“Let’s put stuff in it,” Patrick said. A few minutes of frantic collection activity ended with food packages, computers, shoes, and other items of clothing piled on the table. Each person took an insert and started stuffing whatever they could into it. When we were done, I reversed the unfolding process, ending up with a closed briefcase sitting on the table.

  I grabbed the handle, attempted to lift, and said, “Oof.” The briefcase refused to budge.

  “I did mention that mass doesn’t disappear,” Sheldon commented.

  “Yeah, and we didn’t really put that much in it. I just wasn’t prepared.” I lifted with a more concerted effort and managed to wrestle the briefcase down to my side. “Um, about sixty pounds, maybe?”

  Everyone stared at the briefcase in my hand for a moment before Nat said, “I’m going to get my Cheetos back, right?”

  “Eight briefcases.” Patrick shook his head. “They are very, very impressive, but that’s not enough. I had hoped we could scatter samples to a crowd like at a Mardi Gras parade, but we’d need a lot more than this.”

  Nat frowned. “Then we need to go to the press.”

  “Hopefully there aren’t any Loranna on staff,” I said.

  “The actual Lorannic presence on Earth can’t be very high if they are just a single clan,” Sheldon said. “And they can’t be everywhere. Most of their activity is electronic in nature or through proxies, as I mentioned previously. And even with that, they would be concentrating on high-level targets with maximum influence.”

  “So news outlets that tend to support the Lorannic agenda are probably the ones with collaborationists in control,” I replied.

  “That would be reasonable. But please remember that I have few actual facts to go on. My assertions are based on historical precedent and extrapolation, plus what I was able to get from the files we managed to download.”

  Patrick leaned over and looked into the depths of the briefcase, then straightened up, grinning. “Well, we have to do something. Let’s just try to prepare as much as possible.”

  “Visiting the news outlets is something we should do tomorrow. For now, though, maybe we can do some setup,” Nat said. “Something dramatic.”

  The 747 grew swiftly in the view window, cruising along at thirty-five thousand feet in the evening twilight. Given the airplane’s cruising speed of around six hundred miles per hour, the speed with which Sheldon was overtaking it was awe-inspiring. Since we were on a western heading, sunset would come slowly. Nevertheless, we had only a few minutes of good visibility.

  “I will disengage cloaking in a moment, and we will appear on radar,” Sheldon said. “That should create some consternation.”

  I looked away from the image for a moment to address Sheldon. “Remember, not close enough to cause any danger. But be as obvious as possible.”

  “I have flown a spaceship before. Let’s see what they have to say.”

  The voice of an air-traffic controller came out of midair. “514 Heavy, you have an unidentified object in your airspace, coming up from bearing two ten. Please respond.”

  The Halo pulled up to the 747’s starboard and matched speed, positioned so that the ship was clearly visible from the cockpit.

  Another voice, presumably from the cockpit crew, responded, “Holy shit. Ground, we’ve got an actual flying saucer. I mean, it’s circular and saucer shaped. Nice colors, though. Not the usual gray or silver.”

  “514 Heavy, are you reporting a UFO?”

  “For the official report, yes. But it’s … I think it wants to be seen. It’s just cruising along beside us.”

  “Can you get pictures?”

  “I’m betting every phone in the passenger cabin is working overtime right now. We won’t have any problem there.”

  I grinned at the others. “Let’s give the passengers on the other side some quality time.”

  “Acknowledged.” Sheldon looped over the aircraft to the port side, holding the same relative position just aft of the cockpit. “I have detected approaching military craft. ETA about three minutes.”

  “Damn, that’s fast.” Patrick shook his head. “That’s not from a standing start. I think they might have rotating patrols in the air. That means we’re having an effect, even if not publicly.”

  “Sheldon, you can stay ahead of them, right?” I said.

  “Seriously?”

  “I had to ask. Okay, let’s play some cat and mouse. You’re in charge. Make it interesting.”

  Sheldon immediately started circling the aircraft in a corkscrew pattern, moving forward and back along the plane’s axis. It guaranteed that every window seat would get at least one good shot of the spaceship. After a couple of cycles, a window popped up on the bridge monitor showing four approaching fighter jets.

  “Time to go,” said Sheldon. We flew off at a tangent that would allow the aircraft passengers to see the flying saucer and pursuing military planes, and get some more good shots.

  We were all watching the chase, when puffs of flame suddenly erupted from under the fighter jets.

  “They’re firing on us,” Patrick said. “That is not normal. Especially with no challenge, and so close to a civilian aircraft.”

  I reacted immediately. “Sheldon, get us out of here.”

  The Halo did a right-angle turn and hurtled straight up, fast enough for ionization to show up in the external view. “As a bonus,” Sheldon said, “the ionization will make our radar image that much more pronounced.”

  “Is that actually a good thing?” Nat asked.

  “The missiles will not catch us. And we are being lit up by at least three overlapping civilian radar systems and two military sources. Not to mention visual sightings by any number of observatories and amateur astronomers. The Loranna will have a great deal of difficulty suppressing this event.”

  “Fun times,” I said. “Okay, Sheldon. Cloak us and let’s head, uh, home.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six: The Big Reveal

  Day 29. Friday morning

  I reflexively pulled at the T-shirt collar. My new clothes didn’t feel quite right. Sheldon insisted that the form and weight were identical to those of the originals, but the actual experience was just a little bit off. From the shifting and squirming of Patrick and Nat, I assumed they were noticing a difference as well.

  Still, it wasn’t uncomfortable, just different enough. Like wearing silk instead of cotton. I’d probably get used to it in an hour or two, and that would be that. The clothes looked normal enough. Not shiny, at least, thank God. Jeans, tees, a jean jacket for Nat, one of those weird-ass blingy hoodies that Patrick seemed to love, nothing that would raise an eyebrow out in public. Well, maybe the hoodie, but that wasn’t Sheldon’s fault.

  And our old clothes had been getting a little gamey. Despite Sheldon’s pleas, we’d opted to have our clothes cleaned instead of burned. And the showers helped. The Gennan toilet facilities might have been spartan, but their showers were bordering on decadent, with infinite hot water, settable in about half-degree increments. Apparently for a furred sentient, a shower was something more than just a luxury.

  I finished my breakfast and returned the bowl to the auto-attendant. One of the advantages of an alien spaceship, anyway: no dishwashing.

  “Have you noticed the lack of automation?” Nat said behind me.

  “What? It does the dishes,” I replied. “How is that a lack of automation?”

  “Not what I meant,” Nat replied. “I mean there’s very little in the way of visible stuff. No robots. There’s no Roomba running around cleaning the floor, no mechanical butler fetching things for us, and the auto-attendant is designed so you never see the internals. How does Sheldon maintain himself, for instance? I’d visualize some kind of spiderlike robot, roaming around fixing things, but so far, nada.”

  “We could just ask him.”

  “Been meaning to, but we’ve been a little busy, know what I mean?”

  I nodded, just as Sheldon said, “Since you ask, even though you didn’t, you’re correct, Nat. The Gen consider mechanical servants such as you describe to be, erm, something between gauche and offensive. There’s no real English equivalent. On the other hand, they’re quite happy to not do their own dishes, so a considerable amount of effort is put into making sure that they have all the modern conveniences but that nothing shows.”

  “Which is why we have to walk to storage instead of having a robot deliver things,” she said.

  “Exactly.”

  “Right now, we have a meeting to arrange,” I said, changing the subject. I pointed at the image on the forward view, showing the CNN building in Atlanta. “Hopefully they don’t have any helicopters coming in.” I glanced around at Patrick, who had been silently watching the discussion while nursing a coffee. “Ready to go?”

  “Let’s do this.” Patrick held up his phone and dialed. After a moment, he said, “Hello, news desk. We’re about to land our flying saucer on your helipad upstairs and are prepared to give an interview. Yes, I know it’s private prop—no, you don’t seem to—Oh, for fuck sake. You’re on the eighth floor, right? Look out your window in about ten seconds.”

  “That is my cue,” Sheldon said. “Moving into position.”

  Through the display window, the side of the building was heaving in close. Inside, I could see people looking up from their desks, then plastering themselves to the window.

  “How ‘bout now?” Patrick snarled into the phone. “Want an interview now? We’ll be parked upstairs.”

  The view slid away as Sheldon moved the ship to the top of the building. As we settled onto the roof, I stood, grabbed the suitcase on the table, and headed for the exit. “Let’s go get our fifteen minutes of fame.”

  Patrick and I stepped down the airlock stairs just as the door to the roof burst open and several people hurried out, cameras and miscellaneous equipment draped over them. In the lead, a young woman speed-walked toward us, waving a microphone. “That’s … that’s … ”

  “A flying saucer?” I replied. “Yep. Want to come in? Or should we go to your studio?”

  “Can we do both? Okay, studio first. The acoustics and all are better. At least,” she looked uncertain, “I assume they are. I don’t actually know what you have in there.”

  Patrick grinned back at her. “’S okay. Your turf is better. We have some stuff to show you, and it’s better if you don’t suspect a prepared stage of some kind.”

  The reporter, whom I vaguely remembered as Charlene-something, gestured and led the way. Nat was staying on the Halo in case of emergency, although no one was sure what such an emergency would consist of.

  We went down a couple of floors to an interior room with thick walls and a complicated lighting setup. I placed the briefcase on a convenient table and gestured to Charlene. “Open it up and remove the contents. Make sure you’re recording.”

  Charlene looked slightly irritated that she’d lost the initiative but was plainly curious enough not to balk. She snapped open the case and laid the two halves flat. In short order, she’d extracted a toaster, several sets of clothing, a loaf of bread, and a pillow. At one point, she lifted the case to look under it.

  When she was done, she stared at the items on the table—almost five cubic feet of contents pulled out of a suitcase with less than one cubic foot of volume, at least from the outside. Charlene’s jaw worked a couple of times before she was able to talk. “Okay, that’s admittedly hard to fake. And I guess that’s the point?”

  “Exactly right. I need to establish some credibility up front, so you don’t just back away slowly when I give you the whole story.”

  Charlene grinned. “Because the blue-and-green flying saucer isn’t enough.”

  “Well, some people might be able to rationalize it away.” I shrugged. “In any case, I figured a little overkill was better than the alternative.”

  “Working so far. Tell you what. Since I have no idea what to ask at this point, why don’t you just give us a rundown of whatever you want to communicate, and we’ll do Q&A and edits on the back end? But let’s start with: are you human?”

  I laughed. “Yes, we are. And how we ended up with the ship is a story all on its own, but that’s not the important part.” I handed Charlene a thumb drive. “This has some details, but here’s the high-altitude version … ” I gave a highly abbreviated account of our adventures and what we’d learned, while Charlene’s eyes grew wider and wider.

  When I was done, Charlene asked, “So you guys are the group that’s supposed to have held up a 7-Eleven and killed everyone?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Enemy of the State.”

  “As a matter of fact, your father said something similar in an interview, if I remember right. So what can we—?”

  A woman burst into the room holding a cell phone out like a talisman. “We’re being raided. Something like SWAT has broken in downstairs. They commandeered the elevators using firefighter keys. Anyone who challenges them gets cuffed or tasered. I don’t know if it’s your guests they’re after … ”

  “Duh,” Charlene said. She turned to me. “That’s a pretty quick response. Any idea why? Or how?”

  I pointed at the thumb drive, still in Charlene’s hand. “It’s all on there. The Loranna are apparently into everything, deep enough that they can move SWAT in at a moment’s notice. What’s your cell number?”

  Charlene quickly rattled one off.

  “Noted,” said Sheldon over my cling-on. “However, this quick action from law enforcement makes me think there may be a Lorannic ship on the way. I’m going to have to leave.”

  I nodded, then said to Charlene, “Who have you got out in the field right now? Male.”

  “Uh … Larry Brauer and Neil Hall, that I can think of.”

  “Good enough. Sheldon, got images?”

  “Affirmative. One moment … They are shorter than you and taller than Patrick, so try not to interact with your environment.”

  I felt the momentary tingle as the cloak activated, and Charlene drew back in shock as we magically changed into her colleagues. The camera operator, true to her profession, didn’t even twitch.

  “If they come in here, you do all the talking,” I said.

  We maneuvered ourselves around so that we were sitting with Charlene. The camera operator casually placed her equipment on the table in such a way that the camera was covering the room, and the battery pack shielded the red-blinking recording light from view.

  We didn’t have long to wait. The door burst open and two fully kitted-up cops stepped in, weapons up and scanning the room. “Names!” one of them barked.

  “What the hell is this?” Charlene exclaimed, doing a good job of acting surprised. “You can’t just—”

  “Names. Last chance.” The cop activated a laser sight and the red dot appeared on Charlene’s chest.

  “Uh, Charlene, er, Makita.”

  “Larry Brauer,” said my necklace.

  “Neil Hall,” said Patrick’s image.

  “Marianne Lapierre,” said the camera operator.

  “Stay put,” one of the cops said. “Your building is in lockdown. Try to leave and you will be considered to be fleeing the scene. We are authorized to use deadly force, and being reporters won’t protect you.” They backed out of the room and slammed the door closed behind them.

  “Sheldon?” I subvocalized.

  “I am several miles away at the moment,” he replied. “If there is a Lorannic ship attending, it will be scanning for ships with cloaking fields in the immediate area. And unlike me, it will have weaponry. I have deployed a drone, however, to keep an eye on things.”

  “So what’s happening?”

  “They sent a surprisingly small squad, considering what they are attempting. Perhaps a dozen individuals, for so many floors to cover. I suspect their commander is an insider, which means he may have a military-class cloaking-field detector. Those aren’t small. Watch for anyone carrying what looks like a suitcase and holding a wand. If you see one, the jig is up.”

  I glanced at Patrick, who nodded. He’d gotten the same info. We both reached into our pockets and pulled out the disruptors. I showed the weapon to Charlene. “If we start zapping people, hit the dirt.” Then to Patrick, “Do we wait, or try to make our way out?”

  “We’re cornered here, Jack. Let’s try the invisible way out.” Patrick reached down to his belt and disappeared.

  I smiled briefly at Charlene’s expression. The poor woman was trying to keep a poker face, but she was taking one metaphorical gut-punch after another. I waved my hands in a wax-on/wax-off motion and said, “You didn’t see anything … ” I reached down for my own control, then hesitated. “Charlene, do me a favor. If you get a chance, please play this verbatim on the network—no editing, no spin.” I glanced at Marianne, the camera operator. “Please start recording.”

  Marianne picked up the camera and nodded to me. I looked straight at the lens and said, “Attention, all Covenant member species. The Loranna are attempting multiple system takeovers using conscious A.I.s and are engaging in deliberate species genocide.” I nodded back and Marianne turned off the camera.

  As I activated my belt and disappeared, Charlene turned to her colleague. “Interesting day.” Marianne giggled with perhaps a slight undertone of hysteria.

  Just before I reached the door, I bumped into Patrick. I subvocalized, “How do we keep together?”

  “Damned if I know. This is a major shortcoming for this technology. Maybe we’ll have to give each other updates, like ‘I’m at the door.’”

  I reached for the doorknob, but bumped an arm. “Sorry, I guess that’s you.”

  Patrick grunted an acknowledgment. “I’ll open the door and check the hallway.” The door seemingly opened on its own. “Some people at desks, looking spooked, but no cops. Let’s go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Good question. Roof is too obvious, and it’s another dead end anyway. Down, I think.”