Chapter 6:
It was the first time in a fair bit the whole of Mike Stack's family was gathered in one spot. Valerie was the youngest of his generation, and all of the older members of the family had spoiled her as a child. It was natural for them to all want to be there to see her graduate college and become an adult. Silvia, who'd begun going to temple again after years of going to church with Bill Sr., had invited the rabbi, and now he offered a prayer over the household.
Taking that with good grace, Bill Sr. was happy to offer an Amen like everyone else. He was trying. Lucy could see he still loved Silvia, and he was trying to mend fences. She found that, in spite of his flaws, she was starting to like Mike's dad. The older man seemed to be accepting her just fine as she was. It was Mike's brother that she wanted to strangle. He'd been making subtly snide comments all evening–to the point where Mike had come close to losing his temper. Bill Jr. had made sure everybody who came through that door knew she wasn't human.
Of course it absolutely fried him that most there just seemed to take that in stride. Lucy did her best to ignore him, and pretty soon he was marginalized and all but forgotten while Lucy expounded on her rather eclectic family. She had a hundred stories about the people she'd left in Copper Springs when she moved to Bellwood, and a hundred more about the Tennyson clan. With Ben now the de-facto public face of the Plumbers, everyone in the house was fascinated by him.
With the wine and food flowing, and just about everybody in the family present, it was as good a time as any for Mike to propose. Now he shouted for everyone to quiet down as he took Lucy's hand. "I got an announcement to make," said the young policeman. Lucy was blushing to her hair when Mike slipped the little box out of his pocket. Kneeling down there in front of his speechless family, Mike popped the little box open, asking, "baby, will you marry me?" Lucy was silent a moment, her face red, and her eyes darting back and forth. For a moment, he was afraid she'd say no. Then, just when he figured he'd start turning blue, the pretty blonde jumped into the air and squealed, "yes! Oh, yes!" For a long minute or so, Lucy bounced up and down, shouting, "yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!" It was the silliest thing he'd ever seen in his life, and he absolutely adored her for it.
When his beautiful bride had calmed down, Mike was finally able to slip the ring on her finger. Getting to his feet again, Mike gathered his fiancé in with his right arm and held her tight. She was crying all over him, and she wasn't the only one. Val was simultaneously crying and elbowing her boyfriend, and Silvia was in full-fledged meltdown, blubbering into a handkerchief. The only sour face there was Mike's brother. While Mike and Lucy kissed, Bill Jr. took a swig from his glass of whiskey.
Rabbi Paul Moskiewicz congratulated the young couple. Shaking Mike's hand, he offered, "you'd be welcome to have the ceremony in the temple, Michael. We'd be delighted..." At Mike's nervous look, Aunt Edith reminded him, "you are half-Jew, Mikey..." Turning to Lucy, Rabbi Paul asked, "what denomination are you, Lucille?" Blushing, Lucy answered, "agnostic..." It was clear from his expression that the rabbi didn't approve. His son, Steve, intervened, announcing, "agnostic is not atheist, dad. Lucy just hasn't chosen a way to talk to God. Let her be..." "Alright, alright, Steve," said the older man. "But you're welcome with us, young lady."
Lucy thanked them both. Then Mike took her hand and led her out on the back porch. "Sorry about that," he offered. Lucy twined her fingers in his and answered, "I'm flattered that everybody wants to include me." There was an undercurrent of fear in Copper Springs and had been since before Lucy was born. Her friends and neighbors had always feared discovery, in spite of living in one of the most accepting of countries on Earth. Half the men in town had hidden out in Canada during the Vietnam war in fear not of the war, but of being injured and found out.
When she yawned, he asked, "how you holding up, babe?" "Side's still sore," she admitted, and she was exhausted. She was really looking forward to bedding down. Slipping his arms around her, Mike whispered, "hang in there, baby. Ma'll start kicking 'em out soon." "How are you doing on the couch," asked Lucy? She didn't like having him on the couch while she was in his bed. Smiling, he reminded her, "honey, I didn't get beat up yesterday..." "Hahaha *Snort*," laughed Lucy! He loved that laugh.
True to form, Silvia began making noises about cleaning up and getting together again later. It didn't take much prodding for most to get it. In dribs and drabs people slipped out to their cars and got on the road home. The last sticky wicket was Mike's aunt Fran, who's stubborn refusal to take a hint almost had Silvia screaming at her. A timely bout of yawning from Lucy finally convinced her to call it a night.
When the two lovers rose early the following morning, Lucy was feeling much better, and she was able to wash and dress herself without help. Jumping into Helen's beater van, the two drove down to the old precinct house to get to work. Mike even swung past his favorite coffee-shop for a couple of cups of java on the way. Sipping hot coffee and smiling, the two went up into the old precinct house to find it a hive of activity.
"Weeeelll," announced Helen. "You two look happy." Nodding at Lucy, Molly opined, "they should be. I guess we should expect invitations..." Giving them that beautiful, sunny smile and blushing to her hair, Lucy nodded. Helen grimaced a moment, and Lucy knew she was thinking about Manny. Shaking that off, Helen reached out and hugged her, saying, "congratulations." She even kissed Lucy on the cheek for good measure. Mike went into the captain's office to get to work, while Lucy checked in with her friends to see how things were progressing.
Towards mid-morning, the sound of the door opening announced the return of the NYPD's contribution to their effort. Moments later, four figures reached the top of the stairs. All four had come dressed for plain-clothes work, and they were all a bit anxious. The old precinct had changed quite a bit since Mike's hand-picked squad had last seen it. There were brand new doors. The place was cleaned up. Brand new furniture filled the squad room.
And there was a pack of newcomers.
For Tim Diggler, it was a bit of an awakening. Half the people in that room were aliens, and they came in half a dozen variations. Rubbing elbows with them were a pack of humans that wouldn't have looked out of place in any neighborhood in the Big Apple. "Not in Kansas anymore," mumbled the big man. "But who's Toto," asked Reese? Nick waded right in. He'd been here when the newcomers first arrived. Walking up to the pretty blonde in the high-tech jumpsuit, he greeted her with, "morning, Molly." "Nick," replied Molly. Nick made the introductions, "fellas, this is Molly Gunther. She runs their tactical team. Molly, these are Tim, Reese, and Joe." "Mornin'," responded Molly.
Mike came out of his office then, announcing, "morning briefing in ten." The four officers turned for the squad room. Lucy intercepted them. "First things first," said the pretty alien girl. She had a pair of diminutive aliens with her. One held an object rather like a camcorder. The other held a device like a rivet gun. "It's a precaution," announced Mike. "All the Plumbers have implanted chips containing their identifying information. We've been implanting similar tech in every BPD police officer." Warily, Joe asked, "why?"
As he scanned one of the humans, Blukic announced, "so the Lenopan have no reason to replace you. The one called 'Tim' is clean..." "Lenopan," asked Reese? As if in answer, Lucy grabbed Reese's hand and changed herself into an identical copy. The NYC cop jumped back in startlement. All four cops were staring with slack jaws. Mike's girl is an alien, thought Nick! In a perfect rendition of Reese's voice, Lucy explained, "they only need to touch you to get your DNA. The chips tell us that you're you, and they fry themselves if you become deceased..." As she transformed back to the pretty face they remembered, the alien woman said, "everybody in this room has been chipped. Until the NYPD can put together a program to chip all their officers, trust no-one."
Nick asked the obvious, "how do we check the chips?" Fergi replied, "give me your badge, please..." Reluctantly, Nick turned over his shield. The little alien put the badge into a machine. As the four cops looked on, the machine welded a tiny device into the back of his badge. "Your badge will vibrate in the presence of someone who has been chipped," said Fergi. "Simply tap the surface to shut off the alert." She handed the badge back to Nick.
Slipping his shield back in his wallet, Nick stepped forward to be chipped. Tim went next, and then Joe. Reese, who was still a little ambivalent about all of this, had to be prodded. In the end, it was the feeling that she was already a little pregnant with this that decided her. As Driba applied the injector to her arm, a voice at the bottom of the stairs announced, "can I come in?" Lucy turned to find the young patrolman who's life she'd saved waiting down there. "Sure," said Lucy. "Come on up."
The young man climbed the stairs in just three strides. Giving Lucy a sheepish smile, he said, "I... uh... Well, I heard that you guys were putting together a unit. I want in. I want to help." "How old are you, kid," asked Tim? "Twenty," said the young man. He wasn't old enough to drink. He wasn't even old enough to take his service-pistol home. "Look," said the young man. "Ray was my friend. I... His old lady and kids... they got nobody. I want to see those fuckers pay for what they did to him." "Ok," said Lucy. "Give Fergi your badge and get scanned."
Minutes later, the entire team filed into the old conference room to hear what Mike had to say. Tim and Joe both whistled at all the technology that had been crowded in there. Taking seats near the front, they settled in for what was sure to be an interesting show. "Alright, everybody," announced Mike. "Let's get started. We got a lot to get done today and little time to do it." Pressing a button on the table in front of him, he activated a hologram.
"As you've all seen on the tube, there was an incident on Saturday, in which a patrolman lost his life," said Mike. "Three extra-terrestrials involved in a narcotics-smuggling and distro operation murdered Patrolman Ray Fuentes during a surveillance operation." Reese cringed at the sight of the badly mutilated body. "That's what we're up against," said Mike. "These guys are packing firepower beyond anything even the US military can come up with. Our current vests are useless." Reese's queasy feeling grew. Tim asked the obvious, "what do we do, then?" "There's more, Tim," sighed Mike. "I'm just getting started."
Tim goggled. There was more?! What could be worse than facing down kevlar-shredding ray-guns? Mike dropped the other shoe, announcing what the young patrolman already knew. "The assailants were wearing standard Incursean combat-uniforms–designed to stand up to the same punishment they dish out," explained Mike. "They're immune to penetration from our standard 9mm pistols..." "What about +P+ ammo," asked Nick? "I know it's not accepted issue, but we can go buy at a gun-store ourselves."
Driba announced, "Incursean uniforms are manufactured out of shear-thickening polymer fabric. The impact of blunt force is absorbed in temporarily converting the fabric from a semi-fluid state to a solid and then dissipated as heat." Which made no sense at all to anyone other than Blukic and Fergi. "In any event, your crude projectile weapon will not serve to penetrate Incursean body-armor," said Driba. "'zat a fact," grumbled Nick. "It is, Officer," rumbled Blukic.
"The Department of Justice along with the DoD is working on something suitable to handle the problem," said Mike, "but at the moment, the best we can do is aim for the eyes or the extremities. Since the job of the local officers is to investigate and arrest, this shouldn't be a problem..." "You're saying you don't want us to confront them," demanded Joe? "I'm saying I don't want you going home to Kerry in a box, Joe," replied Mike. "Nobody here is a consistent enough marksman to make that shot every time when they're not under duress. We're going to treat these guys just like what they are–wanted felons with weapons and the will to use them. I think every cop here knows that you call SWAT for that." Mike nodded at Molly.
Nick knew he was right, but it still sat uneasily in his stomach to let outsiders do the heavy lifting in his town. With an unhappy sigh, he subsided. Moving on, Mike said, "we've had a little success working with the plumbers on an armor recipe that can keep you alive if you're hit once..." Holding up a tactical vest, Mike said, "we worked with the suppliers of the BPD's body armor to come up with this, and we tested it out against a captured Incursean firearm. It's lightweight ceramic. It's rigid, and it's not concealable, but it can keep you alive. We've been in talks with the guys who supply dragon-skin armor to the military on something that might have multi-hit protection, but this is what we got for now." "Better'n nothing," muttered Tim.
Setting the armor down, Mike moved on to the biggest piece of the briefing. "The man the narcs were chasing is known as Chico. Real name: Marques Flores. He used to run with the Latin Kings before he pissed off the Inca and got tagged with a TOS order. We should have found him in the East River, but somebody's been taking care of him..." "Incurseans," muttered Joe. He thought he would start to hate that name after a while.
"From what the narcs have gathered, Chico's been their go-between," explained Mike. "He arranges deals with other disaffected hoods in the Independent Pharmaceutical biz. He gets them product, they hump it on the streets, he collects the cash and floats it back up to the frogs." "What do they do with it," asked Reese? "That we don't know," replied Mike. "But I intend for us to find out. Alright, Lucy? Take over."
Mike stood aside for his lovely fiancé. She was especially pretty this morning, rocking some hip-hugging grey slacks, pumps, and a burgundy blouse she'd picked up Saturday morning. Lucy clicked the clicker, showing them a picture of an Incursean. "That's the face of the enemy," said she. "Incursean, frog, toad, all the same. They're the guys making trouble." The young patrolman put his hand up and asked, "didn't the US sign a treaty with them?" "They did," allowed Lucy. "With the legitimate Incursean Empire. Empress Attea's uncle, Vanos, is attempting to stage a coup against his niece, and he needs money and guns to do it. We're up against his people."
Moving on, Lucy said, "this is a standard Incursean plasma pistol. It packs enough power to vaporize an eighth of an inch of steel on contact. Keep that in mind if you find yourself in need of hard cover. A car may or may not save your butt. Thirty shots without reloading. Approximately half a second between shots. They're slow and deliberate. You may be able to overwhelm them with massed fire. They typically don't wear helmets, so their heads are vulnerable. They're typically little shits, so they tend to stand out in a crowd, even wearing coats."
Clicking the clicker, she announced, "known weaknesses include strong allergic reactions to certain scents. Their noses are really sensitive. Pepper spray might flatten them. We don't know for sure yet, though, so I wouldn't rely on it." She moved on to the next bit of fun. "This is what my people look like in our natural state," said she. "We can alter the structure of our bodies on a cellular level to look like anybody we want. Vanos has hired Lenopan in the past to work as infiltrators and spies. I expect him to do so again. Anybody you know can be replaced. Say nothing of what you see here. Speak only to official contacts. You've been warned..."
Moving on, Lucy got into a quick discussion about Lenopan anatomy. "Any Lenopan can thin out his body tissue and compact his organs, shrinking his vitals and making a kill-shot much more difficult..." Mike added, "I personally put fifteen rounds into one o'these guys and he kept comin'..." Nick blurted, "you better not piss Lucy off, then..." Everybody had noticed the ring on Lucy's finger. The room erupted in laughter as both Lucy and Mike blushed to their hair. "That pretty much is everything we know," said Lucy. "Now we need to hear your thoughts..."
Ironically it was the young patrolman who opened the discussion. "We need to go to Chico's block," said the young man. "Ray used to say that everything you want to know about some guy's on the block where they grew up." "Ray was a smart guy," opined Mike. "I tell you what, officer..." "Fascziewski," said the young man. "Tom Fascziewski." "Tom," said Mike, "I want you to go down, canvass Chico's neighborhood. Bring back everything you can..."
"Shouldn't we interview the prisoner," asked Joe? "I'll volunteer for that..." "Done," agreed Mike. "I'll go to narcotics and see what they know," said Nick. "No need to reinvent the wheel." "Giant walking frogs should attract attention," announced Reese. "Maybe we should see if there's anything on the tip line." Since she'd suggested it, Mike gave it to her. Nick asked, "what are our colleagues going to be doing?" "Good question, good question," said Mike, as he adopted a thoughtful pose. Truth be told, he and Lucy were trying to limit Plumber involvement to the job of rounding up the frogs.
As he thought his way through that, Nick announced, "Helen can come with me to narcotics." That surprised the little speed-freak, but she didn't say no. "I'll go with Tom," said Lucy. "Alright," said Mike. "Molly? Wanna head to Riker's?" "Might as well," said the Plumber girl. "Eventually we'll want to grab him and bring him here." "Ok, Tim," said Mike. "Looks like you and me are headed to the evidence lockup and the morgue."