“I…I don’t understand,” she said, obviously at a loss as to what he was telling her.
“In your driver training didn’t they teach you NEVER to mess with the driver of a car when the car’s in motion?”
“Yes, of course,” she said, still puzzled. “Distracting the driver can cause a crash, but we are not in a car—”
“Ah, but THIS ship is, for all intent and purpose, a ‘flying car’,” he stated, and was pleased to see her eyes widen in sudden comprehension. “And while these controls are different from a ‘ground car’, and the techniques and physics behind its operation are worlds different from, say, my old Corvette, it’s still similar enough that if you mess with the ‘driver’—that’s me, by the way—while the vehicle’s in motion, the results can be the same. BOOM!”
“Jack, I’m sorry!” she cried, again jumping away, her teeth bared in terror. “I didn’t realize—”
Ross flipped a latch on his chair’s pedestal, allowing him to swivel it around and face the frightened H’kaah. Smiling wryly, he motioned for her to sit in his lap. When she hesitated he said, “Oh, come off it! You know damned well I’m not going to hurt you. You’re not in trouble—not yet, anyway—and unlike some people I know, I won’t bite without provocation.” Again he motioned for her to join him. “Now that I’ve fixed this thing so it can fend for itself for a few minutes I can pay better attention to you.” She gingerly approached to within his reach, and when he made no threatening moves she carefully curled up in his lap, her head nestled on his shoulder.
“You don’t know how much I’ve missed you,” he rumbled softly into a velvet ear while lovingly caressing her soft, fragrant fur. “And knowing that our time together is limited makes that time all the more precious to me.”
Snuggling and cuddling in an RV-style captain’s chair is awkward at best, and S’leen soon tried to lead him to the much wider back seat. But Ross resisted, saying, “As much as I’d like to curl up with you back there, I can’t.” To counter her hurt expression he explained, “We’ll be home in a little over two hours, and I really don’t want to start something that I’ll have to stop so soon.”
“But—why must we stop?”
“Remember when I told you that I host occasional ‘social events’—they’re really nothing more than low-key parties— and that I’d need your help with them?”
After a moment of surprised silence she pushed away and sat up straight, her expression unreadable. Eventually she said, “I remember, Jack, and I will of course do whatever is needed to help you with your party.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” he said, grinning. “This isn’t my party, it’s yours.” Her expression slowly changed, this time to one of bewilderment. He carefully enfolded her into his arms again, stroking her dark, silky hair and nuzzling her in ways he knew she liked. “To celebrate your accomplishment as well as welcome you back to our home, Dear, I’ve invited a few friends over for the evening. Some of these people you already know, but there’ll be a few new faces—hmmmm, maybe even a surprise or two waiting for you.”
Ross was relieved to see her face light up with delight, but then she frowned again. “But the work, Jack! There is food to prepare, equipment to set up, supplies—”
He gently clamped her muzzle shut with a finger and thumb, saying, “No. Once we land the only thing you have to do is step out that door and enjoy yourself; everything has been taken care of.” He slowly caressed first one tapered ear, then the other, and finished with a light thumb-stroke across one of her satin-covered erect nipples. She shuddered, a passionate intake of breath hissed through her clinched teeth. “And later tonight, after the guests have gone home, I’ll take special care of you.”
* * *
Jane came in low and slow, making two tight orbits above Ross’ small estate before coming to rest in the driveway in front of the house. The “few friends” Ross had spoken of turned out to be over a hundred friends, associates, neighbors, employees—and even more “surprises” than Ross had planned for. Dozens of cars, trucks and a small cluster of motorcycles were parked on the grass just inside the driveway gate, and other vehicles lined both sides of the street for several blocks. Knots of people were gathered around tables of food and refreshments that were stationed in strategic locations under trees, while groups of people wandered the estate’s grounds.
It had been nearly four months since S’leen became mankind’s first alien companion, and during that time the Patrons facility had placed over seventy five young H’kaah adults into mainstream human society, with many of those residing in northeast Florida. It was inevitable that the aliens would meet others of their kind at social events and the like, and Ross made sure to have a few of his guests who had aliens in their households bring their exotic companions along.
The party got interesting shortly after they landed.
S’leen couldn’t get over how happy everybody seemed to be to see her. Even people who’d never met her wasted little time before congratulating her on acquiring her driver’s license. “Jack,” she nervously whispered during a brief lull in the accolades, “I don’t understand. Almost every human I’ve ever met has a driver’s license. Why are they so pleased that I have one?”
“You have to remember,” he softly muttered near one of her ears, “you’re the first non-human to earn the privilege. Also, since most humans really like your people I guess, well, maybe we’re just proud that you’re meshing into our society—crazy as it often is—so well.”
Lisa Thomas, who, like most of the partygoers, was dressed in Florida-summer-casual attire, interrupted their momentary privacy. “S’leen, congratulations!” she said, taking both of the H’kaah’s hands in her own, then warmly embracing her. Out of the scores of people at Ross’ auto dealership, Thomas had been the alien’s solid friend from the first moment they’d met.
When the two females broke from their hug Ross asked Thomas, “Are we ready?”
“Whenever you are, boss,” she said with a mysterious smile directed toward the H’kaah, and when he nodded the woman melted into the crowd.
To S’leen’s confused look he would only say, “You’ll find out shortly, Dear. In the meantime why don’t you walk around and visit a little.” He gave her a quick squeeze and slipped away, leaving the puzzled alien momentarily standing by herself.
* * *
H’kaah ears literally stand out in a crowd of humans, and Ross was pleased to see several sets among the numerous groups of partyers. One nearby set of ears belonged to a muscular, solid-white-furred male who had become a recent addition to local Realtor Maria Whitfield’s solo household. The group she was in appeared to be having a lively conversation so Ross passed them by with an amiable wave as he headed toward the multi-car garage behind the main house. There he met Lisa Thomas, and they ducked through a side door.
“I can hardly wait,” she said, giggling like a youngster. Ross wasn’t much more composed, his wide grin threatening to do permanent damage to his face.
“I don’t think I’ve had this much fun with a surprise in…in hell, I can’t remember when!” he said, laughing. Give me time to move Jane to her hangar—say, ten minutes—then bring it around. I’ll make sure S’leen’s ready.”
He slipped out the door and made his way back to the front of the house where he quickly moved the little starship to its special storage building. He hurried back to the front of the house and momentarily ducked inside, returning with a battery-powered bullhorn. Standing on the front porch he triggered the switch, then said, “Ladies and gentlemen, humans and H’kaah, would you please gather round. I have an announcement I think you’ll want to hear.” The guests began congregating in front of the porch almost immediately, and Ross motioned for S’leen to join him at the top of the steps.
Several of the guests knew what Ross had planned, but they had been happily sworn to secrecy and would only say to the uninformed, “You’re not gonna believe this!” and “Just wait—it’s worth it!” In
a few minutes all of the guests were assembled, and those who knew the secret were easy to spot; they all had matching, infectious grins.
Ross put the bullhorn down, no longer needing the boost in volume. “All of you know that my lovely companion S’leen, here, has become the first H’kaah to earn a driver’s license.” The crowd broke into spontaneous applause, which further added to her discomfort. When it died down he said, “I thought that achievement was worth celebrating with a party—” applause mixed with cheers and whistles interrupted him momentarily, “—but I wanted to do a little something extra to mark the occasion.”
Ross put an arm around S’leen and gave her a brief hug, smiling at her obvious embarrassment. “And so I thought,” he continued, “‘What would be more fitting for someone whom we all agree resembles a rabbit than to have a Rabbit of her very own to drive!’” A few of the crowd didn’t immediately pick up on Ross’ play on words, S’leen among them. Those who did roared with laughter which quickly became cheers when, as if on cue (which it was) a raucous European car horn beeped several times from behind the house. The crowd then heard a small car’s engine crank, then rev up, and moments later a compact, bright yellow convertible rounded the side of the house and slowly worked its way through the laughing, cheering crowd to stop in front of the steps. Lisa Thomas killed the car’s engine, then beeped the horn one last time before climbing out from behind the steering wheel and tossing a small key ring up to Ross.
“In case you don’t recognize it,” Ross shouted to the enthusiastic crowd, “that little yellow car’s a Volkswagen Rabbit convertible! It’s been many a year since VW made them, but Larry Dinkens, my used car manager, found this little jewel last week. He says it actually belonged to—are you ready for this?—a little old lady, and you can see that from the fine condition it’s in she must have driven it only on Sundays. Honest!” The crowd roared with laughter.
S’leen was speechless; actually she was teetering on panic. Ross said with a flourish, “Young lady, I’m pleased to present you with the keys to your very own car,” and as he did so the crowd broke into spontaneous cheers, whistles and enthusiastic applause. She momentarily froze, which prompted Ross to gently urge her down the steps and toward the little car’s driver side door. “Go on, get in,” he urged. “Unlike you, THIS Rabbit doesn’t bite!” The crowd hooted and whistled. “Still, it’s pretty lively, and I think you’ll find it just about perfect for hopping around town.”
But S’leen didn’t follow his instructions, at least not right away. Instead, she slowly walked around the car, studying the sunny little convertible from different angles. When she got to the back she spied Volkswagen’s stylized running rabbit emblem on the abbreviated trunk lid; that made her smile in wonder. She was having a difficult time believing all this was happening (even though it was) and that this group of humans—enthusiastically led by her patron, Jack Ross—was actually doing all this to honor her. S’leen’s chest momentarily tightened with emotion as the gravity of the situation sunk in.
She was loved.
Many of the guests had cameras. Some of them were poised holding tiny video cameras, three people happily fiddled with the latest in sophisticated digital imaging devices but most still used simple film cameras. All were impatiently waiting for S’leen to open the driver side door and sit behind the wheel. When she decided everyone had waited long enough she swung the door wide, then folded herself behind the steering wheel of her car.
And grinned!
Cameras whirred, clicked, flashed, hummed and buzzed as the guests recorded the event for posterity, but cheers and applause drowned the electro-mechanical sounds out. A few people, Ross felt sure, would offer their photographic evidence to the local newspaper; others would post images directly to the Internet. After all, he reasoned, this was a genuine event, something never before seen on Earth. He just hoped, like rabbits, such events would multiply.
* * *
Since it was getting dark S’leen really didn’t mind postponing her inaugural drive in the unfamiliar little car, so after the last photos were shot she unfolded from her car (a concept she found most incredible) and drifted back into the crowd of partygoers.
The evening was Florida-warm but relatively bug-free, and the guests were scattered in loose groups wherever there was a pool of light. Ross had discreet outdoor lighting almost everywhere on the estate, so small clumps of people could be found even in the out-of-the-way places. One of those places, a tall hedgerow cul-de-sac, held a solitary pair of H’kaah; a low-walled one nearby was occupied by a quite different couple, both pair intent on matters most personal.
Ross had a chilled malt Scotch and water in his left hand, and was unconsciously using it as a shield between himself and a stunningly tall, mostly snow-white, lop-eared female H’kaah. Although the night wasn’t terribly warm, Ross was sweating more than the cold glass of whiskey—and with good reason. He had dubbed this H’kaah the “Snow Queen” the first time he’d seen her, and if anything, she looked even more regal now that she was dressed in a wispy black, form-hugging dress that had a plunging neckline that dropped to a point well below her navel.
“Well, C’maat, was I right?” he asked with a careful smile. “Is Tony everything I said he was?” Tony was Tony Wilson, an aging former NFL running back who had retired a few years earlier from the Jacksonville Jaguars after helping them win yet another Super Bowl championship. Wilson was also a reasonably wealthy, astute businessman with his own line of distinctive menswear. Still very trim and athletic, his skin was so dark it almost hurt one’s eyes to look at him. Wilson’s contrast with C’maat’s snowy whiteness was like a yin-and yang painting, and in the months they had been together the striking couple had cut a flashy swath through both the social and sports world scene.
C’maat reached a white velvet-furred hand up to delicately stroke Ross’ cheek. For several heartbeats she said nothing, only the low party noises and trilling crickets broke the evening’s serenity. Then she smiled, softly saying, “At first I didn’t understand your enthusiasm for Tony. He is such a contrast to you, and not only in the color of his skin and the texture of his head-fur.” She stopped stroking Ross’ slightly scratchy cheek, but then didn’t seem to know quite what to do with her hands.
“A lot of people think Tony’s nothing more than an over-the-hill jock,” Ross offered, “but those people don’t know the person behind the public image.”
“True,” she said with a sudden smile. “He often makes me laugh, Jack, and that is something I never expected a human to be capable of doing.” She took a sip of the wine cooler she was holding, the glass bottle awkwardly clinking on her four rabbit-like front teeth. “Maybe someday I’ll be able to drink from a bottle like this without making noise.” She winked and rabbit-twitched her nose at Ross, catching him completely off guard.
“Ha!” he barked in surprise. “I think some of his humor is rubbing off on you, C’maat. When I first met you, God you were stiff! I figured if Tony couldn’t loosen you up, nobody could.” He grinned at her, adding, “And I really think you’ve been good for each other.” Ross nodded toward a source of booming laughter a dozen yards away. “I haven’t heard him laugh like that in a long time.”
“The death of his wife in a starship crash,” she quietly said, “left emotional scars that still cause him pain.” She looked at Ross with an expression he couldn’t read, then said, “While I have never seen a photograph of her, I am told she was a light-skinned human like you.”
“Yeah,” Ross said, “and even though their mixed-race marriage caused them both a lot of grief, he damned near worshipped her.” He grinned at another booming laugh from Wilson’s direction. “Something just told me that the two of you would hit it off, and you don’t know how glad that, for once in my life, I was right.”
C’maat stepped closer to Ross, using her drink bottle to brush aside his glass of Scotch. “Are all human males as fierce as Tony, yet so gentle in their—personal relations?” Her in
toxicating musky scent was different from S’leen’s; where Ross’ H’kaah companion favored subtly aromatic herbs, C’maat leaned more toward nose-tickling cinnamon.
Oh God, not now! He thought as something other than panic began to rise in his trousers. “C’maat, I—”
Angry words in a familiar, non-human language broke through his consciousness and his head automatically swiveled to the source, apparently coming from the high-walled hedgerow cul-de-sac nearby. C’maat, too, had zeroed in on the unhappy alien dialogue, her droopy ears showing that they were sensitive despite their French lop appearance.
Two H’kaah voices—one male, one female—had not yet reached the shouting point, but Ross feared they weren’t far from it. Luckily, none of the other party guests seemed aware of the problem, but he knew that could change momentarily. C’maat’s wide peripheral vision caught a blur of movement, then Ross’ form had ducked through a hole in the high shrubbery wall and was sprinting away from her like it had been shot from a catapult. He was literally gone before his drink glass hit the ground.
Since he was familiar with every inch of his estate’s grounds he knew what section of the man-high shrubbery wall would allow him to push through to the small open area where the two H’kaah were arguing. The aliens were so involved in their confrontation that they didn’t hear Ross’ arrival, which allowed him precious moments to evaluate the situation. He didn’t like what he saw.
The young white-furred male H’kaah was impressive, with a broad-shouldered physique like that of a professional football player, and he had both of S’leen’s much smaller arms in a vice-like grip that she would never be able to break. While no physical assault had apparently taken place Ross felt certain that, due to the harsh tone and insistent nature of the male’s demands—and by the unmistakable bulge in the front of his blue satin shorts—it would only be a matter of moments before matters got completely out of hand.
Redeeming Factors (Revised) Page 11
