Katherine Allred - Close Contact: An Alien Affairs Novel, Book 2

K iera Smith should eat worms and die.

Yeah, yeah, I know its not the most politic thing for someone in my position to say. But then, I wouldnt be in this position if not for her, now would I?

Just because she saved the Buri from extinction, killed the bad guys, and gave the world Orpheus crystals is no reason for her to ruin my life.

Being a GEP, someone genetically created to do a particular job, just wasnt enough to make me stand out from the crowd of Naturals I worked with. Neither, apparently, was my name, Echo Adams, which was randomly generated by a computer, as all Genetically Engineered Person monikers are, so none of us accidentally end up with the same name. Zin forbid the Naturals should get us confused. We look so much alike, after all.

That was sarcasm, in case youre wondering. I look absolutely nothing like Kiera Smith. My hair is dark brown, my eyes are this weird greenish-gray color with a peculiar black ring around the pupil, and Im average height. In other words, about as far from bombshell material as you can get. Most Naturals use the phrase cute as a button to describe me. Personally, Ive never seen a button I was that enamored of, so I simply clench my teeth and keep smiling.

Unfortunately, the computer that named me had a penchant for Greek mythology from Old Earth. Curiosity being what it is, Id looked the name up and discovered that according to some Natural named Ovid, Echo was a nymph, a great singer and dancer. That I could live with. But she also scorned the love of men which angered a pervert god named Pan, who tore her to pieces and then scattered her all over creation.

As I walked through the halls of Alien Affairs headquarters, I knew exactly how that felt.

But I digress.

Im a party girl. No, that doesnt mean I was created to be a pleasure GEP, only that I spent a lot of time at parties. My creation was commissioned by the Galactic Federations Department of Protocol. I was responsible for planning, hosting, and officiating at ceremonial events for visiting Federation dignitaries and heads of government, as well as coordinating logistics for the visits, making sure they were on time and had everything they needed.

And I was extremely good at what I did.

I loved my job. I loved the hustle and bustle of living in a city that encompassed an entire planet the way Centaurius did, loved being at the center of major universal events and in the know about the latest political intrigue. I loved rubbing elbows with bigwigs from all over the Galactic Federation.

My idea of a good time is three hours at a spa, getting groomed, pampered and massaged, followed by a night of dancing and barhopping with the leader of an obscure planet. Or a planet that wasnt so obscure. And I had no reason to believe that life as I knew it would ever end.

But then, thirty-two months agoinsert ominous music hereKiera Smiths journal was released to the public.

Suddenly there was a mass stampede to the GEP archives, as Naturals the Federation over dug into the origins of every GEP created. And of course, I won the schite-kickers lottery. My creator was none other than the infamous Dr. Gertz himself. Simon Gertz, the geneticist with a God complex who also created Kiera Smith, and did Zin knows what to the GEPs he designed, up to and including built-in psi abilities that no one had ever heard of before.

None of that woo-woo stuff from me, I assured my employer. Im just your average, run-of-the-mill GEP.

But they didnt believe me. They dragged me into the big bosss office, sat me down, and explained they couldnt have a mind reader on staff. Made the hotshot politicians nervous, etc., etc., and yada-yada. Didnt matter one iota that Id never exhibited a trace of psi talent.

Long story short, they sold my indenture to the Bureau of Alien Affairs.

I mean, come on. Me? Visiting newly discovered planets, hobnobbing with primitive aliens and eating Zin knows what, trudging through uncharted wilderness?

I am not a nature girl by any stretch of the imagination. I hate being dirty and hate animals. The thought of tramping through undisciplined flora where bugs abound makes me nauseous.

And yet, here I was, after completing months of grueling physical retrainingthat I was amazingly good at, to my surpriseon my way to a meeting with Dr. Daniels, head of the Bureau of Alien Affairs, to receive my first assignment as their newest and best-groomed agent.

Yes, life sucks, and its all Kiera Smiths fault. My only consolation is that I now know fifty-six ways to kill with one finger if someone pisses me off. Believe me; in my current mood, Im not only dangerous, I could do it without batting an eyelash.

With a sigh, I stopped outside an ornately carved door of real wood bearing a discreet gold plaque engraved with Dr. Danielss name, and rapped sharply three times.

Come in, a voice called, muffled by the doors thickness.

Grasping the handle, I shoved the door open and stalked inside. Id expected to work myself through at least three layers of secretaries before actually reaching Dr. Daniels, and then being made to wait for at least thirty minutes, all of which was standard procedure for the Department of Protocol. Instead, I entered a homey, comfortable, medium-sized office with plush, well-used furniture in muted colors. But I didnt let on like I was surprised. Instead I focused on the person who rose to his feet at my entry.

Dr. Jordan Daniels was an imposing man, tall and lean and nice-looking, despite his advanced cycles and silvered hair. There was a twinkle in his blue eyes that made me wary, like he knew something the rest of us mortals werent privy to.

Id seen him before, although never up close and personal. About a month after my retraining started, I noticed he occasionally showed up and watched whenever I was working on my new and improved bloodletting skills. And it always unnerved me. Which made me even more upset than I already was.

Why was I being singled out, and why did I care?

Since none of the other newly acquired Gertz GEPs got an audience with the boss, I suspected I was about to find out the answer to the first part of that question.

He gestured to a chair across the desk. Agent Adams. Please, have a seat. Im glad we have this opportunity to chat.

I sat and fussily smoothed the lines of the vegan silk business suit Id chosen for this meeting. Not only did the brilliant red color complement my dark hair, but it also made me feel powerful.

When I was as comfortable as possible, I looked up and arched a brow at him. I was ordered to this meeting. Dont try to make it sound like an afternoon tea with someones great-aunt.

With a chuckle, he resumed his own seat. Quite right, Agent Adams. You were ordered here. So, shall we get on with it?

He shuffled through a stack of electronic papers that were in front of him and pulled one from the pile. Here we are. Leaning back in his chair, he studied the data and then peered at me over the top of the sheet.

Did you know that you tested higher for psi ability than anyone weve recruited since Kiera Smith was first tested?

Shock ran through me, tinged with fear. Instantly I shook my head. Your machine must be broken. I dont have any psi ability.

You were tested three times just to be sure, and a different machine was used each time. They cant all be broken.

Then someone fudged the results, I snapped. Dont you think Id have noticed if I could read minds, or move objects without touching them, or see the future? I cant even pick up emotions like your precious Kiera Smith does. It isnt happening and its not going to ever happen.