Universal Alien (33 page)

“A
ND,
as a sort of side benefit, you, Alfred, can see where your counterpart lives.”

“If you say so.” Alfred didn't sound convinced. “We can get to Florida fairly quickly, though, so it's worth it to look.”

“I don't know that I can handle the hyperspeed that long, sir, and trooper though he is, I doubt the cat can, either.”

“Oh, we're not going to be running,” Alfred said. He stood. “However, you two should eat something before we go.”

“I could probably find the will to force something down,” I admitted.

Cox nodded. “I have nothing in my stomach and am finally at a point where eating doesn't sound horrible.”

Alfred whipped up a rather nice couple of sandwiches using hyperspeed, and provided more food for Stripes and Harlie as well. Cox, the animals, and I all munched while Alfred bustled about, muttering to himself.

“You should eat, too, sir,” Cox said.

“Oh, I already did. Hyperspeed, son, it's good for everything.”

“You know, Alfred, the A-Cs on my world have to be taught from birth how to do things at human speeds. How did you learn?”

“Necessity is the mother of invention, Kitty.”

“And panic is the father of ability. Yeah, right there with you.”

“Is everyone done eating?” Nods and purrs to the affirmative were given. “Excellent. And now that you've eaten, both you and Stripes shouldn't have any issues with hyperspeed for at least a week, William.”

“How so? I tossed an entire day's worth of food up when Kitty showed me what she could do earlier.”

“I've created a powder that allows mammals to deal with supersonic speeds without issue. Originally created for NASA and various high-speed sports. I gave some to Kitty, too, because we're going to be going at supersonic speeds. You all just ingested it with your food, and don't worry, there are no side effects.”

“I remain incredibly impressed.” Tito had created Hyperspeed Dramamine on my world, it made sense that Alfred had done the same here.

“It's always nice to be appreciated. Now, let's get going.” He handed me and Cox a set of facemasks each. They were similar to gas masks, but a lot less creepy. “Put those on, they'll protect your eyes and let you breathe normally.” He produced similar for Stripes, who obliged and allowed the contraption to be affixed to his head. “Good kitty,” Alfred said. “Such a brave boy.”

“You have masks for cats just lying about?”

“Oh no,” he said with a chuckle. “I put this one together while you were eating. Hyperspeed, you know.”

I hadn't really noticed, but then I'd been focused on eating, so Alfred could have put an elephant together and I'd have missed it. “Gotcha. Doesn't Harlie need a mask?” I asked as Alfred put a mask on as well.

“No, Harlie has no issues with how we're going to travel. Earpieces in, we need to stay connected.”

These were similar to what the bad guys wore in
The Matrix
, only they went into both ears and attached behind our heads, hooking into the masks, with a small transmitter connected to the tubes and masks sitting at the back of our heads. I could still hear everyone—in fact, I could hear more than just us, but it wasn't painful. Was glad I didn't care what my hair was going to look like once we took this gear off. However, we were essentially unrecognizable with this stuff on.

Completing our War Ensembles, Alfred handed each of us a ball of what appeared to be really slick black Silly Putty. “Smash them onto your chests.”

Cox and I did so, and were instantly enveloped in a slick, lightweight bodysuit that went up to our necks, and covered everything else on our bodies, while still going over our clothes. Was glad I'd put my purse down before I'd gotten “dressed,” but once we were suited up, I put it back over my neck.

The Coach bag wasn't nearly as incognito as what I usually carried, however. Alfred frowned at it, and put a tiny speck of the Super Silly Putty on the purse. It was covered the same way the rest of us were, and it now resembled the purse I was used to. I was good with this.

“What about Stripes?” Alfred was clearly prepping us for battle and I didn't want Stripes to have less protection than the rest of us.

“I can put this onto him as well, if he's willing.”

Stripes meowed. “He wants to know what happens if he has an itch or the need to wash.”

“He can scratch through the body armor, but I don't recommend licking it.”

Stripes considered his options and meowed at me. “He's willing to give it a shot if you can take it off of him if he can't stand it.”

“Yes, I can. It's easy to remove—you just peel it off.”

Cox gave it a shot. “Not peeling for me, sir.”

“Oh, well, you have to start at the neck and go down, William.” Alfred said this as if it were totally obvious. Was glad Cox had taken one for the team and given it a try before I had.

Cox did as instructed and the suit rolled down. He let go and it slid back up into place. “Impressive, sir. What does it do?”

“It will protect us from the elements, including going faster than hyperspeed. It also repels projectiles. It can't stop all of them, but it's similar to Kevlar. Only the next iteration.”

“The military and police force could use something like this,” Cox said.

“In due time,” Alfred said, concentrating on getting the suit onto Stripes.

“Meaning you sold them Kevlar already but you're not sure that you can trust the world with this improvement.”

Alfred shot a smile at me. “Yes, exactly.”

Looked at Cox. “Protecting Alfred and keeping him out of our enemies' hands is Job One.”

“I agree, ma'am.”

“Alright, we're all set.” Alfred sounded pleased and just a little bit excited. Stripes looked like a Nightmare Cat, but then, the rest of us looked like Nightmare People, so that fit. Picked the cat up and put him into my purse, and Harlie mewed at Alfred and jumped into the purse to join him. “That's fine,” Alfred said with a chuckle. “You can ride in fancy comfort all you want, Harlie.”

With that Alfred ushered us out, turned out all the lights, and locked the door behind us.

The masks had an infrared capability in the goggles, and probably some other extras. I could see as clearly as if the tunnels were lit with thousand-watt light bulbs, even though Alfred's lab hadn't seemed any brighter than it had before I'd put the goggles on.

Alfred zipped off at hyperspeed. I grabbed Cox and followed. We stopped shortly and Cox and Stripes both didn't even gag. We were at a wall, but when Alfred pushed against it in a pattern that looked random but clearly wasn't it opened up to reveal a large, perfectly square room.

“I know what this is. It's a Z'Porrah Power Cube room. Or it was.” This room was filled with books. More books than the Library of Congress or the Library at Alexandria. Possibly put together.

Alfred went in and we followed him. It was a maze in here, with shelf after shelf loaded with books. Some shelves moved to reveal more shelves and different paths. Decided this wasn't my kind of room and stayed very close to Alfred.

Alfred moved a few shelves in a very deliberate way that said “combination” to me—similarly to how Reader had moved the wine bottles in the cellar of Chuckie's now-destroyed house. “If you say so. They're all over the world—in every branch of the tunnel system. And some areas have more than one. However, there was nothing in these rooms when I found them. The doors were open and the rooms were empty.”

“Huh.” Thought about something Cox had said earlier as another shelf of books appeared. Alfred moved this one and took something from behind it, then put the shelf back. “So, maybe you're right, Bill. The Ancients didn't crash when they came here. On my world they died because they didn't wear spacesuits, though.”

“How stupid are these so-called intelligent life forms, ma'am?”

“They're shape-shifters, remember. In my world, a Z'Porrah power cube is what we're pretty sure brought down the Ancient's spaceship.”

“Well,” Alfred said, as we headed back through the Maze of Books, “maybe in this world they were able to avoid the attack. And in doing so, that would have given them more time to study the atmosphere and make adjustments.”

“That makes sense, actually. I have to figure the Ancients could and therefore would go after the power cubes, because they're weapons—the Z'Porrah were going to activate them to destroy the world when they came back to my world. But the Ancients are on our side, and they'd survived an attack, meaning they'd want to get rid of the Z'Porrah Weapons of Mass Destruction. Leaving the doors open was probably their way of saying ‘nanner nanner' to any Z'Porrah that might drop by to check on things.”

“Well, they've been lifesaving for me. I installed a door in the first one I found, where you found me. I didn't even explore much until I was safely set up there. Once I did . . .” Alfred shrugged. “Let's just say that I have all the storage and safe houses I'm going to ever need.”

We left this room and he closed the wall. There was no way to tell that any part of the wall was a door. Alfred took off again and again we followed. Zigged and zagged a bit, then he stopped again. Once again, he pressed on the wall and once again it opened onto another perfectly square room.

Only this room definitely had something extra inside.

T
HE ROOM LOOKED LIKE
what I could only think of as a futuristic motorcycle showroom. Only the motorcycles were a little wider than the ones I was used to, and they had running boards where the foot pegs would have been.

Cox whistled. “Can those go as fast as they look, sir?”

“Faster,” Alfred said with some pride in his voice. He went to one, sat on it, and pressed a button. A clear, oval bubble went around the bike and rider. “It's a metallized plasticine. Repels projectiles, protects the tires from punctures, makes supersonic speeds easier and crashes far less fatal. And it runs on self-sustaining batteries.”

“It's like
Robotech
. And the laser shields we have in my world. Don't give this to anyone.” It was far too easy for me to imagine this in a war setting, and while it would be great to protect our own soldiers, it would inevitably be used by the enemy, too. And even though we seemed stuck with it, escalation rarely seemed to be the answer. However, Alfred was basically the War Division all by himself. It was kind of nice that he was sharing the credit with all the Dazzlers back home. Of course, he had nothing else to do here as near as I could tell, other than hide and tinker.

“No, I'm not planning on it. But they help me get around. I have these placed in rooms all over—I keep several in each one because while the batteries do recharge themselves, they need to charge when they're not used regularly, and I never want to be without an escape.”

“I hear that. So, in my world, A-Cs can't use equipment like cars or planes because their reflexes are too good and they'll destroy the machinery. How did you get around that?”

He grinned. “Those are human-created machines. These were created by me, for me. You should be okay, but William may need some help.” He pushed the button and his shield turned off. Alfred trotted over to a case against the far wall of the Futuristic Vehicle Showroom and grabbed two things that looked like robotic gauntlets.

“What are those?”

“Robotic gauntlets.” Score one for me. “I made them in case I ever . . . found a friend I could trust.” Tried not to let my heart hurt for Alfred. Failed. Utterly. “William, with these on your forearms, you'll be able to control the bike if necessary.”

“If necessary?” Cox asked.

“I'll have your bikes programmed to go where Kitty tells us we're going. You shouldn't have to steer or control anything.” Alfred shrugged. “But in case of a problem, the gauntlets are a failsafe. They'll allow you to stop the bike, if nothing else.”

“Really don't let those fall into anyone else's hands.” Was now sincerely worried about going on this raid because if we failed, Cliff got everything he'd ever need to take over this world quickly and easily. And everything he'd need to kill the people in this world I loved. Decided he'd get this stuff and/or Alfred over my dead body.

“Sir, are you sure you should come with us?” Clearly Cox had come to the same conclusions I had.

“Yes,” Alfred said firmly. “You're going to need me, I'm sure. And if they do have advanced tech, someone has to be with you who can dismantle or destroy it, safely and effectively.”

Couldn't argue. Jeff might not be in this world, but Alfred was Jeff's father, and Jeff didn't hide from danger. And apparently, with a little bit of moral support, Alfred didn't hide, either.

“Before we take off, what, if anything, do I tell my superiors?” Cox asked, as Alfred showed us how to work our Supersonic Speeders. The gist was “let the bike do the work” and “this is the off switch in case something malfunctions.”

“I want to tell you to call in sick, but I'm not sure how that works in the military.”

“In the military it doesn't work at all, ma'am. However, I'm reporting into the C.I.A. right now.”

“I'd call in,” Alfred said. “Tell them you had a celebratory dinner and got food poisoning. Apologize profusely, but indicate that you're not going to report in for at least a day, maybe two.”

Checked my watch. Jeff had gotten it for me. Shoved away the pang of fear that I'd never see him again. “It's just about dawn. If you call in now and say you've been throwing up all night, they should buy it.”

“Can a call get through from here?”

“Not really. Let's do a test run and go back to the Memorial entrance. That's where you two came in, isn't it?”

“Yes, not through the golf course entrance.”

“Those are the only two entrances for the D.C. area,” Alfred confirmed. “We'll go slowly until you two get used to using the Speeders.”

We walked the bikes out of the showroom, Alfred closed and did whatever to lock this room, then we mounted up and started off. Slowly, for these things, was at about what I called the slow hyperspeed rate. Fast enough that the human eye would still miss you, not so fast that you couldn't focus on a specific thing with human eyesight.

We had limited control over how fast we went—Alfred had programmed that for this leg of the journey—though the control dial for speed was easy to spot. So was the control to remove the autopilot. Frankly, all the controls on the speeders were more easily and obviously spotted than on any A-C “improved” vehicle I'd ever seen in my own universe.

Alfred had programmed the bikes to go about halfway up the tunnel slope that led up to the Lincoln Memorial entrance, and that's where we went. Then Cox made his call using a burner phone Alfred provided.

Cox sounded completely believable as someone who hadn't slept and was sick as a dog when he left his message, so we congratulated ourselves on what we hoped was a successful ruse, then Alfred programmed the speeders' GPS systems with a new set of coordinates.

Was really glad we had the shields as we took off, heading toward what I hoped was Florida, because we were going much faster than before. It was a relief that wind resistance on our bodies was basically nonexistent, because it would have been hard to stay on the speeder otherwise.

We zipped along and I couldn't have told anyone where we were in the tunnels, let alone where we were in relation to the world above, even if everyone's life had depended upon it. Sort of wished I'd brought Chuckie along—he'd have memorized everything already and have formulated a variety of escape routes as well.

Reader would have taken the bike off autopilot and mastered the speeder within five minutes. Buchanan probably would have, as well. And they were trained operatives. None of my little commando team was really prepped to handle whatever we were going to find in Florida, not even me, really.

However, we were doing this so that I wouldn't have to watch any or all of the actually trained guys die, so I stopped whining to myself.

The trip was scary and fun at the same time, racing through these underground tunnels faster than I'd ever gone before, other than when Christopher was pulling me along at his Super Flash Speed Level.

We stopped after we'd been going about an hour. Alfred turned off his shields and dismounted, and Cox and I followed suit,. Alfred opened a door to what turned out to be another Future Vehicles Showroom and had us change speeders. “Always pays to have the freshest batteries when you're about to tackle the hardest part of your journey,” he said cheerfully. Had the distinct impression that this was the most fun Alfred had had since well before he'd been banished here.

The next leg of our journey was short. “We're under Cape Canaveral,” Alfred told us when we stopped. “We'll need to go up and go the rest of the way on the surface, because I have no idea where Kitty wants us to go.”

“And I have less than no guess while we're underground. But is it safe to just leave the speeders here?”

“They work on the surface, too. Though I've only used them there at night.”

“It's early morning now,” Cox pointed out. “I'm worried that we'll be seen on these, and that's only going to fuel some bizarre rumors, dangerous speculation, or, worse, indicate to powers that be that Alfred has new toys they're going to want.”

“What Bill said, ad infinitum. While I'd love to use these aboveground, I'm really concerned about someone else, anyone else, getting their paws on them.” Thought about this. “But I think I can find Martini Manor on a map and show it to you. Maybe you can, I don't know, figure out where in the tunnels they'd be?”

“I could, but it doesn't matter. There are only a few entrances and this is the only one in this part of Florida. Trust me—I've been here for decades—there isn't a portion of this tunnel system I haven't examined and searched. But we need to conserve our strength, and if where we're headed is too far away, we're going to be at a distinct disadvantage.”

“Well, if we knew exactly where we were going, Alfred could just program our GPS systems,” Cox suggested.

“What about things like people, cars, buildings, and wildlife?”

“Oh, I can send avoidance directives within the GPS program,” Alfred said cheerily. “Kitty, can you truly show me where we're going on a map?”

“If someone pulls up Google Maps for me, yes, I can.”

Alfred cocked his head at me. “Why can't you do it yourself?”

“It's not really her phone and she's locked out of it,” Cox explained.

“May I?” Alfred put out his hand. Gave him the cell phone. His fingers worked at a blur and he handed it back to me. “There you go. Opened. The combination is zero-eight-zero-one.”

Thought about this. Chuckie and I had gone to Vegas at the end of July the year he'd proposed and I hadn't realized he wasn't kidding. “Oh. I bet that's their anniversary. I can remember that.” I hoped.

We walked the speeders up the slope for this entrance and stopped when I had full bars. Pulled up the map and found Martini Manor on it. Per what I could see, it was pretty much the same—three gigantic houses—giant, supergiant, and colossal—sitting in the middle of a fenced estate. The look screamed Drug Lord, something I wisely chose not to mention to Alfred here and made a mental note to never mention to anyone in my own universe, either.

Alfred loaded the maps into our GPS systems, which now displayed the path. “It'll tell you when to turn, too, not that you'll need to do anything, since you'll be on autopilot. And it will match the speed you're going, so you're told in an appropriate manner.”

“This you should share. Because current GPS needs some serious help.”

“I'll keep it in mind. Shall we?”

“Once more into the breach and all that.”

“Kitty, you lead, I'll bring up the rear,” Cox said. “That way, we have Alfred protected.”

“Works for me. Let's make our own lane and roll.”

“Wow, you sound so ‘street' when you say that.”

“Just keepin' it gangsta throughout the multiverse, Bill.”