alone.”
“I was thinking I’d just grab the receptionist and tell her all about it,” Amy said, sarcasm knob headed to eleven.
“What if they ask us about it during the test?” Len asked.
“That’s a good question,” Chuckie said slowly. “They shouldn’t . . .”
“Who else knows about those pictures? Or should I ask who doesn’t know?” I prayed my father was firmly on the side of “doesn’t know.”
“From our side, only those of us in the car and Mister Joel Oliver,” Jeff said.
White coughed. “I have no idea what you’re all talking about.” True enough, he hadn’t been in the room when Armstrong had shared.
Everyone looked uncomfortable. Kyle was already blushing, Christopher was looking at his hands, Amy was staring at the ceiling, and I didn’t have to look to see the expressions on Jeff‘s and Chuckie’s faces—they were right next to me and I could feel their embarrassment.
I opened my mouth, but Len beat me to it. “Senator Armstrong has faked dirty pictures of Kitty and Mister Reynolds. Mister Joel Oliver gave Mister Reynolds the head’s up and he advised Ambassador Martini, which is why everyone’s calm. Ambassador Martini isn’t sure if the senator is trying to blackmail us or help out.” < {t.e="Times/p>
“Succinctly put. Thanks, Len. So, Richard, it’s a spin on our usual fun and frolic.”
“Ah. I’ll have to examine the pictures at another time.” White looked as though he was really trying very hard not to laugh. “I think I might have to insist, safety of the mission and the Embassy and all that.”
“Great,” Jeff said with a half growl. “You love to torture me, don’t you, Uncle Richard?”
White did laugh now. “As much as I can, Jeffrey. As much as I can.”
CHAPTER 9
N ASA BASE WAS SEVERAL MILES from the Martini estate, but it didn’t take us too long to get there. We had enough time to fill White in fully and confirm that Chuckie didn’t know who else might have copies of the dirty pictures while listening to Steel Panther’s “Death to All But Metal” and, to apparently ensure all the musical bases were covered, Culture Club’s “Church of the Poison Mind,” and then we were there.
Unlike the last time we visited, we went to a normal reserved parking lot, checked in at reception, and walked through the halls to get to our desired location. There were plenty of security folks around, as well as a variety of NASA personnel bustling about, and none of them tried to kill any of us, nor was a mad bomber tossing explosives from out of nowhere.
Sure, our former mad bomber was now the Head of Imageering, but Serene had been the bad guys’ first Surcenthumain test subject, so it wasn’t really her fault. And Mom, Chuckie, Alfred, and others had removed the remaining bad ones out of NASA’s Barrel of Security Bad Apples, so there was no reason for me to be jumpy.
Only I was.
“What’s wrong?” Jeff asked me quietly as we waited at an elevator bank we’d reached by wandering the rat maze that were the hallways of NASA Base. This wasn’t my favorite place on Earth to visit. I wasn’t hungry, thankfully, but I still felt like I would, ultimately, find either a big piece of cheese or a steel trap whenever we reached our destination.
“I think I’m having flashbacks.”
“Ah.” He rubbed the back of my neck. “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll all be fine and heading home shortly.”
The elevator arrived and Chuckie insisted we all pile in together. Nine people in an elevator is a lot, especially when most of them are big guys, but I was okay being smooshed up between Jeff, White, Len and Kyle. Jeff had made sure Buchanan and Chuckie were on the other side of the car, which was sort of on the sweet side of his jealousy meter.
Once we were all in the elevator, instead of pushing a button for one of the floors, Chuckie used a special keycard. A panel I hadn’t realized was there opened and a keypad slid out. He entered a
“I was thinking I’d just grab the receptionist and tell her all about it,” Amy said, sarcasm knob headed to eleven.
“What if they ask us about it during the test?” Len asked.
“That’s a good question,” Chuckie said slowly. “They shouldn’t . . .”
“Who else knows about those pictures? Or should I ask who doesn’t know?” I prayed my father was firmly on the side of “doesn’t know.”
“From our side, only those of us in the car and Mister Joel Oliver,” Jeff said.
White coughed. “I have no idea what you’re all talking about.” True enough, he hadn’t been in the room when Armstrong had shared.
Everyone looked uncomfortable. Kyle was already blushing, Christopher was looking at his hands, Amy was staring at the ceiling, and I didn’t have to look to see the expressions on Jeff‘s and Chuckie’s faces—they were right next to me and I could feel their embarrassment.
I opened my mouth, but Len beat me to it. “Senator Armstrong has faked dirty pictures of Kitty and Mister Reynolds. Mister Joel Oliver gave Mister Reynolds the head’s up and he advised Ambassador Martini, which is why everyone’s calm. Ambassador Martini isn’t sure if the senator is trying to blackmail us or help out.” < {t.e="Times/p>
“Succinctly put. Thanks, Len. So, Richard, it’s a spin on our usual fun and frolic.”
“Ah. I’ll have to examine the pictures at another time.” White looked as though he was really trying very hard not to laugh. “I think I might have to insist, safety of the mission and the Embassy and all that.”
“Great,” Jeff said with a half growl. “You love to torture me, don’t you, Uncle Richard?”
White did laugh now. “As much as I can, Jeffrey. As much as I can.”
CHAPTER 9
N ASA BASE WAS SEVERAL MILES from the Martini estate, but it didn’t take us too long to get there. We had enough time to fill White in fully and confirm that Chuckie didn’t know who else might have copies of the dirty pictures while listening to Steel Panther’s “Death to All But Metal” and, to apparently ensure all the musical bases were covered, Culture Club’s “Church of the Poison Mind,” and then we were there.
Unlike the last time we visited, we went to a normal reserved parking lot, checked in at reception, and walked through the halls to get to our desired location. There were plenty of security folks around, as well as a variety of NASA personnel bustling about, and none of them tried to kill any of us, nor was a mad bomber tossing explosives from out of nowhere.
Sure, our former mad bomber was now the Head of Imageering, but Serene had been the bad guys’ first Surcenthumain test subject, so it wasn’t really her fault. And Mom, Chuckie, Alfred, and others had removed the remaining bad ones out of NASA’s Barrel of Security Bad Apples, so there was no reason for me to be jumpy.
Only I was.
“What’s wrong?” Jeff asked me quietly as we waited at an elevator bank we’d reached by wandering the rat maze that were the hallways of NASA Base. This wasn’t my favorite place on Earth to visit. I wasn’t hungry, thankfully, but I still felt like I would, ultimately, find either a big piece of cheese or a steel trap whenever we reached our destination.
“I think I’m having flashbacks.”
“Ah.” He rubbed the back of my neck. “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll all be fine and heading home shortly.”
The elevator arrived and Chuckie insisted we all pile in together. Nine people in an elevator is a lot, especially when most of them are big guys, but I was okay being smooshed up between Jeff, White, Len and Kyle. Jeff had made sure Buchanan and Chuckie were on the other side of the car, which was sort of on the sweet side of his jealousy meter.
Once we were all in the elevator, instead of pushing a button for one of the floors, Chuckie used a special keycard. A panel I hadn’t realized was there opened and a keypad slid out. He entered a
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