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Back at 504 Battery Drive, Queens
By the time K reached the bubble office at the center of MiB HQ, Zed was wearing that 'Are we feeling screwed yet?' grin that always meant things were about to get worse.
"Just got word from the Annelid ambassador. Their delegate to the Remilians came back in a Ziplock bag. So guess who I just assigned to clean up the mess?"
K suggests Zed do something which, while quite easy for Annelids, is not generally possible for Terran vertebrates. Zed just chuckles.
Actually K can't complain. It's not like the Guggenheim Museum is just going to unscrew *itself* out of the Manhattan bedrock. *Somebody's* got to take care of it, and turning the problem over to a bunch of over-caffeinated worms from space was always going to be a long-shot.
Zed tosses him the updated dossier on the Guggenheim case, while he moves on to the next topic: "So what about this Milliways freak show?"
K shrugs. "No immediate threat that I can see. Unlicensed as hell, and only a couple of steps away from blowing themselves to bits. But it's not like we're going to be getting a mob of them setting up camp in the visitors' lounge. Not when they have multiple Earths to choose from. And I have to tell you, Chief, for multi-dimensional intelligence, we've never had a better resource."
Zed grunts. "One look at those preliminary specs for the proton pack, and half the guys in Tech are ready to have your baby. How'd our Spectral Analyzer go over with Stanz?"
Another shrug. "They've got better. Knowing him, I'll get an improved model back in a couple of weeks. Venkman gave me some odd readings too. Something's going on with that guy, but damned if I know what it is yet."
"You get the Horta profile into the database?"
"Yeah. Out-of-date already, though. She turned into a mermaid last week."
"She--? Fucking Milliways."
"That's just what *they* say."
"All right, keep on filing reports. And get on that Guggenheim case. Damien Hirst was hassling me again. Had to sit through a twenty-minute rant about what a pain-in-the-ass aliens can be."
"Like *he* should talk."
"No shit."
By the time K reached the bubble office at the center of MiB HQ, Zed was wearing that 'Are we feeling screwed yet?' grin that always meant things were about to get worse.
"Just got word from the Annelid ambassador. Their delegate to the Remilians came back in a Ziplock bag. So guess who I just assigned to clean up the mess?"
K suggests Zed do something which, while quite easy for Annelids, is not generally possible for Terran vertebrates. Zed just chuckles.
Actually K can't complain. It's not like the Guggenheim Museum is just going to unscrew *itself* out of the Manhattan bedrock. *Somebody's* got to take care of it, and turning the problem over to a bunch of over-caffeinated worms from space was always going to be a long-shot.
Zed tosses him the updated dossier on the Guggenheim case, while he moves on to the next topic: "So what about this Milliways freak show?"
K shrugs. "No immediate threat that I can see. Unlicensed as hell, and only a couple of steps away from blowing themselves to bits. But it's not like we're going to be getting a mob of them setting up camp in the visitors' lounge. Not when they have multiple Earths to choose from. And I have to tell you, Chief, for multi-dimensional intelligence, we've never had a better resource."
Zed grunts. "One look at those preliminary specs for the proton pack, and half the guys in Tech are ready to have your baby. How'd our Spectral Analyzer go over with Stanz?"
Another shrug. "They've got better. Knowing him, I'll get an improved model back in a couple of weeks. Venkman gave me some odd readings too. Something's going on with that guy, but damned if I know what it is yet."
"You get the Horta profile into the database?"
"Yeah. Out-of-date already, though. She turned into a mermaid last week."
"She--? Fucking Milliways."
"That's just what *they* say."
"All right, keep on filing reports. And get on that Guggenheim case. Damien Hirst was hassling me again. Had to sit through a twenty-minute rant about what a pain-in-the-ass aliens can be."
"Like *he* should talk."
"No shit."