Alien Nation #4 - The Change Read online

  Jack looked at Amanda, his face ashen. “What about us? We got Carrie Norcross on tape for everything from mass murder to treason, but it’s not going to do us much good if we’re cinders.” He jumped as the remains of a gas storage tank exploded, illuminating the desert for miles around. “God, please, God, please let me live long enough to get this on the air before Channel Seven.”

  There was another explosion, and the car carrying the unlikely team of Brett, Tomas, Rittenhouse, and Lipscomb vaporized while both choppers swung around and began searching out warm bodies on the desert. Each body found was burgered on the spot with computer-directed, high-density machine-gun fire.

  “Loose ends,” Amanda said. “Carrie Norcross is snipping off loose ends.”

  “Jesus,” Jack Rovitch said. “Now that’s what I call one crazy son of a bitch.”

  “Dammit!” Carlo shouted. “What about us? Aren’t we a loose end? The biggest goddamned loose end that Norcross’s got?”

  Jack wiped his brow and stared at the monitors, glorious visuals awash with flames, audio heavy with thunder. “They got too much on their minds. We’re not close. They won’t notice us.”

  “With the silver mirror and electric-green paint job on this thing?” Carlo shrieked. “And what about those feed lines? They run right up to us. Let’s pull the plugs and get the hell out of here! No lights, no nothin’, just blow, split, vanish!”

  Jack rose halfway from his chair and froze as one of the monitors showed one of the choppers heading east toward the mobile unit. “Uh-oh.” He glanced at Amanda, then Carlo, then the door.

  “Carlo’s got a point. We got to get the hell out of here. That culvert down the road. Maybe we can reach it. Maybe the heat sensors can’t read us through all that concrete and steel.” He looked back at Carlo and Amanda. “Grab the tapes!”

  The sound of the chopper blades pounded their eardrums as Amanda jabbed the ejection buttons on two recorders and screamed in frustration as the mechanism paused, verified, cycled, and pushed the bright red plastic case out of the panel. She grabbed the cassettes, saw that Carlo had a cassette in each hand, then she lunged for the door, knocking herself to the floor as she ran into Jack Rovitch’s ample backside. Climbing to her feet, she said, “Jack? What is it?”

  He pushed the door open all of the way with his foot, revealing the desert pocked with red and blue flashing lights. “Cops.” She pushed Jack aside and stepped down from the door. There were more than a dozen police cruisers surrounding the TV mobile unit. All of the officers were standing outside their vehicles, their weapons at the ready. Facing them forty yards away was the Air Force gunship. The image held for close to fifteen seconds, then the DX-17 turned slowly and headed north.

  “Too much,” a voice said.

  “You’re right, Cap. The Air Force declaring war on the Los Angeles Police Department just wouldn’t look good no matter what kind of spin they put on it.”

  Amanda walked over to the speaker. In the strobing red and blue flashes of the lights, she recognized him. “You’re Detective Sergeant Francisco.”

  George smiled but continued looking toward the north. “And you are Amanda Reckonwith, queen of the Slagtown news beat.”

  “When did you cops arrive?”

  “Five or six minutes ago. It looks like we were just in time.”

  “That’s the honest damned truth,” Jack Rovitch said from the door of the mobile unit. Carlo was peeking over his shoulder, and Jack stood out of his way. “G’wan. You don’t need a green card. You were born here.”

  Amanda took two steps and came to a halt facing George. “You knew about this?”

  “I suspected something. He had something I needed delivered to the hospital. It was part of a deal we made. The strange thing was, there was no way for Maanka to collect his part from me. I thought something like this might happen.”

  “And you just let it happen?”

  George turned away, looked into the darkness for a moment, then faced the reporter. “I’m not really certain what’s happened. Are you?”

  “Dak’s dead, a whole bunch of mob hitters, and a couple of spin doctors along with him. Dr. Carrie Norcross gave the order, and she’s gotten away.”

  “I guess I got that part wrong,” Captain Grazer said.

  Amanda felt her eyebrows climb. “That part?”

  Grazer nodded as he shifted his gaze to look after the departing choppers. “There was some data Maanka Dak had that Norcross wanted. You must know about it. Dak said the entire thing would be witnessed.”

  “Yes. There were some computer disks. Norcross had them loaded on her chopper.”

  Grazer nodded and said to George, “That’s what I said. So why hasn’t that chopper been blown to pieces? He took over my whole command center in a matter of minutes. Maanka Dak can sure rig something as simple as a altimeter switch.”

  George shook his head. “You don’t understand, Cap. Rekwi ot osia: death to authority. Carrie Norcross alive and in front of a congressional committee will do more to kill corrupt authority than spreading her ashes all over the desert.”

  The sounds of distant sirens caused Amanda to look north toward the airfield. Tiny pinpricks of red flashing lights sparkled in the night. “The base fire brigade,” Grazer said.

  Amanda glanced down at the cassettes in her hands. “I don’t understand something, Sergeant.” She looked up at George. “How is this going to wind up in front of a committee? This is big stuff. Depending on where it leads, it could bring down the government, and I’m not talking about the mayor’s office.”

  George nodded. “You could be right.”

  She held up the cassettes. “I’ve been in this neighborhood before. It’s about now that some bureaucrat starts talking about national security and runs off with all our stuff.”

  “I wouldn’t know about that, Ms. Reckonwith. The LAPD has no jurisdiction here on federal property, and in fact we should get going before that bureaucrat you mentioned starts yelling at us. The fire brigade and the air police should be here soon. Our work is done.”

  “The choppers don’t look like they’re coming back,” Grazer said. He patted George on the shoulder. “Take it easy on the leg. See you at work in ten days. I’m leaving you Devlin to drive you back.”

  Captain Grazer gave a hand signal, got into his car, and drove off. One by one the officers got into their cruisers, turned off their flashing lights, and followed Grazer’s car back to L.A. In a minute there was only a lone car and officer left.

  Amanda turned back toward the mobile unit and saw Jack and Carlo still gawking out of the door. “Tell me you got that. You got that, right?”

  Jack and Carlo looked at each other, then looked back at Amanda. “Sorry,” Jack said. “I’m still trying to get used to being alive.”

  When she turned back, George had opened his door and climbed into the passenger seat. “Sergeant Francisco?”

  He pulled the door shut and hooked up his seat belt. “Yes?”

  “Thanks for not letting us die.”

  “Thank Maanka Dak for that. He told us only two things: where you’d be, and to protect the First Amendment to the Constitution.” He cocked his head toward the mobile unit. “Do you have a computer in there?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll bet you your next two smear campaigns against the LAPD that everything you need to put your story together is on your computer.”

  Amanda grinned widely. “No bet.” George nodded at the driver, the car backed around and stopped as Officer Devlin saw Amanda Reckonwith waving at them. “Sergeant?”

  George looked out of the window. “Yes?”

  “Maanka Dak. What was he after? He’s dead and he’ll still be dead once the stink dies down. What was this?”

  George frowned and looked thoughtful. “An apology,” he answered. “It was an apology.” He nodded toward the driver, and Devlin put the car in gear, turned on the headlights, and drove into the night.

  Amanda looked toward
the quarantine camp, the flames from dozens of buildings climbing into the night sky. The fire brigade was still miles away. “One crazy son of a bitch.”

  She turned, placed the cassettes beneath her arm, and climbed into the mobile unit. Before they reached the San Gabriel Mountains, Amanda Reckonwith was writing her copy.

  C H A P T E R 2 8

  BUCK HELD THE withered plant in his hand and looked at Aman Iri as Malcolm Bone watched. “When I say this is gray-green and carries a pink and yellow blossom when it blooms, and that it grows an average of nine inches in height, I’m talking about this object. When I say that it is beautiful or that it is a flower, I’m talking, not about it, but about myself. The words ‘flower’ and ‘weed’ are not descriptions of real things; they are judgments, like ‘us’ and ‘them,’ ‘black people’ and ‘white people,’ ‘good’ and ‘evil.’ ”

  Aman Iri nodded, removed his straw hat and looked up at the burned walls of the garden. “And if I should send you out into the garden to bring me back a flower, what would you do?”

  Buck smiled. “First I’d have to find out what you meant by the word.”

  “Sounds inefficient, troublesome. It might even make you look unintelligent.”

  “All of which are terms of judgment, Hila—” Buck paused for a moment, glanced at Malcolm, then grinned as he said, “—as is the term Hila.”

  Aman and Malcolm both laughed. Iri nodded and placed a hand on Buck’s shoulder. “I hear you had a bit of a misunderstanding with Malcolm.”

  Buck glanced at Malcolm, then looked at Aman. “Misunderstanding. That’s a very kind word to use to describe a bigot’s freakout.”

  The corners of the Hila’s mouth went down as he looked scornfully at Malcolm Bone. “Well, after all, he is a human. And try as we might, there are certainly distinct differences between humans and Tenctonese.”

  “Not differences that matter,” Buck answered. “Besides, I saw on the news this morning about a couple in Santa Cruz, a human male and a Tenct female, who are part of an experiment to enable impregnation between humans and Tencts.” He looked at Malcolm and said, “I apologize for how I acted. I also thank you for helping my father. He, and I, believe you saved a lot of lives with your advice.”

  “How is he?” Malcolm asked.

  “He’s taking a few days off until his leg heals and the riana runs its course. I don’t know how much rest he’ll get, though. The past few days have been pretty rough on the house, and my mom’s got a platoon of carpenters in there doing repairs.”

  “Well, he can always come down here to the vo. It’s a good place to sort out your circuits. How about his partner and the other officer? According to the Slagtown news, they’re both heroes.”

  “That’ll last until the Dodgers win another game,” Aman said.

  “In your dreams,” Malcolm responded. Turning to Buck, he repeated, “What about Matt Sikes?”

  “The operation with the tivati urih was a complete success. Dad said Matt was asking for chocolate chip cookies this morning. Ruma Kavit was released. After her wounds are healed, she’s going back to do cops, as she put it. That’s real hard for me to understand.”

  “Not so difficult,” Aman said. “Every fear you refuse to face surrounds you. The only way to escape a fear is to face it. She’s facing hers.” He smiled at Buck. “Your father asked me to speak with her. What of Paul Iniko?”

  “The FBI agent. He’s still in the hospital, but they expect to let him go in a few days. I don’t know what’s going to happen to him. He’s agreed to testify before the Senate Intelligence Committee.”

  “He’s an Overseer, isn’t he?” Malcolm asked.

  Buck pursed his lips, raised his eyebrows, and smiled. “He once carried that title.” He shifted his gaze to Aman Iri.

  “What about yourself, Buck?” asked the Hila. “Where are you in your search?”

  Buck glanced down for a moment. When he looked up again, his voice was strong. “I’ve gone back to high school.”

  “I thought you’d learned everything high school could teach you.”

  His eyes yellowed from embarrassment. Buck grinned and cocked his head to one side. “I found that I still have a lot to learn there. To begin with: how to be a teenager.” He held his head straight. “Do you want to meet the additions to your collection you sent me to find?”

  “Most assuredly.”

  “When you sent me for a yellow man and a black man, it was within your instructions that they be women, wasn’t it?”

  Aman Iri frowned and nodded. “A yellow woman and a black woman would do.”

  Buck held out his hand toward the building. “They’re awaiting your pleasure in the garden vestibule. Did you enjoy your skiing holiday?”

  “Quite.”

  Malcolm jabbed Aman in the ribs and pointed at Buck. “He’s got a mouthful of canary feathers.”

  “Don’t be disgusting.”

  Once inside the vestibule, they were met by two men and two women, all in their late teens. Buck went to a dark-skinned male and said, “May I introduce my friend Theo White, my white man.” He held his hand out toward a pale-skinned male. “This is my friend Victor Rojas, which means ‘red’ in Spanish.” He held his hand out toward a tall athletic woman with bright red hair. “This is Patty Gelbe, which means ‘yellow’ in German.” And finally, he held his hand out toward a dark-eyed creature with an elfin smile. “And this is my black woman, Mioshi Kuro.”

  As Malcolm Bone leaned against the door to support him in his laughter, Aman Iri removed his straw hat and said to Mioshi Kuro, “And ‘kuro’ means ‘black’ in Japanese?”

  She nodded and giggled. “We have talked among ourselves, sir, and we can supply a Brown, a Gray, a Green, and we think, a Blue.”

  There was laughter. The joy of learning. The thrill of taking those first halting steps toward freedom of the mind. As they went in to eat lunch, Buck’s friends decided the vo was a good place. They all made up their minds to return.

  C H A P T E R 2 9

  LATE THAT NIGHT in a semi-private room in Mt. Andarko Hospital, Matt Sikes was propped up in his bed, his bedclothes pulled up to his neck, looking at George sitting in a wheelchair. He glanced at the door and said, “Partner, I don’t think I’ll ever be warm again.”

  In the next bed Paul Iniko took a sip of water and replaced his glass upon the nightstand. When he was finished he looked at the door, and then at Matt. “Do you notice any difference from before, sergeant? There was some question about brain damage.”

  “I can’t do long division, but that’s okay because I never could.” Matt looked away from the door and faced Paul Iniko. “Are you getting along okay on only one heart?”

  “Are you?”

  “Just trying to be friendly,” Matt explained.

  “I’m doing just fine.” Paul Iniko faced George. “Now that you have those tremors in addition to the blindness, you really ought to be in bed. Dr. Rivers told you that.”

  “Muddy Rivers,” muttered George. All three of them jumped as the door to the room opened revealing Dr. Liveit, the Tenctonese administrator of Mt. Andarko.

  “You people seem nervous for being big time celebrities.” He walked over to George’s wheelchair and placed a hand on George’s shoulder. “Especially you, sergeant. I’ve never seen Amanda Reckonwith’s show so enamored of the police.”

  “Is it this one?” asked Paul Iniko.

  “Well, of course, this one,” said the administrator.

  “Forgive me, sir,” said Paul. “I was asking Sgt. Francisco a question.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No,” answered George. “This isn’t the one.”

  “One what?” asked Dr. Liveit.

  “It’s a game,” said Matt. “George can’t see very well, and he’s trying to pick out voices.”

  “What a remarkable attitude. I—”

  The trio jumped again as the door opened revealing a human nurse. She entered, a tray in her hands. The nurse was
slim and quite attractive. “Matt,” she said, “Cathy called to say she’d be in early tomorrow.” She put down the tray and began preparing a hypodermic. “It’s needle time again.”

  Matt stared at the woman for a moment, then smiled. “Anything to get my pants down, right, Linda?”

  “Thrills are my stock-in-trade.”

  Matt raised his eyebrows at George. “What do you say, partner?”

  “This one,” answered George. The room filled with explosions as both Sikes and Iniko fired their weapons through their sheets at Linda the nurse.

  Dr. Liveit stood in shock, his mouth opening and closing like a beached fish. Sikes pulled down his covers and put on his slippers, his weapon still aimed at the nurse. As he struggled out of bed, Matt said, “Linda’s blood is certainly pale for a human.” He knelt next to her, thrust the muzzle of his weapon against her temple, and peeled off her mask. The face lifted off, revealing the features of Maanka Dak. Dr. Liveit sat down on Matt’s bed.

  “What in the hell is going on here?”

  Matt’s search of Maanka’s body produced two automatic pistols. “That’s what I want to know, George. What’s going on? I thought this guy was feeling bad about what he did. Didn’t he apologize?”

  “Yes. But Maanka was apologizing for how he carried out his vikah ta, not the vikah ta itself. After all, he did take an oath.”

  Matt stood up, dropped the weapons on his nightstand, and sat next to Dr. Liveit. “So, partner, once the riana is all done, will you be permanently smart?”

  George grabbed the armrests to the wheelchair and pushed himself to a standing position. “Each time I go through the changing, I will have an incremental increase in intelligence, that’s all.” He felt his way over to Maanka’s body and knelt down next to it. He placed his fingers on Maanka Dak’s face and felt down the front of the uniform, over the artificial breasts, down to the waistline.

  “Maanka might have become an incredible mental power,” Paul Iniko observed, “had he lived long enough to experience riana.”