by Ian Rodgers
“In spite of their reputation as dumpster divers and salvagers, the Croon are quite talented when it comes to innovatively using old technology and recycling. That doesn’t stop some of the older members of the Alliance to look down on them.”
“Would it be rude or insensitive of me to say their voice is like agony on my ears?” Zane inquired.
“Probably not. Their voice is classified as a weapon of self-defense, after all. The Croon have extremely developed lungs and vocal cords and they can emit high pitched screams capable of achieving the dreaded ‘Brown Note’ for all known species.”
Zane shivered, and the sickness he’d caught was not to blame. “So they’re fairly dangerous, huh?”
“Seeing as they tend to avoid systems that lack advanced technology, I think you’ll be fine,” the droid remarked.
A nod was the only response as Zane had become engrossed in his cooling soup. Plus, the human was hardly insulted. Some of the novelty products he had seen while browsing the shopping catalog put to shame most of what he knew mankind could create.
“Anything else interesting?” Zane asked as he put the empty bowl away.
“There’s always something interesting, but is there anything in particular?”
“Can you check if there is anything pertaining to Charma?” the human inquired.
“Ah, seeking to boost the sales of your girlfriend! A most noble goal. Let me see what I can pull up,” Rob said happily while ignoring Zane’s blushing red. Which contrasted poorly with his fever and made him look like a ketchup covered tomato.
“Let’s see, I think this one might be up your alley,” the droid declared as it brought up an ad.
“There are as many words for ‘love’ as there are beings in the universe,” a soft and soothing voice stated. Charma appeared on the screen moments later, the blue scaled idol dressed in a very flattering dress.
Zane was fairly certain he knew why Rob had chosen this particular commercial. He spared a single glare at the hovering machine who ignored the look by virtue of possessing the greatest poker face in all of existence. Or rather, no face at all.
“But what good is that word without somebeing to spend it with? How can loneliness possibly be averted? Well, the first step is very easy: Sign up for a free trial subscription to Flare, the finest dating site on the exo-net. Perhaps even you can find the being you’ll whisper ‘I love you,’ to.”
“On one hand, I have an urge to try and throttle you for showing me this and you know exactly why,” Zane began, “but on the other hand, I have two questions: why do the commercials all say ‘being’ instead of ‘someone,’ or ‘person?’ And how do dating sites like that actually make any money? I mean, free trial periods seem rather easy to lose money on, especially when betting on love.”
Rob took a few moments to compile an answer. “Your first question is a mix of culture clash and political correctness. Translation programs tend to avoid the words ‘someone’ or ‘person’ and favor ‘being’ due to some members of the Alliance. Like the Dryac, who are composed of a symbiotic brain-altering fungus attached to a psychic tree. Therefore the term ‘one’ was deemed ‘offensive’ to composite and multi-gendered entities. It also has to do with True Intelligence Rights since I and other TI are not organic, and thus not ‘persons,’ technically speaking. The distinction has to be made that the Alliance is all-inclusive.”
“Psychic trees?” That was all the human had really taken from the lecture. To be fair to him, it was something that stuck out to him.
“Yes, psychic trees. Anyways, the matter of money is actually simple for Flare. You see, they offer a discount on weddings if you meet your mate using their free trial subscription,” the droid revealed.
“That’s ingeniously evil! What about divorces?” Zane asked, intrigued by the clever scheme.
“Flare has very good divorce lawyers with very reasonable rates.”
“Diabolical,” Zane whispered in approval. Rob merely bobbed in agreement.
“Any other commercials with Charma in them?” Zane inquired after a lull in conversation.
If faceless hovering drones could look smug, Rob would win first place.
“I do believe I could find one or two more. Hmm, let me check.” Lights flashed and the holo-screen flickered as thousands of searches and results were sorted through at speeds faster than human thought. Which was an official measurement given that telepathy traveled at the speed of thought.
“Here’s a recent one! Let’s take a gander!”
The screen began to display an unfamiliar logo while fanfare music played. No matter what species or how advanced, there were certain kinds of sounds that just pulled off a single style so well it transcended all borders. Alongside elevator music, this phenomenon was referred to as ‘Universal Sonorous Dissonance’ by music theory scholars across the Alliance.
Zane couldn’t find it in himself to care that much about Rob’s explanation on that subject. Not when Charma appeared wearing a very alluring outfit several degrees more daring than the one she’d worn for the dating site commercial. Whatever this ad was selling, it was going to be a doozy.
“We live in a time of peace. An era of prosperity. But for all of our successes, the Planetary Alliance still needs help from everybeing. Apply for Alliance Citizenship to become more than what you are.”
“Huh. That was surprisingly tamer than I thought it would be,” Zane admitted. Contact and legalese scrolled down the screen as the Solar Alliance of Independent Planets’ emblem appeared.
“Tame or not, this is rather worrying,” Rob declared, starting to sort through data pulled from his mini-relay.
“Don’t leave me in suspense after that ominous sentence,” Zane said growing worried.
“Not sure why, but I have some concerns. From my admittedly limited knowledge and experience, the Alliance doesn’t often so bluntly advertise becoming an intergalactic citizen. Not entirely sure why they would do this. I’m trying to look through old exo-net files and sites to see if there is any precedent.”
“Does this really matter?”
Rob paused for a moment, the flurry of electronic activity slowing to a crawl.
“Perhaps. If they are this desperate for manpower, it could mean I could slip in two requests for citizenship and our circumstances could be viewed in a more positive light. Less jail time in exchange for community service kind of deals.”
Zane took a shuddering breath as a chill ran down his spine. Was this a sign? He didn’t really believe in a higher power, and had thought even less of such things since he’d found Rob, but this felt too close to home to be a coincidence.
The drone somehow pulled off a shrug. “Regardless of what the Privy Council’s reasons, this poses an opportunity for us. Think about it. For both our safety and those you care for.”
Chapter 15
“Charma, dear, so glad you could drop by!”
“Of course I’d make time for you,” Charma said happily as she nuzzled her mother.
“She’s just glad you’re taking a break. You’ve been running yourself ragged doing commercials and adverts. I especially like the one for ‘Surprise! Brand Edibles. Something shocking in every bite!’” the idol’s father said as he greeted his daughter in the living room.
“I really wish I had taken a closer look at the picture Kathur wanted to use for that,” Charma grumbled.
“I am quite glad he chose that one, honestly. It had such emotion in it!” Keela Karzenk praised. “But you’ve been doing a lot of Alliance focused commercials recently. Is there something going on?”
“No idea. They just wanted a soothing voice and paid well for it,” the singer admitted.
“By the way, you got a package. From a certain ‘Zane Pendon,’” Orm said. His grin turned very toothy as Charma’s crest flared. “Now why would he have our address? Unless somebeing wanted to avoid the publicity of receiving gifts from a mysterious paramour, and gave said paramour her parent’s mailing address.
”
“Kathur always personally checks my mail, I didn’t want him to get any funny ideas!”
“So letting your mother and I have ideas of our own was better?” Orm teased as Keela placed the unopened plastic delivery container in her daughter’s hands.
“I will open this and see what is inside, but only if you promise not to make any comments that might be construed as teasing, innuendo, or relating to children, grand or otherwise.”
“Deal. If it’s food though I expect a third of it in exchange for my silence,” Orm said. Charma nodded and pressed her scaly palm to that of her father’s in the Dren handshake.
“Hmm. Never seen this kind of material before… not plastic, that’s for sure. Too flimsy. Feels like paper,” Charma mused as she removed a note that lay atop several boxes of something. Dark brown colored insect-things decorated the packages, and these too had a papery feel.
“I think this stuff is cardboard. Used by rich beings as packing material for luxury goods,” Keela announced as she plucked one of the tiny boxes from the container.
“Now I definitely approve of this mystery paramour! Rich and sends food!” Orm said with a laugh as he examined the alien writing on the packages. “So, what does the note say?”
“Let me see. Ahem!” Charma cleared her throat.
“Dear Charma, I was out shopping when I saw this and thought of you. You said you liked bugs and such, right? Well, these are chocolate covered ants, a novelty delicacy on my planet. I checked with Rob and my newly purchased Star-Helix medi-organi-scanner and have confirmed chocolate is something you can safely consume. As well as the ants. Please enjoy. From, Zane. PS, Rob is the one writing what I say in Drenalic. I myself am not capable of writing it so I delegated.”
“You sure they’re safe to eat?” Keela asked hesitantly. The animal certainly looked like an insect, if a little small, but the smell from the coating was rather… intoxicating. Was it drugs? Was her daughter’s kinda-sorta boyfriend a drug dealer?!
Before her mother’s mind could conjure more terrible scenarios about the circumstances, Charma quickly opened a box and scarfed a handful of chocolate ants. Purely for the sake of testing for poison and quality control.
The idol’s eyes widened, her crest popped up fully erect, and a hiss of satisfaction wormed its way from her mouth.
“So, they taste good, I take it?”
Her father’s question was answered by her tipping the rest of the box’s contents into her maw. Shrugging, Orm took a handful himself before the exact same reaction occurred. And so, giving in to peer pressure, Keela sampled the foreign dish as well.
Silence. Sweet, soothing silence born of the bliss of aliens experiencing the food of the gods for the first time ever. Of course, it had to end eventually.
“Chacha, my hatchling, if you do not marry this being and give me grandbabies and more of these delicious chocolate ants I will be most annoyed. Most annoyed indeed.”
“Mom!”
“Listen to and obey your mother, Charma.”
“Dad!”
“Should I start looking into wedding materials? Didn’t you get a special discount for doing that one Flare commercial?”
“MOM!”
“Achoo!”
“I thought you said you’d gotten over your cold!”
“I did! Honest, Vera! It must be the spices in the air!”
Zane gave a hurt look towards his sister as she curled protectively in front of her son and daughter. The adorable tykes were sleeping on the couch, tuckered out from all the excitement.
Yet as cute as Jack and Donna looked as they slept next to each other while holding hands, the live-at-home coder could not help but stared worriedly at Veronica.
In the month since he had seen his sister she had become even more sunken and worn down. Cheeks were boney, flesh sunken, hair looking about to fall out in clumps, and nothing she wore seemed to fit her shriveled frame. Something was wrong and Zane was kicking himself for not insisting to Rob that he be allowed to bring the medi-organi-scanner.
“Maybe someone’s talking about you? Isn’t there a superstition like that?” Vera mused.
“Is there? Can’t say I’ve heard of that one before,” Zane said. He took a careful sip from his bubbly cider and was silently grateful it had so little alcohol. The last thing Zane needed was to get loose lips and spill even more secrets in front of his family.
“Cinnamon always made you sneeze when you were younger, Zane. Maybe the gingerbread your father made is getting to you?” Mrs. Pendon asked in concern.
“Who knows?”
The sound of dishes being washed could be heard from the Pendon family’s kitchen, and for a while the family was content to sit and relax.
“By the way, thank you for the Christmas present you sent me,” Veronica said after checking on her kids. She fiddled absentmindedly with a gold and silver necklace that shone with the various light sources in the room. It was almost ethereal in appearance.
“Yes indeed! I don’t know what sort of polish you used, but I haven’t seen your grandmother’s jewelry sparkle like this in years,” Sally Pendon said happily as she examined the gem studded brooch on her sweater.
“Well, I found some of her old pieces, and I had a feeling Nana and Gramps wouldn’t mind if I cleaned them up a bit for you two,” Zane said sheepishly. The Sparkly Sheen had done wonders on the antique jewelry, making the precious metals and stones gleam.
“Real sorry I couldn’t make it for Christmas,” the young man lamented. “I would have loved to see you all then. But apparently some idiot at the firm deleted half the section of code I’d been working on for the last few weeks. Took me a while to fix their mistakes.”
“At least you’re here for New Years. Plus, you get to take Don’s place. This time of year is really busy for night clubs since everyone wants to party non-stop. He’s almost been holed up in his office managing all the events and such,” Vera stated proudly with just a hint of regret.
“Did he like his gift?” inquired the coder. His sister nodded.
“Oh yeah! He said he’d never seen such a deep, vibrant shade of black before. Where’d you find it?”
“Got it from Gramp’s house,” Zane said. It was sort of true. The substance in question had been part of the packing materials in one of his orders. In addition to its light and heat absorbing properties it had felt like soft rubber and was fairly susceptible to scissors. His brother-in-law could probably find a use for the artificial cloth. Maybe make a new beret?
And speaking of gifts, he hoped Charma had gotten the chocolate ants. He, or rather Rob, had sent them back during Thanksgiving. He wasn’t sure about the delivery timeframes. A month or so was apparently standard for transporting non-living materials through the Crown Corps. automated delivery network. But the human still had trouble wrapping his head around how their FTL systems worked. Rob compared it to ‘quantum catapults with a bubble of reality.’
To understand what little information on various faster-than-light travel methods that were declassified by the Alliance for public viewing one needed a Masters in physics. Zane considered himself a smart cookie, but every other word in Rob’s explanation had involved the term ‘quantum’ so he’d given up on trying to comprehend that particular mystery.
“You’re still finding things hidden here and there?” Vera demanded in disbelief. Zane nodded.
“Last week when I was in the basement doing laundry I stumbled onto a box full of old suits and dresses, most of them from the 1960’s or so. There were tucked away under a pile of broken vacuum cleaner parts, two old plastic Christmas trees, about a mile of lights, and a single Hanukkah menorah.”
“Why? Why would Gramps have that?” the sister griped with a shake of her head. Her brother shrugged helplessly.
“Pops was a hoarder. He claimed it was because you never knew when something would be useful. Admittedly there were times he was right. Did I ever tell you about the time he saved Tiny Debra,
the award winning race horse, because pops just so happened to possess a saddle, two rolls of gauze, and a back issue copy of Rancher Monthly?” Ralph Pendon inquired as he stepped into the living room. He held an additional bottle of holiday cider and shared it with his family.
“Yeah, and he had all those items while he was at the race track. Gramps may have mentioned that story once or twice,” Zane said dryly. Nods went around the room.
“Hey, did he ever show you his medal collection from the war?”
“Sure he did. Lots of times. Why, did you find more?”
“Maybe. Did he ever store them in a military issued footlocker?” Zane asked cautiously. His mind flickered back to the Alliance war medal Rob had uncovered.
“Yeah, I think he did. Didn’t like us rooting through it, though. Tanned your Uncle Francis’ hide for getting into it once. He treated it like a shrine to his friends who died in Europe. He kept their dog-tags with him in there,” Mr. Pendon said as he thought back to the old days.
A moment of respectful silence passed before Zane raised his glass. “Happy New Year! May we never forget the past!”
His family raised their own glasses and echoed the young man’s words. “Happy New Year!”
After a round of clinking glasses and drinking, Sally Pendon leaned over to her son.
“By the way, when can I expect to start planning your wedding with this ‘Chacha’ woman?”
“Mom!”
“Do it sooner rather than later, Sally. That way we won’t have to worry about his dragging his feet for a few years.”
“Dad!”
“Eh, it’d just be easier to do a shotgun wedding. Although knowing Zane I doubt it’ll ever come to that. Unless we get him really drunk.”
