Alien Research

CHAPTER 32

“MY NAME IS UNPRONOUNCEABLE to any of your races,” he nodded toward White and Gower, “but you can call me Algar.”

I swam to the edge of the tank. “You’re not an A-C or from their solar system? And you’re not a human?”

He reached a hand down. “You’re asking or telling?”

“Asking.” I put out my hand and he grabbed it above the wrist.

“No.” He pulled me up. Easily. More easily than Jeff could have. Set me down gently as well. “Interesting choice with the baseball mitt.” He smiled again. “But that’s why I like you. You always make interesting choices.”

Took the mitt and my purse off and put them down while my mind raced. I could think very quickly when I had to, and the feeling of having to was quite strong. “You’re the Operations Team? You’re the Elves?” As I said this, I realized his accent sounded Irish.

Algar grinned. “That’s me. You’re a bright one. Even if I did give you a hint. Lassie.” Got the distinct impression the accent was being faked for my benefit and Algar’s amusement. He patted White on the back. “Come on, there. Time to breathe. You too,” he said to Gower, as he patted his back as well.

“Wait, you’re really an Elf? Or a Leprechaun? Or whatever?”

Algar gave me a look I was used to—the Prove You’re Smarter Than You Sound look. “What do you think I am?”

“Not from around here.” He grinned, but didn’t say anything else. Got another distinct impression—this one was that we weren’t leaving this area without Algar’s approval. And that was likely dependent upon me figuring out what he wanted me to. Always the way.

I looked around. We were in what I was fairly sure was a small reclamation plant. It didn’t stink, for which I was eternally grateful, but it didn’t look like someplace anyone would just hang out for the fun of it, either.

We’d indeed come up through clean water—I could see almost all the way down to the hatch, which was now closed. Our tank was connected to two other tanks, both filled with what looked like clean water. The water level in “our” tank was high and seemed constant, though it looked like one of the other tanks was low and slowly filling back up. Assumed this meant it had been emptying into “our” tank as “our” tank had emptied into the holding room, meaning we’d never have lasted until the water had fully drained out of the pipe.

It was an impressive system but what it was doing was the question. If this actually was a reclamation area, the water needing to be cleaned and filtered appeared to be missing. There were other things missing, too. And there were things here that made no sense, including what looked like a bed off in a far corner of the room, mostly hidden behind the third tank.

“I thought this was water reclamation, but you’re not reclaiming anything, at least, not that I can see.”

Algar shrugged. “I’m reclaiming it. Just because you can’t see it happen doesn’t mean that it’s not real.”

“You sound Irish, but there’s no way you are. Your eyes are wrong for any human or A-C. You’re too strong, and that snapping the fingers thing would make me think you’re magic, only I don’t think you actually are.”

“So, what do you think I am?”

He’d nodded his head toward the others on the platform when he’d told me his real name was unpronounceable, no one had ever mentioned a race of short, strong, people with really bright eyes over in the Alpha Centauri system, and he had powers that seemed unreal. But then again, as was so often said, the higher the technology, the more like magic it appears.

“I think you’re from far, far away. My guess is the galactic core, but that’s only a guess.” After all, the Ancients and Mephistopheles had come from near the core, and they were all extra-special as compared to those of us out here in the boondocks part of the Milky Way.

This earned me another smile from Algar. “Correct.” Wondered if he knew Olga. He’d love her if he didn’t—they were clearly cut from the same Make You Work For It cloth.

“And you’re here to save us from drowning how and why?”

“You were just lucky.”

“I doubt that. So, how is it that you’re the Operations Team? I’ve been told that team works via a spatio-temporal warp using black hole technology.”

Algar nodded. “I do.”

“You, one dude, are the entire Operations Team? You’re not the Elves but the Elf?”

He shrugged again. “It’s a dirty job, but someone’s got to do it.”

“I call shenanigans. I’ve been told, nay, lectured, about how there’s this whole team of A-Cs dedicated to the cleanup cause. Pierre said he’s met them, too.”

“Pierre may think he’s met ‘them,’ but yet you’ve never met a single one of them, have you?”

This was true enough. I’d never met anyone who’d ever said they’d ever been on the Operations Team. Nor had anyone ever mentioned that their dad or mom was, say, on the Operations Team. “You’re saying that everyone’s lying to me? People who have, for the past three-plus years, proven to me on a daily if not hourly basis that they can’t lie? They’ve been aware you’re around and lying like time-tested politicians?”

Algar chuckled. “Oh no, not everyone. Not most, really. It’s rather the other way around. Most believe, truly believe, that there’s a full Operations Team in place.” He helped White and Gower to their feet. “Just a small handful know of my existence. Only those with a right or a need to know.”

“We’re in the middle of a huge attack right now. Any chance you can fix things up with a snap of your magic elvish fingers?”

“Absolutely not.” Said with the calm coolness a person would use when passing on the offer of a refill of Coca-Cola.

“And why is that?”

“Would you like me to explain it for you?” White asked.

Algar shot him an amused glance. “You enjoy the pussyfooting as much as I do.”

“Not when our people’s lives are at stake.”

“They’re always at stake. That’s what makes you all so interesting.” Algar turned back to me. “Yes, I’m an alien race. We’re immortal, or close to it. I’m faster than you can conceive, faster than any A-C could ever hope to be, even if they were born in a Surcenthumain petri dish. My people are Black Hole People.”

“You mean your planet became a black hole?”

“No. I mean our planet is within a black hole. We exist within it. Believe me, it’s a great boon to many things. Speed, strength, and immortality are just part of what comes with being part of the Black Hole People.”

“So why are you here doing everyone’s laundry?” Algar suddenly seemed very interested in helping Adriana into a comfortable sitting position. “Oh, come on. Time, it’s of the essence. And all that. Richard, you feel like sharing?”

“Only if Algar wants to hear my particular spin on his existence.”

Algar rolled his eyes as he turned back to me. “No, I’ve heard it. When you’re immortal, things get dull. So, I . . . journeyed around the galaxy. Stumbled onto Alpha Four back when they thought they were Alpha One and Only. Their king was a good man, trying to get a planet organized and headed into what you’d call their Renaissance Period. Those are always interesting times, so I stuck around and struck a bargain.”

Wanted to ask why a being as powerful as Algar appeared to be needed to bargain with a far less powerful race, but chose to hold the question.

“In order for the people to focus on the important tasks at hand, I agreed to be the one who handled all the grunt work chores, so to speak. In return, I get to hang around and watch. I don’t interfere, and no one but the ruler actually knows I’m here.”

He stopped talking and gave me a pleasant smile. I waited. Nothing more was coming from Algar.

“Really? I’m supposed to buy that line of doublespeak?”

“What do you mean?” Algar sounded mildly offended. Decided not to care.

“No one just hangs around doing the dishes and picking up the poo-poo undies for the hell of it. The only people who do so tend to be parents, and they do it because they love the people they’re picking up after. Or they’re hired to do a job and do it. For pay. Not for grins and giggles. And while I can buy the whole ‘with great power comes great responsibility’ line, what I can’t buy is that you’ve been around for what sounds like hundreds of years without letting on that you are around.”

“Closer to thousands. And a few know,” Algar admitted.

“Because they don’t look shocked out of their minds, I’m betting Richard and Paul know.” They both nodded. “Because you were and are the Supreme Pontifex, right?” More nods. “I want the real story, guys, and I want it now. Official order, and all that,” I added to Algar.

“Algar doesn’t wish to be found,” White said. “So, we provide him with an interesting world to interact and partake in, while he provides us with useful services.”

“Gotcha. You’re a wanted man, a criminal. You’re Loki. Or the Q. Or some combo of both.”

Algar grinned. “In a way, I suppose.”

“Wow, you got those references?”

He nodded. “I watch every show on television, have seen every movie, read every book.”

“Every one?”

“Every one. The good ones, the mediocre ones, the bad ones, and the terrible ones. I’m faster than you can actually conceive and boredom is always a threat.”

“So cleaning up for the A-Cs is, what, a thing you do to pass the time?”

“Pretty much. You’re right, I’m hiding out. However, the crimes I’m accused of are well past your comprehension. They’re crimes of an immortal. And before you waste time trying to figure them out, to make it something you can understand, I disobeyed our Prime Directive more than once. And no, you don’t get to know what that Prime Directive is. Just as with any other accused, I don’t believe what I did was wrong and I don’t feel the punishment will be just. Eternity is long, especially if your prison will be one of sensory deprivation.”

“So how did you come to Earth?”

“Ah, good question. The bloodline had thinned, over time. Power made Adolphus a lunatic, and I don’t enjoy the company of lunatics. Alfred was a good man, and I expected him to bring Alpha Four back to what it should be. However, when Richard and the rest were being exiled and Alfred chose to go with them, I chose to go with him.”

“Adolphus let you go?”

“He had no choice.”

“I can believe that and can’t argue with either your assessment of good old Kitler or Alfred. So Alfred knows about you?”

Algar shook his head. “No. Only the actual ruler knows. Alfred was named for me,” he added with a touch of pride. “But he doesn’t know that, either. It was his grandfather’s wish, as a way of thanking me and keeping me tied to the bloodline. However, fond as I am of my namesake, once here on Earth, it was apparent that Richard was the true leader. As you’ve said more than once, Richard led the people’s hearts and minds. And now Paul does. Though your husband is far more of a king than he would ever want to admit. But until he is king, he won’t know about me.”

“So, you’re also like Santa Claus and see us while we’re sleeping and know when we’re awake?” Contemplated how likely it was that Algar had his own porn channels and they consisted of everyone, all the time. Wondered if I’d ever be able to have sex again. Considered that Algar was basically a hottie and figured I’d find the will to go on and let Jeff keep on giving me the Orgasm Buffet on a regular basis, hunky voyeur or no hunky voyeur. Hey, girls like the bad boys, after all.

“Yes, I can.” He grinned. “I don’t watch you having sex. That pastime got boring a millennium ago. A-Cs aren’t that inventive and humans are worse.”

So much for that fantasy. Ah, well, probably better all the way around. If Algar was telling the truth, which I had no real way of knowing. “Wow, considering what’s out there, I’m sort of surprised to hear that.”

He shrugged. “Trust me. It gets old when it’s always the same old things. And it’s always the same old things. But you all keep on enjoying the same old things, so I can understand why you keep on doing them. Now, you have some grand rescue or something to get back to. Don’t let me detain you.”

“Wait a minute. You’re just shoving us out? How do you know we’re not going to run and share that you’re here?”

“We won’t,” White said quietly. “And Algar knows this.”

“Why won’t we? Who knows besides you and Paul?”

“Gladys. And only Gladys.”

“Hard to keep the Head of Security out of the know,” Algar added. “On this world, anyway. On Alpha Four ‘because I’m the king and I said so’ worked pretty well.”

“Yeah, humans are a lot less willing to not ask the big questions than A-Cs, I guess. But this means that if Gladys knows then Al Dejahl knows.”

White shook his head. “We can’t actually share the information, knowingly or unknowingly, unless we’re in his presence. Algar has . . . ways of preventing it.”

“Memory wipe kind of ways?”

Algar shook his head. “Not a wipe. Similar to how the A-Cs use the gases natural to Earth to manipulate human memories. I can just do it to anyone and don’t need to use anything else beyond what’s inside me. I don’t do it often. It’s part of my agreement.”

“The agreement that prevents us from sharing that Algar is here,” White added.

“Makes sense.” How we could share something if Algar was as powerful as he seemed was a question I didn’t want to ask, lest it had somehow never occurred to anyone else, Algar in particular. “So, why won’t you help us?” I asked our personal god in the machine instead.

“You have a superconsciousness hanging around and you have to ask me that?”

“Yeah, I do. ACE was created and programmed. The way he was created, he’s close to a god. You’re not a god.”

Algar snapped his fingers and he and I were somewhere else. In fact, we were out in the middle of space, in a bubble. “If I take away the bubble that’s protecting us, you die and I don’t. Tell me I’m not a god now.”

I was scared, but a different kind of scared than I’d been in the water. I was the kind of scared that did for me what most fear did for me—it pissed me the hell off.

“Screw you. You’re stronger than me, more powerful than me, but you’re not a god. Gods create and protect, they don’t just destroy.”

Algar snapped his fingers and we were back with the others. I got the impression they weren’t even aware we’d been away. “You’re right,” Algar said, as if we hadn’t moved. “If I did what you wanted me to, though, then I’d move that much closer to god status. Maybe not in your eyes, but in the eyes of most.”

Considered all that I’d just learned, including the fact that Algar was a little bit of a jerk. Maybe more than a little bit. “This isn’t about us as much as it’s about you. You don’t want to do anything too showy because if you do, they’ll find you.”

He jerked. “What do you mean?”

“You’re hiding out. If you helped us, really helped us, that would send up a flare to the people hunting you down. They’d come and take you, and if you could fight them, you’d have done that already, meaning either they’re stronger than you or there are just so many more of them that you don’t stand a chance against them. That’s why you aren’t helping us beyond doing something that everyone but, what, three people thinks is being done by regular old A-Cs. You’re hiding in plain sight, in that sense.”

He smiled slowly. “Of all of the cute little apes who’ve made good on this planet, I can say with confidence that you’re my favorite.”

“And of all the Mötley Crüe songs out there, I can say with confidence that the one that fits you best is ‘MF of the Year.’”

White and Gower both winced. Perhaps telling the most powerful being around that you thought he was the jerk of jerks wasn’t all that wise.

But Algar threw his head back and laughed. “The start of a beautiful friendship.”