of doing all the hair and makeup for our delegation, and while he’d assigned some of Team Troubadour to assist with this, he insisted on doing me and Jeff himself, which was great with me.

Other than my wedding, I’d never really bothered with this elaborate process, but Raj had insisted and everyone had backed him up. So even the men were being carefully coiffed and groomed. The less said about the number of Patented Glares Christopher was shooting around while he was getting styled the better, but as Serene gently pointed out, everyone had looked great on TV, so it was time to man up and accept that hairspray was going to be used.

Finally, Pierre and his team had us all looking nothing short of fabulous. I’d been sprayed with the Dove Extra Hold hairspray so near and dear to my and Pierre’s hearts. He’d also sprayed me and some of the others with some sort of makeup hairspray thing that he insisted Hollywood types used all the time. And those riding with the K-9 dogs were all issued lint brushes and rollers. Thusly prepped, we all headed to the underground garage.

We literally had a fleet of limos taking our delegation over and back. Saw Burton Falk and the other guys on his team, so felt like Buchanan was watching us somehow, which made me feel a little better. I’d gotten used to knowing that he was out there, and it was unsettling now that he wasn’t.

Serene was going along today, and Christopher had taken pity on Mahin and insisted that if we got to go over finally, she got to go with us. Tito was also coming along, mostly because he said he was getting cabin fever, and Nurse Carter was in the Embassy to handle any medical emergencies.

Found out why I was denied green as “my color”—Amy was in an all-green ensemble and I realized she’d been in green every day of the convention. Chose not to be bitter. If one of your besties claims a color you wanted, you move on to other colors, that was my motto.

Jeff and I were in a limo with Gower, Reader, Raj, Officer Melville, and Prince, with Len and Kyle driving. D.C.P.D. had the protestors cleared back so we could get out of our garage and onto the highway without a lot of issues.

Kyle, proving why I loved him, immediately put on music. As the soothing sounds of Green Day’s “Wake Me Up When September Ends” hit my personal airwaves, the others ran through what I should be expecting. Well, other than Melville, who was literally looking everywhere as we drove, and Prince, who felt my only worries should be if I was petting him enough.

Fittingly, “Good Days Bad Days” by the Kaiser Chiefs came on. Because, basically, today was a lot like the other days. Minor dudes and dudettes getting to have their say, finalization of the party platform, which happily covered a lot of alien rights, marriage equality, immigration, a strong economic plan, and an even stronger defense plan that didn’t involve turning Centaurion into the War Division. Those of us kibitzing in front of the TV for the past three days had approved the party platform.

“Jeff doesn’t really get voted on,” Raj said by way of summation, as “You Can Do It” by No Doubt started. “These days it’s just assumed that whoever the presidential nominee wants is who he or she gets. But the VP decision affects the nomination process.”

“Yeah, after three intensive days in front of the TV, I actually think I know this stuff. The state’s roll call was supposed to be yesterday evening, but they’ve moved it to today because media coverage has been so good.”

“Yes. It’s the first thing going on. Expect to glad-hand a lot when we first get there, but Vincent has the bigger role here,” Raj said.

“Don’s doing the keynote,” Jeff reminded me. “Then it’s acceptance speeches. The order is going to be me, you, Elaine, then Vince.”

“I get why Elaine’s speaking, she’ll be the First Lady. But why do they want to hear from me?”

“It’s not unusual for the wife of the VP candidate to speak,” Raj said.

“They want to hear what you’re going to say,” Reader added. “We’ve held you back for a reason, Kitty.”

“To keep me from blowing it, I know.”

He shook his head. “No. You’re considered our loose cannon, yeah, but everyone’s heard the eulogy you did for Michael, and everyone knows that was done on the fly.” Fittingly, “Crazy Days” by Adam Gregory came on.

“Well, sane people know that,” Gower said dryly. “The crazy ones insist I planned to break down and have to be led away so you could amaze everyone with your oration skills.”

“Let’s focus on the sane people. Why do they want to hear me?”

“Because you gave an incredible speech, girlfriend. And there’s a lot of anticipation about what you’ll say today.”

“Is the nomination in the bag?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Jeff said. “Vince is the clear party frontrunner.”

“And they’re thrilled Jeff’s on the ticket,” Reader added. “Not that he’ll tell you himself. But he’s helped the ticket a lot.” He shot me the cover boy grin. “And you getting Jenkins under control has helped even more. The Tastemaker’s column yesterday was very good for us.”

“Haven’t read a thing, we’ve been too busy watching you guys on TV. What did it say?”

“Aliens good, those who oppose them bad.” Gower grinned. “Nice work, Ambassador.”

“It’s a gift.” Tried not to be nervous. I’d been a lot more relaxed when I’d thought everyone was worried about me blowing it. Now that I knew they had positive expectations, the pressure got that much higher. Wondered how fast I’d forget all the speeches that had been drilled into me.

Raj sighed. “I wish you’d done what I told you and not mentioned that to her. She’s nervous now, and she wasn’t before.”

“Sorry.” Reader took my hand in his. “Kitty, you’re going to be great, whether you remember all the speeches Raj wrote for you or not. You’re the best we have at winging it. It’ll all work out.”

“I’m more worried about being attacked.” Whoops. Hadn’t meant to blurt that out. Maybe it was because Agent Orange’s “Too Young To Die” had just hit our airwaves.

“Security is the best I’ve ever seen,” Melville said.

Prince barked. At me. “Yeah? Thanks.”

“What did he say?” Jeff asked for everyone.

“Prince would like to stay with me. As in, with me, the entire time. He feels he’ll keep me calmer and safer if he’s right there by my side. And I don’t think he’s wrong.”

“Say he’s her emotional assistance dog,” Reader said. “And it’ll fly without issue.”

“And give our enemies some fantastic ammunition,” Raj said, sarcasm knob heading toward eleven.

Melville shrugged. “I’m assigned to the Ambassador and congressman anyway. That won’t be an issue.” Prince whined. Melville petted his head. “Yes, you can stay with
her
, you traitor.” Prince flung himself against Melville to share that he still loved Melville best. Just barely, but still, best.

“Just for the record and officially, Prince is my favorite.”

Jeff sighed. “Beaten out by a dog. Such is my life.”

A
S “TAKE ON ME”
from A-Ha came on, we arrived. To see a massive number of protestors encircling the convention center, held back by the National Guard. Well, nice to make an entrance.

There wasn’t parking at the convention center itself, but it was near the Inner Harbor, meaning there were plenty of parking lots nearby. So the limos were letting our delegation out, then parking as a group. Field agents under Falk’s command would guard our fleet. Our drivers who were an active part of our delegation, like Len, Kyle, and the flyboys, would then come back to the convention center as a group, ensuring that none of them walked anywhere alone, important due to everything going on, but more important because of the protestors.

Chose to ignore the many shrieks, catcalls, and insults coming as soon as our limo doors opened. Why grace the Loon Patrol with a response?

Proving that the security inside wasn’t all I’d hoped it would be, though, we were ushered in via the Candidates’ Entrance, and we weren’t searched at all. This was good, because I’d insisted on taking my regular purse with me, and I had my Glock and several clips in it. Sure, I’d forgotten they were there until we walked in, and also sure, it was nice not to have my weapon taken away, but if I could bring in a Glock, what could someone else bring in?

Then again, maybe Mom knew we’d all be packing and wanted to ensure that we could. Chose to not worry about this any more. Succeeded only a little.

However, there were so many people here it was like being at the largest, most crowded Aerosmith concert ever, times ten. Decided that the biggest risk we all faced was being trampled to death, and also felt it was a real possibility. However, you could tell who had a K-9 dog with them—one step onto a paw resulted in a lot of loud barking and a little circle of space. I was graced with just such a circle and was even more grateful to have Prince along than I already had been.

Baltimore had a very nice convention center, and it was decorated like a patriot’s wet dream, some of which hadn’t been shown on TV. There were American flags everywhere, along with a lot of state flags up on the walls and being waved wildly by delegates. Yet more posters of Armstrong and Jeff, all telling everyone to vote for them. There were Armstrong ones, Martini ones, and Armstrong-Martini ones, where they’d put their separate campaign photos back to back. There was a riot of red, white and blue streamers, garlands, flag banners, and more all over the place. My blue blouse didn’t clash with the décor, which was nice.

The stage had a huge screen behind it, and there were giant screens throughout the area, ensuring that no one could miss the happenings onstage. There were cameras on the mezzanine level above us, and a stationary media console in front of the stage, about a hundred yards back. There were also cameramen roving on the floor, and several on the stage as well. Pretty much anything that was happening, someone was going to film it and toss it up onto those jumbo screens and to the television networks.

American Centaurion, while also being its own principality, was also a US territory. I’d stopped trying to figure out the intricacies ages ago. However, what it meant was that we had a vote. And I was the one who was designated to cast it.

This meant that one of my speeches was about how awesome American Centaurion was, and how much we loved the nominees, as well as sharing our delegation’s vote count. This process went in alphabetical order, so Alabama was first and Wyoming was last. And American Centaurion was, therefore, going third, after Alaska and before American Samoa. So absolutely when everyone was still paying attention to the speeches.

But no pressure.

It was so packed, even in the staging area, and Jeff and I had to shake so many eager hands along the way, that by the time we reached the spot where we needed to be in order for me to get in place to go on, Alabama’s head delegate had already finished and Alaska’s was on the stage. Tried not to let the butterflies in my stomach get to me.

Jeff had his arm around my waist. “You’ll do great, baby,” he said in my ear. I was too stressed to find this arousing. That did it—I was officially far too worried.

“Don’t argue,” I said, as I pulled my iPod and earbuds out of my purse. Took off my jacket, clipped the iPod to the top of my skirt, and ran the earbuds up my back and under my blouse’s collar with Jeff’s help. Ignored the looks of horror Raj, Reader, and Gower were all shooting at me. Put my jacket back on, shoved the earbuds into my ears, and hit play. The soothing sounds of “Breathe” by The Prodigy hit my ears, and I relaxed.

Happily, Alaska’s dude wanted to talk a lot, so I had plenty of time to run my speech over and over in my mind. In fact, I got to hear “All That Money Wants” by the Psychedelic Furs, “Keep It Together” by Puddle of Mudd, and “God Is On The Radio” from Queens Of The Stone Age before Alaska finally shut it down, said they, like Alabama, were giving all their votes to Armstrong-Martini, and got off the stage.

Jeff gave me one last squeeze. “Knock ’em dead, baby.” I pulled my earbuds out, tucking them under my jacket, though I left my iPod on. Figured I’d need to listen to music again the second I was off the stage. Then it was time for me to trot out for the first part of my dog and pony show.

The main floor of the convention center was, as all main convention center halls are, gigantic. We were in the space normally reserved for the exhibit hall, but they’d set this up really well, with a ton of bleachers and a giant stage, as well as open floor space between the bleachers and the stage, with only the stationary media area blocking anything.

The entire area was packed to the gills with people. As I looked around, it appeared to be filled to the standing room only, no space between anyone level. People were trying to climb onto the media station, though they were immediately pulled down by security. It really was like a concert—some people from various areas were shoving forward to get closer to the stage, some politely, some rather rudely.

Cleared my throat, took that deep breath I’d been advised to take, and stepped up to the microphone. The room quieted down. Not that this meant it was silent—there were too many people for it to be still. But the sound dropped from a loud roar to a quiet hum.

“Fellow delegates and patriots, those of us from American Centaurion are pleased to be joining you at this historic time.” So far, so good. I had the first sentence out, and out correctly. “In our time as part of this great country, we’ve faced trials and tribulations, just as all of you have. But, like the rest of you, we’ve come through them better and stronger.”

This earned me a smattering of applause, which was pleasant. The people shoving forward were near to the stage now. As I opened my mouth to deliver my next line, one of them shouted. “Murderers!”

Closed my mouth and took a look at who’d spoken. Because I’d heard that clearly, and there was no way that someone who wasn’t using a microphone—or had troubadour talent of some kind—could have been heard.

Sure enough, I recognized her. She was the woman who’d accused me of murdering Reid and others when we’d left the White House. And she didn’t have a microphone in her hand.

Saw some of our security team moving toward her, so I forged on. “Over the decades we’ve worked closely to ensure a better life for all citizens.”

“Other than the ones you’ve murdered in cold blood,” the same woman shouted. I could tell her voice was carrying because people too far away to have heard her normally were shifting uneasily, murmuring to themselves, and so forth.

“So we’re incredibly proud that one of our own has been deemed worthy to lead more than just the Second Congressional District of New Mexico and our own people, but also to stand with Senator Vincent Armstrong as part of the team that will lead all of us into the future.”

“If we have a future!” This chick was really getting on my nerves and hashing my speech-giving buzz. And I could tell most of the room was hearing her.

Looked right at her. “You know, if you’re a delegate, you get to talk. If you’re not, save it for later.”

“You won’t have a later,” she snarled. And then, true to my expectations, all hell broke loose.