by E J Randolph
“Well, dear, I keep an eye on things, and I do believe there is something between you. He’s always sneaking looks at you, and his vital signs show excitement whenever you enter the room where he is.”
“But what am I to do?”
“It’s logical. Have a good time tonight. He leaves tomorrow. Not much can happen in one night.”
“Good point. Thank you.”
“Just keep your head, Kate. Remember, this is your home.”
I threw on brown jeans and a rust silk blouse, hung dangling copper earrings from my ears and pulled on brown low-heeled boots. I hurried into the passageway.
Pierre's eyes widened. “You look great.”
“Thank you.”
I went to the control room and found John. “I’m going to dinner with Pierre.”
He didn’t glance from his screen. “That's fine.” He spoke in a distracted tone.
No more big brother? I shrugged and left.
Pierre and I took the underground train most of the way. We walked onto the beach and watched the waves pound the shore. I took my boots off and wriggled my toes in the sand, and he skipped rocks into the receding tide. We played at the edge of the surf until the sun set, its deep red color reflecting off the clouds and waves.
Pierre reached for my hand. “We’d better get to the restaurant.”
We clambered up a rocky path cut into the cliff abutting the shoreline. The restaurant was located in a rough-hewn, wood building perched on a finger of dark-gray rock sticking out into the sea. It had a large deck out the back suspended over the waves crashing noisily below. I pointed to the deck, and Pierre nodded. We walked through the interior to the deck and stood at the railing watching the roiling surf.
Inside a musical group tuned its instruments and played. I turned to Pierre with big eyes. “That’s real bad.”
He laughed. “That’s why I usually eat out here.”
“Good idea. I’d rather listen to the waves crashing below.”
A few minutes later we looked for an empty table and ordered a pail of fresh catch shrimp-like seafood and various sauces. Everyone around us was casually dressed and the conversations relaxed, punctuated by frequent laughter.
I smiled at Pierre. “This is a nice place.”
“I’ve been saving it to bring you.”
My eyebrows rose.
He cleared his throat, looked at his plate, and fiddled with his fork. “You scare the pants right off this navy guy. You’re the kind of woman I could really go for.” He swallowed hard. “Settle down with.”
My jaw dropped.
He grinned. “But of course I’m shipping out tomorrow. Nothing can happen.”
I was speechless.
“But I had to tell you. I couldn’t leave without doing that.” He fumbled in his pocket and withdrew a long, thin box. “Here. Open this after I’m gone.”
I took the box and he relaxed. “That’s done. Better eat.” We finished our meal, and Pierre held his hand out. “The moon’s bright enough to take another walk on the beach. Want to go?”
We hurried to the beach, and I sank my toes into the sand. The white light of the moon changed the previously sunny, sandy beach to a mystic, white beach with dark shadows. I felt like I was walking through a black-ink-wash painting. We looked over the waves for several minutes in companionable silence.
He stepped from one foot to the other and cleared his throat. “Got to get you back.”
My head fell forward and my mouth twisted. Yep, it was time for him to get nervous again. For a few moments, the weight of the might-have-beens crushed my shoulders. I raised my head. “OK, let’s go.”
We took the underground to the spaceport, and he walked me to the gangway. He stuck his hands in his pocket, hunched his shoulders forward, and drew a circle in the sand with his foot. “I’d like to see you again someday. The crew too. They’ve become good friends. And you…” He strode away. A few seconds later, he broke into a run. Soon his tall, slim form was swallowed by the darkness. A lump formed in my throat. The boyfriend who never quite was...
I walked up the ramp with slow steps into the interior, and down the passageway to my quarters. I undressed and sat on my bunk. “Miss A?”
“Yes, dearie.”
“You were right.”
“I usually am.”
I lay down and a couple tears formed in the corners of my eyes.
~ ~ ~
The next morning, a heavy, furry, purring form pressed on my chest. “OK, Shebang, I’m awake. I take it you’re hungry. I might have forgotten to feed you last night.”
Two, slitted, gold eyes glared at me.
“Can’t I sleep a bit more.”
Shebang nipped the end of my nose.
“Ow!” I shoved her off and swung my feet to the deck. “You win.”
I threw on my shipboard coveralls and brushed my hair. My gaze fell on the box Pierre gave me. I picked it up, opened it, and read the note on top. To my favorite group of buccaneers from a stick in the mud from the regular navy. I chuckled. I stumbled to the commons with Shebang walking in front of me, her fluffy tail bristled to its maximum width.
“Don't worry, I see you. I promise I’ll feed you.”
Her tail vibrated.
At the food fabricator I glanced at Shebang. “How about sardines?”
She glared.
“No? How about trout with the fish head left on?”
She tilted his head.
“Hmm. Got you interested.” I punched the selection in, and placed the dish on the deck.
She gave it one sniff and dug in.
“Now I can have my tea.”
I opened the box and pulled out a banner with a red skull over a pair of crossed white bones against a black background. Something glinted at the bottom of the box, and my breath caught. I picked up a pin with a repeating holo of waves crashing on the beach. For a few seconds, I clutched the ornament to my chest and closed my eyes. I set the memento with care in the box and snapped the lid shut.
Now, where to hang the banner? I scrounged some sticky tape out of a drawer and hung the cloth over the food fabricator. Everyone would see it.
Ricardo was the first to arrive. He hurried to the food fabricator and jumped back a step. “Whoa! Way cool! Pierre?”
“Yes.”
John walked in, glanced at the banner, and shrugged. “Not inappropriate.”
Dan showed up and studied the banner as if he were in an art gallery. “Nice. Good color. Fine detail.”
In strode Nick on his long, thin legs. He said nothing. Perhaps he never saw the banner.
BOOK TWO
ALIEN
DEMANDS
CHAPTER SIX
*<>*
A FEW weeks later I was sitting alone in the commons, drinking tea and perusing tourist brochures, looking for the next fun thing to do. The intercom turned on with a brief pulse of static. “A vehicle stopped outside. The passenger is climbing the gangway.”
“Visuals, please, Miss A.”
The large screen on the bulkhead lit up. A young man in the diplomatic uniform of the Federation stood outside the main hatch. He looked around as if searching for a door bell.
I snickered and walked to the main hatch. “Please open up, Miss A. I’m going out.”
She opened the inner hatch, and I stepped into the space between the inner and outer hatches. She closed the inner and opened the outer hatch. I walked onto the small landing where the stranger waited.
He clicked a hand-held projector and a small hologram image of me appeared in front of him. “You’re Kate Stevens.”
I nodded.
“You’re needed.”
“What?”
“The ambassador sent me to escort you to the embassy.”
My eyes narrowed. “Why?”
He averted his gaze. “Uh, they wouldn’t say.”
I crossed my arms. “I’m carried on the roster as a low-level officer, and everyone knows I’m here on R&R and
not required to do anything. I’ve been here not quite two months, and except for three days at the beginning of my assignment to Bellasport, no one, let me repeat, no one, has expected me to even show up at the embassy. Something so important they have to send a personal escort is most irregular.”
He kept his head turned away from me.
Oh, no! It was happening. My vacation was about to end like Meredith said it would. If Moseley had to send a personal escort to make sure I showed up, this task must be worse than cleaning toilets. But what could I do? The ambassador called for me, and it was my job to show up. I was on the embassy roster. “Alright.” My throat was tight. “I’ll be back in a few moments.”
I searched for John and found him in the control room. “The ambassador sent an escort, driver, and vehicle to bring me to the embassy.”
He leaned back in the chair he’d had ergonomically engineered last time we were in Central. “That’s cranky.”
“You’re right.”
“Call on the cavalry if you need us. That’s what we’re here for.”
I walked halfway to my quarters and turned around. No, I wouldn’t change into a uniform. I’d go dressed as I was – in jeans. I was not on duty. I wasn’t supposed to be called in.
I got in the vehicle. The whole way to the embassy, the driver averted his face. What could be so bad?
At the embassy I forced myself to step out of the vehicle and head to the front door. I passed the marine guards, and they greeted me in a friendly and polite manner. This was normal. Perhaps all was not so bad. The door slid open, and the sound of the entire embassy staff shouting and talking swept around me.
Mosley stood behind the front desk. I pushed past excited staffers to him.
He held a commo device. “Yes, I’ll send someone up. The Federation is on top of it.” He glanced at me. “In fact that person has just walked in.”
I went numb. The people in the room fell silent and stared at me like a bug about to be pinned and put on display.
Mosley rubbed his hands. “Ah – Kate, come with me into my office.”
I followed him, and everyone’s gaze followed me. The hair on the back of my neck stood up.
Moseley stood to one side of the door as I entered and closed it behind me with what, to my heightened senses, sounded like a bank-vault door closing. “Sit down, please.” He sat behind his desk. “We have a situation.”
I gritted my teeth.
“Yes, well, it appears we have three ships of what is, perhaps, of – ah – alien fabrication.” He fiddled with a pointer stick. “Just flicked into the Bellasport system this morning. And, now” –he cleared his throat– “these ships, have entered synchronous orbit with what I believe is one hundred twenty degree spacing.”
Whatever the aliens had on their minds, they definitely had us surrounded. “Mr. Ambassador, does this not fall under the planetary supremacy clause of the Federation Organic Act?”
“Uh-huh, quite right, Ms Stevens. Quite right you are.”
“Well, then, sir, how does this involve us?”
He grimaced, distorting his valentine-shaped face into a grotesque anti-valentine. perhaps a Trojan horse valentine. “I’ve had numerous consultations over the past few hours since the apparent alien ships – um – first appeared. The Bellasport administrative council has invoked the military emergency clause of the Organic Act, and tossed the thing into my lap. Ha ha. I suppose their judgment is correct as their military is strictly a parade organization.”He wiped the sweat beading on his forehead.
“I see, sir. Have these new arrivals said what they want?”
“Yes, they have, Ms Stevens. I was coming to that. The new arrivals as you so correctly put it – and let me add, that is a fine sense of nuance on your part – these new arrivals have communicated they are interested in trade.”
“First contact and immediate trade development. That’s a task requiring the skills and understanding that only long and diverse service in the diplomatic corps can provide.” Whew! That should get me off the hook.
Mosley chuckled, a forced sound that choked off fast. He slapped his ample hand on his desk. “Very well said, Ms Stevens. You’ve just confirmed my judgment that you are the one. You are that rarity – a natural diplomat.”
“Thank you.” Eek! Wasn’t there some way I could get out of this?
“This should be simple. But I admit we have no protocol when apparent aliens contact us first. We really ought to remedy this. Our protocol has us contacting the aliens. That doesn’t seem to have been the case – yet – I mean – now – ah – this time.”
Every muscle in my body tightened. “Why don't we wait for Central's guidance on such an important first contact.” My voice rose half an octave. “Maybe they’ll send a special team.”
“That was precisely my first thought. But the Bellasport government is anxious. No, apprehensive. No, gravely concerned, that the presumed aliens, the new arrivals, might be impatient.” He forced a small laugh. “You know how the locals hate to miss a deal.”
I stared at him. I was in big trouble.
He leaned back with a smile that was too friendly and too wide. “This is what I have in mind for you, Ms Stevens. You just hop up there in the embassy shuttle to the lead alien ship and invite their trade delegation to come down and meet with me.”
The room took on a surreal color and my body seemed to float. These were aliens. He was making the invitation sound as commonplace as asking the neighbors to dinner. “Let me make sure I understand you. You want me to go up there and invite them down to see you?”
Moseley spread his arms wide. “That’s it exactly. No need for a briefing because we have no protocol. Then, I, the person with the years of service as you so excellently put it, will take over. Your role is simple.”
I squinted at his big smile and shuddered. This was one valentine I didn’t want to receive. “When would you like me to go up?”
“Right away. The embassy car is waiting. The embassy space shuttle is waiting. The new arrivals are waiting.”
I stood, my joints cracking with an age I hadn’t achieved and probably never would. “I’ll be on my way.”
“Don't sound so glum. It’s quite simple. Straight forward even. You have what it takes. You’ll be back for a late supper.” He stood. “Speaking of food, I’m late for lunch with the planetary defense minister. Ha, ha.”
I left his office, ducked into the ladies room, and punched in the John’s code on my wrist computer. “Do you know about the aliens?” My voice shook.
“Sure do. Been following the buzz around the spaceport, and Nick, of course, has been tracking them.”
“The ambassador wants me to go up and meet with them. Right now.”
“How are you going to get there? We haven’t been notified.”
“I'm to go up in the embassy shuttle.”
He groaned.
“John–”
“Not that it matters. We don't have the fire power to take on three heavy combatants.”
My stomach sank.
“Ricardo is going through an abbreviated checklist. We’ll hold on T minus ninety seconds. You push the big red button, we come.”
“But, John, you said–”
“Even a forlorn hope is better than no hope at all. You push the button, we come.”
I clasped my chest. They were with me. I took a deep breath and left the ladies room. I walked to the front desk in the now nearly empty lobby on wobbly legs that felt like they belonged to a new-born fawn. “I’m waiting for the vehicle to take me to the embassy shuttle.”
A fellow wearing the embassy's chauffeur uniform sprang to his feet. “That’s me.”
I sighed. This was more organized than I’d like.
“Follow me.” He strode out the door with unseemly haste.
What choice did I have? There was no way to prolong the last minutes of my life. The few people in the lobby diverted their eyes or busied themselves reading their screens. They
knew I was a goner. I was the outsider, the traditional choice for a sacrifice to the gods. They weren’t putting themselves at risk, but they felt guilty for putting me in danger.
The driver waited by the embassy vehicle and held the rear door open. I climbed in, and he took off through the city at top speed. Meredith’s words flashed across my mind. Say all the cleaning staff quits, you get to clean the toilets, metaphorically speaking. She didn’t know the half of it. The driver squealed to a stop alongside the embassy shuttle at the main spaceport. He dashed around and opened my door.
I willed my legs to take me to the shuttle and stood outside the small craft. The hatch was closed. I couldn’t go. Good. I could leave.
“They call me out on a moment's notice to pilot this wreck.” The pilot’s cranky voice came through the door. “I’m not also going to play doorman.”
I opened the door to the copilot's side and climbed onto the seat. The pilot clicked the lock on. Now I was a prisoner too. I was doomed and he knew it.
The pilot turned to me with the sour, dour countenance of a funeral director when the client buys the cheapest casket. “We’re cleared for immediate takeoff.” He pushed the control forward ramming on the g's.
I hovered on the edge of blacking out. I couldn’t breathe. Good. Maybe I would die.
The engines fell silent. I could breathe again and the pain stopped. We coasted on an intersection trajectory with the lead ship of the alien fleet. The pilot hunched over his controls as if in pain.
“Are you alright?”
“No, the betting at the embassy is seven to one I won’t return.”
A chill swept through me. The scuttlebutt in an embassy was always more reliable than the smooth words of an ambassador.
We approached the largest ship. It was round with s-shaped protuberances sticking out the rear. We hovered in front of it. I used the ship to ship communicator and sent a greeting in a multitude of languages.
The alien ship maintained an implacable silence, and a shiver ran up my back.
A large port opened and I pointed. “That’s an invitation. Take it.” I spoke with a bravado I didn’t feel.
“Are you out of your blooming mind?”
