Aliens Abroad Read online

  Rave reviews for the Alien novels:

  “From alternate realities to alternate galaxies, Koch takes us on the wildest adventures. But it is the camaraderie between the characters that keeps the over-the-top tale grounded and compelling.”

  —RT Book Reviews (top pick)

  “Koch still pulls the neat trick of quietly weaving in plot threads that go unrecognized until they start tying together—or snapping. This is a hyperspeed-paced addition to a series that shows no signs of slowing down.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Aliens, danger, and romance make this a fast-paced, wittily written sf romantic comedy.”

  —Library Journal

  “Gini Koch’s Kitty Katt series is a great example of the lighter side of science fiction. Told with clever wit and non-stop pacing . . . it blends diplomacy, action and sense of humor into a memorable reading experience.”

  —Kirkus

  “The action is nonstop, the snark flies fast and furious. . . . Another fantastic addition to an imaginative series!”

  —Night Owl Sci-Fi (top pick)

  “Ms. Koch has carved a unique niche for herself in the sci-fi-romance category with this series. My only hope is that it lasts for a very long time.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “This delightful romp has many interesting twists and turns as it glances at racism, politics, and religion en route . . . will have fanciers of cinematic sf parodies referencing Men in Black, Ghost Busters, and X-Men.”

  —Booklist (starred review)

  “There’s a reason why this series is so popular and it’s because there’s nothing else out there in the universe like it.”

  —Under the Covers

  DAW Books Presents GINI KOCH’s Alien Novels:

  TOUCHED BY AN ALIEN

  ALIEN TANGO

  ALIEN IN THE FAMILY

  ALIEN PROLIFERATION

  ALIEN DIPLOMACY

  ALIEN VS. ALIEN

  ALIEN IN THE HOUSE

  ALIEN RESEARCH

  ALIEN COLLECTIVE

  UNIVERSAL ALIEN

  ALIEN SEPARATION

  ALIEN IN CHIEF

  CAMP ALIEN

  ALIEN NATION

  ALIEN EDUCATION

  ALIENS ABROAD

  ALIENS LIKE US

  (coming soon from DAW)

  Copyright © 2018 by Jeanne Cook.

  All Rights Reserved.

  Cover art by Lindsey Look.

  Cover design by G-Force Design.

  DAW Book Collectors No. 1780.

  Published by DAW Books, Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, NY 10014.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious.

  Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Nearly all the designs and trade names in this book are registered trademarks. All that are still in commercial use are protected by United States and international trademark law.

  Ebook ISBN: 9780756412845

  DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED

  U.S. PAT. AND TM. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES

  —MARCA REGISTRADA

  HECHO EN U.S.A.

  PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.

  Version_1

  To absent friends, gone but never forgotten, always in my heart.

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Rave Reviews for the Alien Novels

  Also by Gini Koch

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  Chapter 95

  Chapter 96

  Chapter 97

  Chapter 98

  Chapter 99

  Chapter 100

  Chapter 101

  Chapter 102

  Chapter 103

  Chapter 104

  Chapter 105

  Chapter 106

  Chapter 107

  Chapter 108

  Chapter 109

  Chapter 110

  Special Preview of Aliens Like Us

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Well, this book was the latest I’ve ever been, as you know if you were waiting for it on its first scheduled release date. Or even its second. My bad. But then again, as Kitty knows and all y’all should by now, Life Happens and it really loves to get in the way of what you had planned.

  Among the plans Life insisted upon changing is that, by the time you read this, I
will no longer live in the Southwest but will be living in the Southeast. Because, apparently, if you say you never want to move, the cosmos hears you and gets right on the business of forcing you to move. The moral? Never say never.

  Therefore, and as always, and possibly even more always than usual, I couldn’t have finished this book without the incredible support of Sheila Gilbert, the most amazing and unbelievably patient editor in the world, Cherry Weiner, the most supportive and protective agent out there, Lisa Dovichi, the most dedicated critique partner and best friend there’s ever been, and Mary Fiore, still the best and fastest beta reader in the West and the best mum, too.

  Continuous love and thanks to Alexis Nixon and the other good folks at Penguin Random House and everyone at DAW Books, especially Josh Starr and Katie Hoffman, for being amazing 24/7. Same again to all my fans around the globe, my Hook Me Up! Gang, members of Team Gini new and old with extra smootchies to Team Research, all Alien Collective Members in Very Good Standing, Members of the Stampeding Herd, Twitter followers, Facebook fans and friends, Pinterest followers, the fabulous bookstores that support me, and all the wonderful fans who come to my various book signings and conference panels—you’re all the best and I wouldn’t want to do this without each and every one of you along for the ride. (Yeah, I say that every time. Because it’s true every time.)

  Special love and extra shout-outs to: my distance assistant, Colette Chmiel, my personal assistant, Joseph Gaxiola, and my inventory manager, Kathi Schreiber, for figuring out how to create calm out of my rampant chaos and being my rocks when I need strength and my goofballs when I need laughs—you’re all wonderful and keep me going far more than you realize; Edward Pulley for continually allowing me to steal Joseph away all the time with good grace and being willing to talk about whatever pop culture thing strikes me for hours on end; Brad Jensen, for helping at the drop of a hat and acting like I’m the one doing you a favor for it; Museum of Robots and Model Building Secrets for making such awesome licensed products of my works every time I turn around and being awesome people at the same time; Shawn Sumrall, Amy Thacker, Joseph Gaxiola, Colette Chmiel, Jan Robinson, Craig & Stephanie Dyer, Koleta Parsley, Christina Callahan, Lynn Crain, Mariann Asanuma, Edward Pulley, Archie Bays, Anne Taylor, Terry Smith, Carol Kuna, Richard Bolinski, Duncan & Andrea Rittschof, and Chrysta Stuckless for fun, lovely, and delicious gifts that continue to make the long nights and deadline stress totally worth it; Shawn Sumrall and Joshua Tree Feeding Program, for providing amazing prizes for my big Evening Erotica events year after year; everyone who puts in sweat equity with me at cons, especially Joseph Gaxiola, Kathi Schreiber, Brad Jensen, Brendan Reilly, and Duncan and Andrea Rittschof; Jan Robinson and Robert Palsma for liking everything I do; Javier de Leon, Robert Palsma, Michele Sharik and Brianne Pituley, Scott Johnson, Dan & Emily “Amadhia” King, Oliver & Blanca Bernal, Eric and Jennifer Olson, and Brendan Reilly for many things; Chris “Delicious” Swanson for awesome concert experiences that ensure I still get out of the Casa; Adrian & Lisa Payne, Duncan & Andrea Rittschof, Hal & Dee Astell, Richard Clayton, and Dori Lovers for always showing up and making every event all the better for your presence; the Authors of the Stampeding Herd—Lisa Dovichi, Barb Tyler, Lynn Crain, Hal Astell, Terry Smith, Sue Martin, Teresa Cutler-Broyles, Phyllis Hemann, Rhondi Salsitz, Evan Ramspott, and Celina Summers—once again, our competition and your support kept me going, and I remain proud to pound hooves with every one of you (psst, buy their books); author Sharon Skinner for being my road warrior buddy (psst, buy her books); authors Erin Kellison, Erin Quinn, and Caris Roane for keeping me in pancakes, support, and love (psst, buy their books); and last but not least, author James Ray Tuck, Jr. for tremendous help with relocation (psst, buy his books).

  Last only because that’s where you put the best, thanks to my daughter, Veronica, who helped in many ways, most of them having to do with relocation and keeping me sane about it, and my husband, Steve, who had the champagne on ice for when this book was finally done and who never lost faith that I would finish. I love you both even more than I love the cats. True story.

  AH, TRAVEL.

  In my younger days, I’d said I wanted to see the world. Good thing, because that’s worked out for me. Oh, sure, I saw most of the world while fighting horrible combinations of humans and alien parasites that turned into almost unstoppable and very deadly superbeings but, still, I saw many foreign lands and many more foreign bathrooms.

  Then I got to see the extremely foreign land of Washington, D.C. and interact with the strange people who dwelled there—and who were, as it turned out, much more dangerous than superbeings—up close and far more personally than I’d ever expected or dreamed in my worst nightmares.

  Along the way I married the hottest man on two legs, who just happened to be an alien from the Alpha Centauri system. Hey, it happens. We started our family, protected them and our world from evils domestic, foreign, and out of this solar system, and moved up in the ranks, usually against our mutual will.

  After that, it started to get weird. Not normal weird. What my husband Jeff’s cousin, Christopher White, calls Kitty Weird. I got to change universes with another version of me and she and I got to save each other’s respective worlds and families.

  After I got “home,” I and a bunch of our friends and family were dragged to another planet in another solar system and got to stop a solar civil war, which was fun if you define fun to be “not sure we’ll ever see each other or Earth again” and similar.

  Then the galaxy decided to come calling and suddenly Earth was the new galactic hot spot, where all the cool, “in” aliens want to go to have at least a short vacay, if not to move in permanently. And, somehow, this appears to kind of be my fault.

  And along this particular way, somehow Jeff became the President of the United States. He’s great at it, because he’s a born leader and, since he’s the strongest empath in, most likely, the galaxy, he really and truly cares about everyone. Sometimes that almost kills him, but I’ve gotten really good at stabbing him in his two hearts with a giant needle full of adrenaline to keep him going. Hey, I’m totally a good wife that way.

  On the plus side, these various and sundry alien visits have forced the majority of humanity to embrace their inner Woody Guthrie. On the not so plus side, the small, violent minority of humanity has chosen to embrace their inner Kanye West. So, we’re working on that, but it’s a process. A slow, painful, dangerous process. But we do persevere.

  Meanwhile, in the past year and a quarter I’ve actually gotten to focus on only being a wife, mother, First Lady of the United States, Queen Regent of Earth for the Annocusal Royal Empire, and Galactic Delegate representing Earth in the Galactic Council. Sometimes I even get to sleep, too.

  But Jeff, our kids, and our extended family and friends make it all worthwhile, and I’m feeling like we’re pretty much getting the hang of everything and might, someday soon, even get to take a little vacation. Though knowing my luck, it’ll be a working vacation we aren’t prepared for, going somewhere we’re not wild about going, filled with death, danger, and warfare. You know, somewhere like Detroit.

  That’s right. These are my continuing missions. To be forced to explore strange, new worlds. To meet new civilizations, usually in the middle of some kind of battle. To accidently and sarcastically go where no one has willingly gone before.

  In other words, I’m going to go find Major Tom and hope that David Bowie’s “Space Oddity” will somehow work as a star map.

  CHAPTER 1

  “HELP ME.”

  “Huh?” I’d been having a really great dream, where my husband and I were in Cabo San Lucas without our kids, our family or friends, anyone political, any press, any aliens from any planet, or any paparazzi. We were having sex on the beach, and it was great, and no one was bothering us. At least until someone asked for help.

  “Help me. I’m an alien and need your assistance.�
�

  Well, that left a wide-open field. My husband was an alien—an A-C from Alpha Four in the Alpha Centauri system. His entire huge extended family had been exiled to Earth before Jeff was born and they’d been here for decades. All of them were American citizens, though A-Cs were all over the world. But the voice didn’t sound like any of them.

  Recent events had brought more aliens to Earth, though. We had representatives from every inhabited world in the Alpha Centauri system—and there were a lot of those—here, as well as residents from other solar systems both nearby, galactically speaking, and as far away as the Galactic Core.

  They, too, were scattered all over Earth and the Solaris system—alien relocation for immigrating aliens having been going smoothly, as had terraforming of some of the planets and various-races-forming of the others—because we had all those extra planets and moons we weren’t using and most of these aliens were refugees from some really horrible galactic wars. So Earth was no longer a lonely inhabited planet of one with a single race of aliens living on it in secret, but part of a bustling, expanding planetary system with many different types of aliens hanging out. And more coming by to visit or apply to move in every day. Though not, normally, via my dreams. And the voice didn’t sound like any of them, either.

  That all of this New Age of Intergalactic Harmony stuff had happened in the less than year and a half since Operation Fundraiser had ended in a truly dramatic Zamboni drag race, so to speak, had much more to do with the fact that all the aliens from various solar systems were helping out than that Earth had suddenly leapt into the far Star Trek future on our own. We were still number one with a bullet when it came to being nasty and warlike, but we were definitely reaping the benefits of having made some swell new friends. I just wasn’t in the dream mood to make another new one.

  “I really can’t help you. We have an office of Intergalactic Immigration you might want to apply to. I’m sure they’ll be as excited to talk to you in their dreams as I am.”

  “No. I’m an alien to you but like you.”

  Nice, but the speaker wasn’t saying anything exciting because I’d discovered that people—be they the best-looking humanoids around who happened to have two hearts, superstrength, and hyperspeed, be they giant humanoid slugs or honeybees, be they ethereal cloudlike manta rays or gigantic Cthulhu Monsters from Space, or be they anything and everything in between—were basically people, no matter where they were from, what they looked like, what planet they called home, or who or what they considered God.