by Rachel Ford
“Councilor,” the alien corrected. “But call me Li. And I do follow; and as much as I wish I could find fault with the theory, I can see none. A rift like they have opened, if left untended, would be insatiable.”
“So you can see why we need to bring the IBTI in on this,” the taxman prompted.
“I don’t know that I do, Alfred. When my youngest offspring was a mere yearling, they would sometimes throw the most remarkable – I think you would call them tantrums. They would smash their toys, and scream, and kick and generally fuss. Many times, they broke toys, and many times I or my respected Getri would have to piece them back together. But we did not consult the yearling: they had not the capacity to appreciate the scope of their destruction, nor to undo what they had done.”
Alfred might have appreciated the analogy, and how fitting it was for Winthrop and his merry band of imbeciles – himself and Nance notwithstanding, of course – except for the stakes. “I promise you, they understand the scope of what they’ve done, Li. Their worlds are in danger as much as yours. All of life is at risk. They get it.”
“Even so, I remain unconvinced that they have the capacity to undo what they have done.”
“I don’t know if they do, either,” Nancy said. “But isn’t it worth hearing them out, at least? Even if they don’t know anything, we will be no worse off than we already were.”
“That’s true,” Alfred agreed. “You can’t get deader than dead.”
“And maybe, if we all work together, we’ll catch something that we won’t on our own.”
Li considered their words for a long time. Then, at length, they said, “Very well. You are my dear friends, and we are all in peril. Though I cannot find any reason to trust in your hopes, you have as much right to fight for your survival as anyone. And if you think your best fight lies with the IBTI, then I will do what a good friend must: I will advance your cause.”
“Thank you, Li.”
“Of course. But I must warn you: though I will do what I can, I can make no promises. Premier Ki’Altan is their own person.”
Alfred nodded, wondering if it would be indelicate to hint that perhaps Li should talk to their child, and Ki’Altan’s partner, first.
But the alien tackled the matter before he did. “I do not even know that I will be able to persuade Litri.
“Ah. I forget: you have not yet met my offspring, or my partner. Litri is the life mate of Ki’Altan.”
“No,” Nancy said, “we have not. But I very much look forward to it.”
“Well, you shall, though it will be a few years yet in your own timeline. If those IBTI nosebleeds don’t wipe us all out, at any rate.
“And you shall meet my Litri too. But I’m afraid, in my timeline, it is too late to meet dear Getri. They passed away fifteen seasons ago now.”
The alien’s expression remained stoic, but their words carried a note of grief that was unmistakable to the taxman’s ears. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh Li – that’s awful.”
“Well, I suppose that is but life, is it not, Miss Nancy? I have had many good seasons. And I have seen winter set on the friends of my youth.” He smiled fondly at them. “Though, through the miracle of technology, I am able to see springs again for some of them, too. But my offspring are grown and settled in their own lives. My Getri lived a full and rich life and changed the lives of many. I could ask for no more than to see them live so long and so happily.
“Their journey ended, as, soon enough, mine will as well.”
Alfred studied the aged figure before him and felt an almost visceral sense of loss at the words. It didn’t make sense, not with the entire multiverse about to go up in flames. But Li couldn’t be dying. It seemed only yesterday they’d been raiding buffets to sate the alien’s monstrous appetite and exploring Oktoberfest together. They’d been the picture of vigor and life.
And now? No, it did not bear thinking about. So Alfred said, “Not for a long time, I hope, my friend.”
Li smiled again, in the same fond way. “I cannot wish the same, Alfred. It is not a bad thing to have lived through one’s life, to have no more need of living. My tasks are finished.”
“But – well, what about your work as councilor? What about your children? Won’t they miss you?”
Li studied him. “No. There are many wise and learned Geejays, and I have not the vanity to pretend that no other can do my work.
“And as for my offspring, my tasks are finished, as I say. They are grown, and settled in their careers, with well-suited life partners – and offspring of their own already, in Getin’s case. They have no more need for me.”
“But they will miss you.”
Li smiled, but there was a sadness in the old alien’s face this time. “I do not think so, Alfred. I am old, older than most. Dear Getri was old when they passed, and I am older still.
“It is not a good thing to grow so old that you become a burden to your offspring. So you see, I do not look with so much abhorrence on my passing as you do.” Then, though, the alien forced a more cheerful aspect onto their features. “But your passing, or the passing and all lives in the multiverse, I cannot abide. We must change this, if it is at all within our power.”
Chapter Seven
Li invited them back to their private quarters – a modest set of chambers, with a kind of study, a kitchenette and a bathroom clustered together, and a bedroom beyond. “Please, make yourselves comfortable.”
Alfred did, glancing about the sparsely decorated quarters. Li had very little in the way of adornments. But four framed certificates hung on the walls, though the taxman could not read the script.
Li must have caught him studying them, because the old alien smiled. “Ah, these are my awards for meritorious contributions in the understanding of interstellar beings. This…” They pointed to one of the frames, “was the first, on my initial arrival on Earth. And these…” Here, they gestured to the next two in the row, “are the follow ups. You may find that you are rather well known on this planet. That is because you will most graciously allow me, at our future meetings, to make you my, well, case study, if you will. Three times: I was able to chart the progression of human courting rituals, reproduction, and life stages.”
Alfred and Nancy exchanged glances. The alien’s over-frank communication style hadn’t disappeared with age, it seemed. “Well…that’s great.”
“Indeed. I think I do not boast when I say that every schoolchild on the planet has heard of you two, thanks to my research.”
“Which is definitely not terrifying at all.”
“And this last one here is from my final journey to your world, when I researched the extended family in human circles: perhaps the most fascinating aspect of my studies. Do you know, your grandson, Tony, is – how do you say it? A ‘jailbird.’”
Alfred laughed nervously, thinking of his brother Tony – or, T-Dog, as the other man liked to refer to himself. T-Dog wasn’t a jailbird, but not because he particularly respected the law – especially, laws regarding possession and use of specific substances. “I think that name’s cursed in my family, to be honest.”
“A jailbird? You’re kidding.”
“Indeed not, Nancy. But, do not despair: he is an outlier, statistically speaking. Eighteen of your grandchildren are high achievers, and only three –”
“Wait a minute,” Nancy interrupted. “Did you say eighteen?”
Li nodded. “Yes: those are, at the time of my last visit, the ones I classified as high achievers.”
“Holy shit.”
“Sugar cookies,” Alfred reminded her.
“How many kids did we have, Li?”
The alien hesitated. “Are you certain you wish to know?”
She glanced at Alfred, and for a moment the pair of them stared at each other. Then, in unison, they shook their heads. “No. No, I don’t.”
Alfred was already starting to panic a little running the numbers and calculating formula and diaper costs. Li had
indicated eighteen high achievers and started to mention three more otherwise classified. Even if that was the extent of it, twenty-one grandkids meant a lot of kids – and a lot of diapers and formula, and college tuitions.
At three kids, each of their children would have to have seven children of their own – which seemed pretty unlikely. So that meant he was looking at at least four kids. He’d read somewhere that the average cost of raising a child was about a quarter of a million dollars. The taxman’s salary was nothing to scoff at, and neither was Nance’s. But neither of them were in a million bucks in spare cash kind of circumstances, either. He was still crunching numbers, coming to the unhappy conclusion that he was going to have to start looking for ways to supplement his income, when Li said, “Alfred?”
The taxman started, realizing he’d missed whatever had come before. “Huh? What?”
“I asked if you required anything before I took my leave?”
“Oh, no. Thank you.”
Li bobbed their head. “Then I will go and seek an audience with the premier. I may seek out Litri first – although…” The alien smiled sheepishly. “I do not know if that will be better or worse. My offspring’s opinion of the IBTI is very – well, uncharitable. Still, I will start there, and then speak to the premier.”
And with that, Li took their leave. Alfred and Nancy sat in stunned silence for a short time thereafter. “Did he…really say twenty-one grandkids?” she said in a minute.
“Yup.”
“That’s…that’s a lot of kids.”
“Yup.”
“I mean…four at least. Probably five.”
Alfred nodded.
“Why…why would we do that?”
The taxman scratched the back of his head. “Honestly, Nance? I have no idea. It sounds absolutely insane.” Then, he hastened to add, “I mean, don’t get me wrong: I want kids. But, a few kids. Not an army of them.”
She nodded in turn. “I mean…we’re not bound to do it just because Li said we did, right? We can change our future. We’ve done it a hundred times. We don’t have to make a terrible choice just because one possible future says we did. Right?”
Alfred agreed that no, they did not have to do that; and yes, they could change their futures. Nance loosed a breath of relief. “Good. I want kids too, but…yeah, that’s way too many.”
They sat there in awkward silence for another long moment. “So…a jailbird,” she said.
“We have got to remember to stay away from the name Anthony. It’s unlucky.”
She laughed. “Since when are you superstitious, Mister Favero?”
“I’m not. But when you meet Tony, you’ll understand: there’s no precaution too crazy.”
“I really do have to meet this Tony.”
“Careful what you wish for, Nancy,” he told her, which is what he usually said when she asked about meeting his eccentric relatives.
“And you have to meet my family, too. You know what we need to do, don’t you?”
Alfred thought about the brief, awkward exchanges the two men had had via social media and phone. Dave Abbot had never said it in so many words, but he’d made it patently obvious that he thought his daughter could do better – much better. And he thought about his own mom, whose only comment about his and Nancy’s relationship had been to remind her son that there were “plenty of fish in the sea.”
“Change our names and go into hiding?”
She nudged him. “No. We need to have the two families over. Thanksgiving’s only a few weeks away. We could do that, or Christmas. But get everyone together: your side and mine.”
“Oh God, Nancy. If you hate me, just tell me.”
She nudged him again. “Come on. It won’t be that bad.”
“It’ll be worse.”
“It won’t. My parents want to meet you. And yours have got to at least be curious about me, right?”
“Curious? I’m sure, if you let her, my mom will subject you to a full interrogation.”
“She can’t be that bad.”
“Do you know how many girlfriends my brother has had across his lifetime, Nance?”
“No idea.”
Alfred considered, then admitted. “Me either. Last count, it was in the several dozens range. Anyway, do you know how many of them my mom thought were good enough for ‘little Tony’?”
“How many?”
“Zero. And, with maybe two or three exceptions, every single one of them was a step up from him.”
“So you don’t think she’ll like me?”
“I know she won’t, babe. And not because of you. God could mold the perfect woman out of clay and send her straight down from heaven, and my mom would still say she isn’t good enough for Tony. I have no reason to believe she’ll be any better with me or you.”
Nancy frowned at him. “Are you saying I’m not the perfect woman?”
Alfred blinked, and retraced his words until he got to the potential faux pas. “Well, no. I mean, I didn’t mean it like that. I was saying for Tony.”
She snorted out a laugh. “I’m kidding, Alfred.” She leaned over and pecked him on the cheek. “You should have seen your face.”
He frowned at her. “You have a wicked sense of humor, Miss Abbot.”
“Yes I do, Mr. Favero. And I make no apologies for it. But, if it’s any consolation for you…I’m not worried about your mom hating me, because I’m pretty sure you’re going to be in the same boat with my dad.”
“How is that a consolation? That’s just double the problems.”
“What I mean is, we have to get it over with. We’re going to get married, and – apparently – have quite the family. They’re going to need to know their grandparents, right?”
“I suppose,” he grumbled. “But it’s going to be torture. Mark my words.”
She kissed him again. “So…what do you think? Thanksgiving or Christmas?”
He was about to say he’d prefer Thanksgiving, if only because it would mean ending his suffering sooner. But the far door opened, and a youngish Geejayan in a black jumpsuit ambled in.
Alfred stared at the newcomer, and was surprised to find his curiosity returned with – was it hostility? Surely not. A stranger would have no reason to scowl at him. Surely, he decided, he must be misinterpreting the expression of those scrunched up features. He’d only really got to know one Geejay before; so he had no real idea what an angry member of that race looked like. “Hello,” Alfred said. “Councilor Muldan is not here at the moment.”
“I know that,” the other said, in clear, well enunciated tones.
“Oh. Well, um, I’m Alfred Favero, and this is Nancy Abbot.”
The other arched a hairless eyebrow at them. “Then it really is true: you fools do not remember me?”
Nance glanced Alfred’s way, then asked, “Should we?”
“We met before, when I was a youngling. My progenitors brought me to visit you. They compelled me to play with your offspring.” Here, the alien made an unmistakably disgusted face. “Vile little snot-nosed creatures. Though at least the adoptees were older.”
“Adoptees?” Alfred repeated. “What are you talking about? Who are you?”
“You’re Litri,” Nancy gasped. “Li’s child. Aren’t you?”
“Then you do remember me?”
“No. But – I’m not wrong, am I?”
The alien regarded her with marked annoyance. “No. But my parentage is of less concern to you than my more recent ties.”
“You mean, because you are the premier’s life mate?”
Litri bobbed their head. Alfred was only barely grasping the situation. He had no idea how Nancy had figured out who this impudent little alien was or what they wanted. But he had wrapped his mind around the fact that this distasteful being was Li’s child. And that rather astonished him. “Wait a minute…you’re Li’s kid?”
“I understand now why my progenitors were so obsessed with your species: such wit and intellect.”
“L
ook, Litri, I don’t know what happened between us, but we don’t know you. We don’t have any grievances with you,” Nancy said.
“Oh, nothing happened. On that score, at least, you’re blameless. It’s not that you did anything to me, Nancy Favero. It’s just – who you are. What you represent.”
“Abbot,” she corrected. “Nancy Abbot.”
The alien brushed this aside. “I could not possibly care less if I tried.”
“So what exactly do we represent that has you so bothered?”
Here, the Geejayan snorted, but didn’t immediately answer. Instead, they asked, “So you’re here to beg my mate’s aid, are you, in undoing what you’ve done?”
“No,” Nancy said. “We’re here to offer our help, so that we can stop this catastrophe together. For your world, and all worlds.”
The Geejayan laughed, a harsh, discordant bark of amusement. “You asked what you represent to me, Nancy Favero? I tell you: hubris. The hubris you displayed in my childhood, to address yourself to my progenitors as equals: you, sad little creatures who can barely leave your own atmosphere. The hubris you continue to display as you march into my home and offer your paltry assistance: the fools who created the mess in the first place.”
“Offering to help stop the end of everything we know is hubris?” Alfred scoffed.
“Look, Litri, I don’t know where we got our wires crossed in the past…or our future, I guess…but we’re just here to help.”
“I know. And I know you’ve convinced that sad old fool of a progenitor of mine that you have some plan.
“But Li Muldan is an old fool. Do not presume that you will get to my mate through them.”
“We’re just trying to talk, Litri. That’s it.”
“If it were up to me, you would already be on your way home. But my mate will humor my progenitor. It is the way of things. Respect must be given to the elders.”
Alfred snorted, remembering how, just a few seconds earlier, Litri had been calling Li a fool. “You have a funny way of showing that respect,” he said.
Litri glared at Alfred. “I have come to warn you: my progenitor is old, and weak of mind. Their position in my mate’s council is a kindness. If you show Li Muldan up to be a fool, still as in love with your degenerate race as ever even after you have nearly wiped out all life, we will have no choice but to – in your charming vernacular – put them out to pasture.
