Vladimir stiffened as the Ghost approached his daughter and dropped to a knee. “Feisty little one, eh? And what’s your Quasing’s name, Alexandra Mengsk, Papa’s daughter?”
Alex shook her head, refusing to speak. The Ghost looked up at Vladimir.
“It’s all right,” Vladimir said. “Go ahead and tell our friend here.”
“Tabs,” the name came out of her reluctantly.
The Ghost smiled. “Thank you, child. I hope she guides you well.” He stood up. “What about the rest of you?”
Petr, unsurprisingly, refused to divulge any information. The colonel clamped down and looked away, refusing even to acknowledge the Rayban Ghost’s existence.
The Ghost sighed. “Like I said, always someone screwing it up for everyone.” He grabbed Petr by the shoulder and kneed him in the stomach, doubling him over. The Ghost knocked him to the ground and drew his pistol, jamming it into his forehead. He looked over at Rin. “His name and Quasing. Now.”
“Petr. Coruv,” she said reluctantly, eyes down on the ground.
Petr glared. “Weak runt.”
His name must have meant something to the Rayban Ghost, who took a renewed interest in Petr. “Coruv. Russian by your accent.” He looked down and saw the bayonet holster on each side of Petr’s boots. “You’re one of Vinnick’s dogs?”
“What’s it to you, betrayer?” Petr snarled.
“There’s little I can do with a rabid animal.” The Ghost took off his aviator sunglasses. “The Russians killed thirty Prophus refugees escaping the Chinese Inquisition two years ago. I had some friends there.”
“I took great pleasure partaking -” Petr said.
“My name is Roen Tan, you mass-murdering asshole.”
“You! You and your bitch were the ones that betrayed us to the humans!” Petr lunged at him and collapsed from a single gunshot through the chest. His sparkling Quasing rose from his body and fluttered about as if a wisp among these giant trees.
“Get out of here, Coruv, and consider yourself lucky I don’t have a flamethrower on me.” Roen Tan turned and faced the rest of the group. “Anyone else want to release their Quasing? I’ll be more than happy to oblige.” He stared each of them down before finally adding. “Here’s the deal. I can kill you now so your Quasing can find a host among the redwoods for a few centuries, or you can cooperate and come with me. Oh, by the way, if you were expecting your contact, sorry, but I think her Quasing is now living the good life in an anteater. What will it be?”
The small group exchanged looks, and the rest of them looked to Vladimir. He stepped forward. “We will cooperate, Prophus.”
“Good.” Roen gestured to Ohr. “Authenticate yourself.”
“Excuse me, Mr Uh…The Ghost,” Rin asked. “Why don’t you just use the vessel the Penetra scanner had detected earlier? He can just identify us through touch instead of going through this charade.”
Roen Tan shook his head. “I had to send him off ahead. His mom’s going to kill us. He’s already late for school.”
2 Domesticated
The Prophus, and I am sure the Genjix as well, had watched the Senate hearings very closely. Senators Mary Thompson and James Wilks, along with Haewon, Mary’s Quasing, were interrogated, prodded, and tested extensively by the Military, CIA, FBI, and every other branch of the government.
In the end, three months following the Great Betrayal, the Extraterrestrial Sedition Act was passed. That marked the beginning of a new era on Earth. The governments of the world, one by one, began to recognize the existence of aliens. The game had changed for everyone.
Baji
Jill Tesser Tan used to hate cooking. The truth was she never learned how to cook growing up, because both her parents were too busy with their careers to ever step foot in the kitchen, other than to heat up the occasional late-night carryout. Unlike for most families, their kitchen was the least-used room in their home.
Now, in her forties, Jill had finally discovered the joys of making food from scratch. That was fortunate, because now, she had a kitchen in her quaint farmhouse that was about as big as her entire condo in Manhattan growing up, and she loved it. Over the past few years, she had found comfort in the constant warmth of their working brick oven and the aroma of home-cooked food wafting throughout the entire house. This kitchen was the heart of her home and the place where she conducted all her business.
She adjusted her headset as she mixed a batch of pancake batter. “I don’t care if it takes three hours. I want a full count before we exchange the currency. No more weights, since he shorted us 30k last time, and damn it, Hite, make sure that rate is three quarters. If Moyan flubs it again, you tell him we’ll wash it elsewhere in the future.”
Moyan will know you are bluffing. There is no one within a thousand kilometers who can move this much volume.
“On second thought, don’t tell him that. Just frigging count the money.”
Jill switched over to the second channel as she turned the stove on and sprayed oil onto the griddle. The perimeter alert on the map of her property began to blink orange. Jill looked through the kitchen window and saw an armed figure emerge from the thickets. She stared at the orange light until it turned green, and then went back to working on her pancake batter.
She switched over to the next channel. “Kate? Oh sorry, Harry. Ping me when you receive an update on the registry. We need to get the Patels working during the trip, so make sure they have upgraded accommodations.” She switched again. “Kate? Good. When you meet with the Hillmans, see if they have a couple extra cases of.45 bullets. Untraceable, of course. And some incendiaries. Preferably nothing older than the Korean War this time, please.”
“Hi, Mom.” Cameron Tan, wearing a ghillie suit with a SCAR rifle slung around his back, waved as he walked through the kitchen doorway. He had wiped his feet before he walked in, but the rest of him looked like he had just come out the losing end of a mud-wrestling contest. She waved back, instinctively checking for any signs of injuries as he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.
Jill took one sniff and shooed him away. “Go take a shower. You’ve already missed the bus, and you smell like you waded through sewage.” She paused. “Did you and your father go…?”
He shook his head. “No, we did not go dumpster diving again.”
Jill grinned at her gangly teenager. Cameron had floppy hair that she disapproved of because it covered half his face, which was a spitting image of Roen. His skin was dark from the many hours he spent outdoors every day. He was going through his growth spurt right now and at fifteen, much to the chagrin of his father, he was already the tallest member in the family. The perfectly fitting long-sleeve shirts, sweaters, and pants she had bought him just last winter were already showing too much ankle and wrist. She also noticed during their many sparring sessions that he had gotten noticeably stronger as well, whether from puberty or because the t’ai chi was finally clicking. She’d have to watch out for that; pretty soon, they wouldn’t be able to spar anymore, and strangely, that made her a little sad.
She shooed him toward the stairs. “I’ll have breakfast ready by the time you’re not stinking up the joint.” She held up a finger and turned away. “Comm Ops. What do you mean they can’t support the Patels? There’s a very specific reason we paid for board on a research vessel. It’s a damn waste of money otherwise. Tell them we want our money back then. No, screw them. Get a refund or I will peel it from their hides.”
Jill continued running Prophus operations for the entire Pacific Northwest while she poured the first batch of pancakes over the hot griddle. As she spoke, she noticed that Cameron had not moved. She clicked on the mute and looked at him. “Is there something else?”