Agent to the Stars by John Scalzi Read Free Book Online Page A

able to persuade my editors to drop the other nine hottest young agents out of the story. A cover story, Tom.”
    On a normal day of my life, I would have wanted to be on the cover of The Biz about as much as I wanted to run my
tongue over a cheese grater. Today, with an alien in my passenger seat and no clue as to my future in the agency, I wanted to be on the cover of The Biz even less than that.
    â€œThanks, but I’m going to pass,” I said. “I’m not much one for the limelight. I save that for my clients.”
    â€œDo you hear yourself?” Van Doren said. “You talk in perfect pull quote nuggets. Come on.”
    I decided to lie. “I’m late for dinner with my parents,” I said, nodding to the door.
    He reluctantly backed away. “And concerned about family, too. You’re screaming to be made famous, Tom.”
    I smiled, thought about saying something, thought better of it. “I don’t think so, Van Doren. Make Ben famous instead.” I closed the door and walked over to the driver side.
    â€œThink about it, Tom,” Van Doren said, as I got in the car. “I’ll be around when you want to talk.”
    Is that a promise or a threat? I wondered. I waved, started the Prelude, and got the hell out of there.
    Â 
    I got a ticket from the California Highway Patrol, for speeding on the 210.
    â€œThat cop was not at all what I expected,” Joshua said. “Neither Ponch nor John had breasts. I’m going to have to revise my expectations.”
    No kidding.

CHAPTER Five
    â€œ All right,” I said. “Question and answer time.”
    â€œGasp,” Joshua said. “Torture me all you want. But I’ll never tell you the location of the rebel base.”
    Joshua and I were sitting at my dining room table. More accurately, I was sitting at the table; Joshua was sitting on it. Between us was a Pizza Hut carton and the remnants of a large pepperoni pizza. Joshua had eaten four slices. They lay, haphazardly, near the center of his being. I could see the slices slowly disintegrating in an osmotic haze. It was vaguely disturbing.
    â€œYou going to eat that last piece?” Joshua said.
    â€œNo,” I said, turning the carton towards him. “Please.”
    â€œGreat,” Joshua said. A pseudopod extended, folded around the crust edge, and withdrew back into his body. The slice was surrounded and joined its brethren. “Thanks. I haven’t had
anything all day. Carl thought it might be upsetting to you to see food rotting away in the middle of something that looked like dried glue.”
    â€œHe was right,” I said.
    â€œThat’s why he’s the boss,” Joshua said. “Okay. Here’s the rules for the question and answer period: you ask a question, then I ask a question.”
    â€œYou have questions?” I asked.
    â€œOf course I have questions,” Joshua said. “From my point of view, you’re the alien.”
    â€œAll right.”
    â€œNo lying and no evading,” Joshua said. “I think we can be pretty safe with each others’ secrets, because, really, who are we going to tell? Fair enough?”
    â€œFair enough,” I said.
    â€œGood,” Joshua said. “You go first.”
    â€œWhat are you?” Might as well get the big one out first.
    â€œA fine question. I’m a highly advanced and organized colony of single-celled organisms that work together on a macrocellular level.”
    â€œWhat does that mean?” I asked.
    â€œWait your turn,” Joshua said. “How did you get this place? These are nice digs.”
    He was right. They were nice digs. Far better than I could have afforded on my own (until today, that is)—a four-bedroom ranch on three-quarters of an acre, overlooking the valley and abutting Angeles National Forest in the back. Occasionally I woke up and went out back to find a deer in the yard or a coyote digging through