The Gathering Storm

by Marshall Miller

  He turned, and there she was. Kathy. The long, midnight blue dress looked like it had been painted on her, hugging every part of her body just right. A slit up the left side showed an expanse of nylon-enclosed leg that took his breath away. Her blonde hair was up, showing off her exquisite neck, with a few long curls teasing her ears and shoulders. For the first time in a very, very long time the man with all of the words was speechless.

  “How do I look? This is first new party dress I've had on in about six years.” She twirled in her heels. “Well, what do you think? Boss.”

  He finally found his voice. “Kathy Monroe, you look absolutely stunning.”

  Kathy wrinkled her nose at him, smiling. “Aw, you probably tell all the girls that.” At that moment, she glanced past him, and although her mouth was still smiling, her eyes were now wary. “Battle stations, Boss,” she announced, and Adam turned to where she had been looking.

  Professor Sarah Broadmore-Fassbinder, in a long burgundy dress, was coming at him like an enemy battle cruiser, full steam ahead. Adam actually believed for a moment that she planned on ramming him. Sarah had always been attractive, with a slim but athletic looking body. She used to run pre-Squid and still had shapely runner’s legs. But now, her muscular body was tense with determination, and her face reflected the difficulties of her past.

  Years prior there was a female Representative from Colorado that was attractive, but she had a look on her face most of the time that looked like a combination of constipation and stick up ass syndrome, especially when someone disagreed with her strong feministic views. Men were physically stronger than women? Even when presented with scientific evidence to the contrary, women and men were the same, except men had the evil penis that must be controlled. And if they were not the same, dammit, she would make them the same by the power of law.

  Sarah had the same intense, frustrated look, reflecting the belief she could change reality by sheer force of will.

  “Good Evening, Professor. And if I may say so, that dress is quite becoming on you.”

  Sarah Broadmore-Fassbinder stopped just short of slamming into him, with a feral grin. “Well, Director. Glad that you recognized me. Though I might have expected to be introduced you earlier when you had that meeting with my husband.”

  “Sorry, but the meeting had to do with your husband’s abilities, not yours.” Adam saw her jaw tighten.

  “So, your plans do not include strong, professional women? I should have realized you have a stereotypical view of the female gender when you provided all the women with these clothes. Do you think you can disarm all women with a bit of frill, a piece of ribbon, so that we will conform and become the traditional 1950s housewives from Leave It to Beaver?”

  “No, Ma’am. I thought everyone would enjoy a chance for a little ‘dress up’, men included, which is why every man also received a suit tailored for him. That’s why everyone was measured before arriving. Not for a coffin, as some rumors have stated. A little bit of good old time Western Civilization does wonders for morale, in my experience.”

  “Do you wonder that we would have some apprehension, given the last six years?”

  “No Ma’am, I do not. Contrary to popular belief, I lived through the last six years too. I am not some clone grown in a tank, which is another story circulating. To counter your statement about the role of women here, in this group of humans you see here tonight, you will find six medical doctors, ten nurses, five biologists, two agriculturists, ten security personnel, seven mechanics of various types, four computer geeks, a mathematician, two engineers and a theoretical physicist, all blessed with having been born female. I look at what you can do, not what gender you are. Trust me, with Tschaaa medical technology, if it were important, gender modification is a lot simpler than pre-strike. But it isn’t important. What you can do for the human species is.”

  “But you still limited your one-on-one meetings to a few men.”

  “And one woman. Allow me introduce you to Ms. Monroe...”

  The professor cut him off, purposefully not acknowledging Kathy. “You can’t be serious. You compare a video whore to women with real accomplishments?”

  Adam began to burn internally, though he did not show it. Dealing with aliens, you learn how to control your outward emotions. But before he could reply, Kathy did.

  “Hey, lady. I’m right here. And yes I read, write, and understand English quite well. So, if you think I don’t understand being insulted, guess again.”

  Sarah still refused to look at her. “As I just said, some tramp who showed her ass on film is hardly an example of professional accomplishment.”

  The Chief seemed to appear out of nowhere and stepped in between Sarah and Kathy. “Now, now ladies. This is fun time, not fight time.”

  “That’s enough, Ma’am,” Adam continued. “In street vernacular, don’t let your mouth write a check your ass can’t cash.”

  “Oh, of course. The savior of the human race. So where are all the dark faces, the brown faces? How many did you help slaughter?”

  People were beginning to notice there was a conflict nearby, and were beginning to stare. Others moved to other side of the auditorium, glancing back nervously.

  “Ma’am...” Adam began.

  “It’s Professor! Stop trying to pigeonhole and demean me with your chauvinistic titles. I earned my Professorship through hard work. Not by screwing someone.”

  “Ma’am.” Adam’s voice was solid ice. “Be. Quiet. Now.”

  Sarah, hearing something in his tone that sent a chill up the human spine, stopped and sputtered a bit.

  “Chief, you have that picture of your family?”

  “Always, Boss.”

  “May I have it please?”

  The Chief produced a laminated photo that had been well worn. Adam took it carefully, and stepped in close to Sarah.

  “First of all, Ma’am and Sir are honorific words that show good manners and respect. They were good enough for my mother and father, they are good enough for me. Second, who do you see in this picture?”

  Sarah looked at it, and began to get a bit pale in the face. “A... dark-skinned woman of Middle Eastern descent and two children that look… mixed race.”

  “You see, the Chief’s wife was an Afghani who he saved from being killed due to some honor-killing bullshit for being nice to Infidels. They got to know each other, fell in love, got married.”

  Sarah tried to look at the Chief. “I’m...”

  “Be quiet.” That icy tone again. “Guess what happened to them that first day?”

  “I…”

  “Be quiet. The question was rhetorical. A well-educated professor knows what ‘rhetorical’ means yes? Don’t speak. Just nod your head if you understand.”

  Sarah nodded her head.

  “Good. They were probably dark meat in some Squid’s larder. And I know of former black friends from the Air Force who were probably some Tschaaa breeder’s snack the first year.”

  “Yes, I made a choice to save who I can. Sorry that most of them have lighter skin. And oh, by the way, I was the Godfather to those kids when his wife converted to Christianity, which would have gotten her killed doubly by her own people. She survived all that, until an alien invasion. Bit of a cosmic fucking joke, don’t you think?”

  Adam leaned forwarded until he was nose to nose with Sarah.

  “Don’t ever accuse the Chief of being some racist asshole feeding dark-skinned kids to the Tschaaa. Ms. Monroe is here because she has a flair for communication and seems to brighten people’s lives up a bit with her perkiness, some characteristics I think you lost well before the first rock strike.”

  The Director stood upright. “Oh, Mary Lou, glad you are here. Please join the Chief, Kathy and I for a drink at the bar.” Adam took both Kathy and Mary Lou’s arms and escorted them to the bar.

  The Chief paused for a moment, putting the picture of his family away. Looking over the top of Sarah’s head, he seemed to speak to no one in par
ticular. “Too bad that some people walking and talking today are just as dead inside their heads as my family is dead for real.” He left to join his friends.

  “I’m sorry, Director,” Mary Lou apologized. “I tried to head her off, but some young stud tried to pick me up and got in the way.”

  “No harm, no foul. She had her sights on me. Sometime tonight she would have gotten me.” Adam paused to look in Kathy’s direction. “By the way, Ms. Monroe, please accept my apologies for those boorish comments.”

  Kathy wrinkled her nose at him. “Boss, she was right. I did show my naked ass for a living. But, I think I am a bit too well-educated and classy to be a bimbo.”

  “Then why did you show your ass?” Mary Lou asked with a cocked eyebrow. She was wearing a dress that fit her body as nicely as Kathy’s, slit up the side showing shapely leg.

  “Needed the money, and found out this body could make a decent sum. Finally had enough cash to give up adult films to give mainstream Hollywood a go. The Squids showed up as I was on the way to an audition, and the rest is history.”

  “Oh,” was all that Mary Lou could think to say in reply. She gave Kathy a look that meant she was sizing up possible competition. Why she seemed so protective when she was already occasionally sharing her bed with two other women puzzled Kathy, especially since Kathy had made it a point to stay in a separate apartment.

  “Excuse us ladies, the Chief and I need a moment,” the Director apologized, as he walked away from Mary Lou and Kathy, toward Major Grant. For once the Major had saw fit to wear an evening dress that showed off her well-endowed figure, slit up the side and all.

  Kathy looked at her appraisingly.

  “If you are checking out Jane for a possible roll in the hay, she is straighter than straight.”

  “Now, Mary Lou, why would you assume I like women that much?”

  Mary Lou smirked. “I checked out your films.”

  “Well, you have heard of acting, haven't you?” Kathy gave Mary Lou a bit of a sideways glance. “But, you share your bed with the Barbie twins. So, female attraction isn't new to you, is it?”

  Mary Lou responded abruptly. “What I do with Adam is private. I know that he has already ‘tasted your wares’. But let me assure you that you’re not the first, nor the last. The Director’s appetite is legendary. I’d like to think it is a form of stress relief needed from having to watch people die, and knowing that each day you have helped condemn thousands of what were once called people of color to being pieces of meat, literally.

  “But I’m going to be blunt and say that I don’t trust you. My gut says there is a hidden agenda. I’m warning you, if you hurt Adam, I will mess you up.”

  Kathy stared back at Mary Lou. “If you want a fight, you’ve got one. I am willing to be friendly, but I won’t be walked on. Not even by Bettie Page.”

  The two women, inches from each other, stared into each other’s eyes. Mary Lou broke the gaze first. “Alright, now that we are both on notice, may I suggest we make the best of a bad situation. For the Director’s sake.”

  “Agreed.” Kathy replied. “Shake on it.” She extended her right hand, and Mary Lou took it in a firm handshake. Both women held the handshake for a few extra seconds gauging each other’s strength. Both quickly realized that neither one was a pushover. They released each other’s grasp.

  “Nice grip, Mary Lou. You’re used to dealing in a man’s world, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Kathy, and I could say the same of you.”

  Adam returned at that moment. “My apologies again, ladies. Getting acquainted, are we?”

  “Yes,” answered both women in unison, each giving the other a knowing look and smile.

  “Good. Because we will all be working together closely over the next weeks and months. Now, about those drinks.”

  Sarah was seething when her husband walked up. She was angrier with herself than the Director, angry for allowing the Director to so dominate her. She should have said more, she should have…

  “Well, that was special,” Joseph remarked sarcastically.

  “Screw you, Joseph!” Sarah snapped. She was so goddamned mad. Her face was inches away from her husband’s, their noses nearly touching, before she realized his right hand was digging painfully into her left bicep. He had never laid hands on her before. “Ouch! You’re hurting me!”

  “You just don’t get it!” he hissed. “This is not some intellectual exercise. This is fucking real. The Tschaaa are real, human cattle are real, and the Director’s power and mission are real. And he made me an real offer I couldn’t refuse, to quote The Godfather.”

  His hot breath was in her face. “Do you think I will die for you, now? Maybe six years ago, sure as hell not now. I have watched you and your pointy-headed friends perform intellectual masturbation while I and a few others scrounged the food and supplies needed to survive. I have put up with your artful disdain that I dare work with the U.S. government, because I wanted the chance to travel to space.”

  Joseph was literally shaking with anger. Six years of stress and frustration, of listening to her sarcastic statements of intellectual superiority, of his physical love for her that was rejected, of barely surviving. And now, in this place, she dared to dictate what was right? “You can stay, you can leave, you can go fuck yourself. I don’t care. You have burnt me out. I’m staying. I’m doing what is right for me.”

  He stepped back, releasing her arm with a long sigh. “You used to be a beautiful, vivacious woman. I wanted children with you. Now, all I want is to be rid of you. Have a nice trip back to California. I need a drink.” He turned and stormed off.

  For the first time in a long time, Sarah’s private thoughts were not enough company.

  Adam and his small party had in drinks in hand from the honor bar that was pay as you go for scotch and other hard liquors. As Director, Adam had ensured that funds for a few drinks were provided in the pocket of every man’s suit pants, and safety pinned to every woman’s evening gown. He was a generous host, and knew his audience well.

  Beer and wine were free, though seventy-five percent of it was Conch Republic locally brewed and vinted. The beer, especially the ale, was quite good. The wine varied from bottle to bottle. The bartenders on hand kept an eye on the patrons. They knew that many had only passing contact with alcohol in the past six years, so it was easy to drink too much.

  However, most of the attendees made a beeline to the food that also offered free of charge. Several tables set up buffet-style provided cuisine from various Asian countries as well as variety of pasta dishes. Fresh fruit and vegetables from the extensive greenhouse and hydroponics area were often the first fresh food the new arrivals had seen in months, other than the occasional apple.

  Once again, tears of gratitude were evident, especially those mothers with their children. Malnutrition was a thing of the past in the Keys. It was odd, but the most popular section was one that Adam had originally set up for arriving children. That was the hamburgers and hotdog grill. After the first run on this simple food, Adam had ensured that in all future Socials, there was plenty of good old beef and pork hotdogs and hamburgers. He had even added a large roast for french dip sandwiches. As usual, there was a bit of a line.

  “Boss, where do you get the meat?” Kathy asked.

  “We now have a herd of beef cattle and some pig pens here on the base. In addition, we obtained some cattle, especially some good old nasty Texan longhorns, and introduced them wild on vacated areas near Homestead and Miami. They are enough like African water buffalo that they quickly adapt to the Everglades and other rural areas. So, anyone can have some beef on the hoof if they hunt it. Plus, longhorns are big and tough enough to give anyone fits, including the ‘gators. Oh, we do use alligator meat, as well. It which tastes a bit like chicken.”

  He pointed to two long tables set off a bit by themselves, with a large flag above them. “And, Conch Republic seafood. Here, let me introduce you to someone.”

  “Then
can I eat? I’m starving.”

  Adam chuckled. “Yes, this will only take a minute. He would be slighted if I did not introduce you to him.”

  They approached the seafood tables, and saw a tall, slender man with a large but well-trimmed grey beard. He was dressed in a caricature of a Military Class A Uniform coat, with oversized shoulder boards containing five stars on each.

  “Kathy Monroe, may I introduce the Admiral, leader of the Conch Republic.”

  The Admiral broke into a large grin at the sound of his name and the sight of Kathy. Two gorgeous, rangy woman–for lack of a better description, real life Amazons–one blond and one brunette, flanked the Admiral, dressed in evening gowns that fit every bit as well as Kathy’s. They were clearly much more than just eye candy, as they kept watchful eyes on everyone and everything around the Admiral. Both flashed smiles of familiarity at Adam, and the blond even winked.

  The Admiral immediately took Kathy’s right hand, clicked his heels in good German Kaiser imitation and pressed it to his lips. “Madam, it is indeed an honor. I probably have the largest remaining existing collection of your work, including your appearances on cable and mainstream television. Will you marry me?”

  Kathy’s mouth dropped open, but she quickly recovered and replied, “Why, we have just met, Admiral... ?”

  “Just Admiral. I don't need another name. I know who I am, and so does every else in the Keys.” Kathy wondered if the elevator in his head went all the way to the top, and if it ever had.

  “Now, Admiral,” Adam interjected. “Ms. Monroe just arrived here as my guest. Decorum requires some time for courtship before one pops the question, don’t you think?”

  “You are quite right, Director. How crude of me. But, please Kathy, remember me before you become betrothed to another.”

  Kathy flashed him her signature smile. “I certainly will, Admiral. I do have a weakness for men in uniform.” The Amazons rolled their eyes at the comment, which the Admiral either didn’t notice, or preferred to ignore.