Alien Proliferation

members of Centaurion Division.”
    “We’ve had sitting presidents with little kids. I really don’t see what you think is going to happen, other than a lot of diaper changes and feedings. Both sets of our parents are alive, healthy, and practically banging down our doors to be first in line to take baby duty.”
    Chuckie turned around and gave me the “are you crazy, is that your problem?” look. Sure enough, Cantu jumped on it. “So the head of the Presidential Terrorism Control Unit will also be indisposed.”
    “Dude, my mother probably wasn’t indisposed when I was born, let alone now.” By now, if someone shared that Mom had taken down a contingent of terrorists in between contractions, it wouldn’t have surprised me. “I’m really not feeling what it is you’re all going for.” An idea dawned. “Do you want Ch-, ah, Mister Reynolds, to take over or something?”
    Armstrong shook his head. “We’re . . . aware of your close friendship. I’m sure Mister Reynolds, like the rest of those closely associated with Centaurion Division, will be distracted by your baby’s arrival.”
    This was getting ludicrous. Chuckie could multitask better than anyone. And I knew they knew it. They wanted something. But I had no idea what, and I didn’t really get the impression Chuckie did, either.
    “Standard protocols will be in place,” he said firmly. “Commander White will be assuming control of all Field and Imageering if necessary. There are plenty of people to step in if, for some reason, the new parents aren’t available. Either tell us what it is you’re hoping to hear, or stop wasting my time.”
    Cooper smirked. “Got it. I’m satisfied. Everyone else?” There were general nods and assents. “Then we’ll let you get back to whatever it is you do, Reynolds. Enjoy the holidays.” He made a kill gesture and the screen went blank.
    Chuckie went to the door. “Make sure they’re really cut off,” he told Wayne and William. The all clear was given. “Get Commanders Martini and White on-screen as fast as possible, please. Presuming they’re not in the middle of a parasitic attack.”
    He turned back to me. “That was interesting. Any guess as to what they were trying for?”
    “None. That’s your bailiwick.”
    He grimaced. “Yeah. I have no clue. Which makes me very, very nervous.”
    William stuck his head in. “Mister Reynolds, have an issue with getting the Commanders on-screen for you.”

 
    CHAPTER 5
     
    T HE SCREENS LIT UP. There were a lot of explosions going on. Half the screens showed some nasty-looking monsters. The other half showed some really impressive fireworks. I didn’t see any humans or A-Cs I could identify. From what I could tell, though, the monsters were being herded into the Seine.
    “Left side’s real, right side’s the imageering fake, right?” Hey, I liked to be sure.
    “Yes, Commander,” William said. He and Wayne both came into the room, the four of us watching The Creatures That Claimed Paris.
    “There’s something wrong with the superbeings.” I said this because I was thinking of them as monsters. They were, but that wasn’t the normal reaction I had to them. I saw a superbeing as something to kill, not something almost familiar.
    “I agree,” Chuckie said slowly. “Not sure what, though.”
    “They don’t seem as . . . real . . . as the superbeings I’ve seen.” I studied them. “They look a lot alike. Not as alike as the dozen we dealt with in Paraguay, right before Operation Invasion started. Differently alike.”
    Chuckie was used to me, so he didn’t comment on this. “Can you get us close-ups on the superbeings?” he asked William.
    “May I, Commander?” Wayne asked, while his brother complied with Chuckie’s request.
    “May you what?”
    He went to the drawer, pulled out the briefing papers, and handed them to Chuckie. He grinned at my expression. “It was an easy guess where they’d disappeared to.”
    Chuckie thumbed through the papers, a lot faster than I would have. I knew he was reading them. Like everything else, he was top of the class in speed-reading. He grunted after a minute or so. “Interesting. Euro Base had no prior warning of the attack. There were no rage indicators . . . no emotional indicators at all.”
    “Are they real?”
    William put his hands onto the screen. He pulled them away quickly. “Yes. They’re . . . distasteful.” This was the standard imageering reaction to touching