Page 37 of Close Encounters of the Hot Kind

"Details. Now."

"Our intelligence is limited at present."

"Limited how?"

"We have detected traces of Grolgath energy signatures across the city, but nothing concrete enough to-"

I slam my fist on the desk. "What's the point of all this surveillance if we can't even track one lousy shapeshifter?"

"Sir, if I may suggest-"

"No, you may not." The image inducer clicks off, relief flooding through my scales. "New project. Draw up a businessmodel for expanding a family-style restaurant into a global franchise."

"Like Kentucky Fried Chicken?"

"Exactly like KFC."

"Sir, about the Grolgath-"

"The Grolgath can wait. This is more important."

"A pizza franchise is more important than-"

"Just do it, Teletran."

"Project the numbers again." I pace in front of the holographic display, my true form reflected in the glass windows. "And add a projection for international expansion by year five."

The figures shimmer and reorganize. Profit margins scroll past my eyes in neat columns.

"At this rate of growth, Papa Marella's would surpass Pizza Hut by 2030." Teletran's voice drips with sarcasm. "Assuming, of course, that Mr. Marella agrees to this radical transformation of his family business."

"Why wouldn't he? Look at these numbers." I gesture at the projection. "The signature sauce alone could generate millions in licensing fees."

"Sir, if financial security is your goal, why not simply provide Miss Marella's family with-"

"They're proud people, these Italian Americans." My claws tap against the desk. "Sam Marella would never accept charity. But he might embrace the idea of having more money than a small country."

"Fascinating." Teletran's holographic head tilts. "In all my years of data collection, no Vakutan has ever gone to such lengths to seduce a human female."

"Print the advertising mock-ups."

"The Grolgath threat-"

"Now, Teletran."

"Very well. Creating mock-ups for 'Papa Marella's Pizza - The Franchise.' Though I must note this behavior is highly irregular for a Veritas operative."

"Just shut up and print."

CHAPTER 13

AILEEN

The scent of fresh basil and oregano hits my nose as I push through the kitchen door. My fight with Varak still burns in my mind, but the familiar comfort of Papa's kitchen soothes the ache.

"Mom? Dad?" My voice echoes against the stainless steel counters.

No answer. Just the soft thump of dough hitting the prep table.

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