Bond: Stargazer Alien Mail Order Brides (Intergalactic Dating Agency)

by Tasha Black

Bond turned to face him.

  “We don’t know what’s in there,” Magnum warned. “It could be a trap.”

  “What are we supposed to do?” Posey argued.

  “Is there another entrance?” Magnum asked Rima. “One that offers a more strategic advantage?”

  “Yes, in back,” Rima told him.

  They continued down the block until they reached an inlet to the alley behind the shops. In the rear of Klingon Karaoke was a Bilco door, leading below street level.

  “It may be locked,” Rima said. “But we can try it.”

  Magnum motioned for her to step aside. He bent and unlatched the lock. Then he lifted one side, effortlessly scooped up Rima in his arms, and descended the metal steps to another door that led under the building.

  Bond stepped down and offered Posey his hand.

  She couldn’t help but notice how princely he looked.

  They entered the basement level of the bar. Thankfully, no one seemed to be down there. They wended their way through shelves full of supplies until they reached a spiral staircase.

  “This way?” Magnum asked Rima.

  She shrugged.

  “I’ve never come in this way, but it makes sense to go up.”

  Magnum started up the stairs, dragging Rima with him.

  Bond gestured for Posey to go first, which she did, wondering as soon as she started climbing if he had wanted to go behind so he could look up her dress.

  She shivered at the thought and then remembered what he had said about shivering.

  Down, girl, she told herself.

  Posey heard Rima gasp as she emerged at the top of the steps. Worried, she took the remaining stairs two at a time.

  She reached the top and kept walking forward to make room for Bond to get up.

  The light was so bright after the darkness of the basement that it took her eyes a moment to adjust.

  She let out an almost identical gasp to Rima’s.

  They hadn’t just found a way upstairs, they had managed to enter directly onto the stage.

  A sea of faces looked up at them expectantly from the audience.

  “Oh, man, our next performers came in costume,” the DJ crooned delightedly from behind the sound system. “Let me guess, you’re going to do something from Rocky Horror?”

  Rima’s mouth gaped open and shut. The poor kid was afraid to answer a question in class. This would be a nightmare for her.

  Posey looked to Bond, but he and Magnum studied the audience carefully, obviously looking for their friend and not concerned about what was happening on stage.

  So it was up to Posey.

  “How about Strength of the Pack?” she suggested, unsure why the Johnny Lazarus rock ballad had popped into her head.

  “Niiiice,” the DJ said.

  Immediately the familiar guitar riff cut through the air of the bar, followed by a beat of silence, and the song kicked in.

  “Rima,” Posey hissed, as the lyrics appeared on the screen.

  But Rima was staring out into the audience in blank faced terror.

  The bouncing ball on the screen indicated the beginning of the song, and Posey took a deep breath and began to imitate the unique scream-singing of rock star Johnny Lazarus.

  “You can’t fight the…

  Strength…

  Of…

  The…

  Pack,” she belted at the top of her lungs.

  She got a couple of screams and whistles from the audience, so she continued, sort of enjoying herself even as her heart threatened to beat out of her chest.

  Meanwhile, Magnum must have spotted something. He swept Rima into his arms and leapt from the stage with Bond flanking him.

  Unsure what to do next, Posey launched into some big air guitar moves to distract the audience. Then the second chorus began and she had to keep her eyes on the screen.

  “You can’t hide the…

  Strength…

  Of…

  The…

  Pack,” she sang, sneaking a glance into the audience again.

  Relief flooded her veins.

  Magnum, Bond and Rima were standing by a booth, where Georgia sat next to the other guy they had called Rocky. She looked wet and tired, but otherwise okay.

  Whoever had taken that shot at them hadn’t followed Georgia here.

  The moment the song was over, Posey threw her hands up, pointer and pinky extended, middle two fingers touching the thumb, in the wolf’s head gesture Johnny’s fans were so fond of, then headed offstage to join her friends.

  The whole bar cheered for her.

  She smiled and gave a little bow, on her way past the DJ.

  “Work it, baby,” he advised her.

  Then he proceeded to introduce the next singer, a young man with a lot of eye make-up who looked like he was pretty steamed that Posey had come up the back stairs to cut in line and steal his thunder.

  Oh well.

  That’s show business, baby.

  11

  Posey

  Posey scrambled over to the table to join her friends.

  “Are you okay?” she asked Georgia, slipping past Rima, Magnum and Bond to wrap an arm around her friend. “I thought I heard a gunshot.”

  “I’m fine, it only grazed me,” Georgia said lightly.

  “So you did get shot?” Posey asked, feeling the blood drain away from her head. This would not be a good time to faint.

  “I told you, it’s just a scratch,” she said, meeting Posey’s eyes. “I’m fine. I promise.”

  That was a relief.

  “Now what?” Rima asked.

  “We stay in public, in full view, where no one will come after us until we figure it out,” Georgia said.

  That made sense. It was unlikely that anyone would confront them in front of a crowd.

  Bond slid into the booth next to her.

  A waiter passed them with a tray of cheeseburgers. The scent was irresistible.

  Posey’s stomach grumbled.

  She was mortified. She glanced up at Bond, hoping he hadn’t heard it.

  “You’re supposed to eat something when it does that,” he whispered to her conspiratorially.

  Oh brother.

  “I’d love to eat something. But I, um, don’t have any money with me,” she whispered back, gesturing to her dress. Where would she even put it in this getup?

  “I have money,” Bond said with a half smile.

  Posey sighed in relief, but realized they would never get the waiter’s attention. The place was busy and the singer they had preempted was unexpectedly belting out a loud DMX number.

  Bond merely looked up in the waiter’s direction.

  As if he heard distant music, the waiter stopped and turned dreamily.

  When he was fully facing their table, Bond raised his hand politely and the man headed right to them.

  That was lucky.

  “Cheeseburgers and Fuzzy Navels for everyone,” Bond said with a flourish of his hand.

  “Fuzzy Navels,” the waiter repeated incredulously.

  “Very good,” Bond nodded.

  “I’m on it, yes sir,” the waiter said, seeming to remember himself.

  “Could I get some hot sauce?” Posey added.

  “Sure thing,” the waiter replied, then disappeared into the crowd.

  “Gross,” Georgia said.

  “Georgia, this is Bond,” Posey said politely.

  “Rocky, Posey, Rima,” Georgia said in a way that made her sound like she was either bored or in a hurry.

  “Nice to meet you,” Posey said to Rocky.

  He smiled back at her in a sweet way. He had large, dark eyes and raven hair that was a bit too long. A nice contrast against the pinks and oranges of Georgia’s coloring.

  “Magnum,” the largest one growled, thrusting his hand across the table at Georgia.

  “Hi,” Georgia said with a smile that didn’t go to her eyes. She gave him her hand and seemed horrified when he shook it hard.

 
“So,” Georgia said, when Magnum finally let go, “who is trying to kill us?”

  “We don’t know,” Rima answered.

  “They do,” Georgia said, indicating the men.

  “We do not,” Magnum said, slamming a fist on the table.

  “Magnum,” Bond said with a smile. “These young women don’t know us yet.” He turned to Georgia. “We were as shocked as you were at the attack. Did you see or hear anything that might help us figure out who did this?”

  Georgia shook her head.

  “Let me see your arm,” Posey asked.

  Georgia offered it.

  They all examined the angry red wound on her arm that was already beginning to scab over. It really did look like more of a scrape than a bullet wound.

  “So it must have come from the area beyond the pond, not the observatory,” Georgia stated, matter-of-factly.

  “Why do you say that?” Posey asked.

  “Look at the angle,” Georgia said, tracing the line of the wound in the air above it.

  That was exactly the type of thinking that was going to make Georgia one hell of a cop.

  “What’s back there?” Georgia asked Rima.

  Rima looked a little uncomfortable.

  “Our ship,” Rocky said.

  Oh.

  “Is there… anyone else here with you from… your home?” Posey asked as politely as she could.

  “No,” Bond said, “of course not.”

  “And if there were, they wouldn’t use such primitive weapons,” Magnum scoffed.

  Georgia glared at him.

  “Maybe it was just some hunter,” Posey suggested. “He could have been shooting at a deer or something, and we were just in the wrong place.”

  “Unlikely,” Rima chimed in. “First of all, it’s not deer season yet.”

  “How do you even know that?” Georgia asked.

  “It’s a big deal out here,” Rima replied. “Most of the boys take off school that week.”

  “How lovely.” Posey had never had much stomach for killing things. She preferred to think of her dinner as coming from a plastic-wrapped package in a supermarket.

  “Plus the shot didn’t come from a deer rifle,” Rima added. “We heard the report before we felt the bullet whiz by, which means it was moving at subsonic speeds. We’re talking about a gun with a muzzle velocity of less than eleven-hundred feet per second. A bullet from a deer rifle is going to be traveling way faster than that, even after you take into account the loss of velocity due to air resistance. It had to be a handgun of some sort. Probably something big.”

  They all stared. It was easy to forget how smart Rima was sometimes.

  “Cool,” Georgia returned, obviously impressed.

  “Here’s your dinner,” the waiter said, placing a tray of burgers between the two. “Back in a flash with those Fuzzy Navels.”

  In the center of the tray sat a small bottle of hot sauce labeled Ass in Space. Nice.

  Posey opened her bun and slathered the contents with enough hot sauce to make her eyes water, then sank her teeth into the juicy burger. Perfect. The accusations could wait. A girl needed sustenance after all.

  She was about to take her second bite, when her meal was interrupted. “There they are,” a voice shouted hoarsely from the other side of the room.

  Posey looked up to see a scruffy looking young man pointing at her. He wore a plaid flannel shirt over his wide shoulders, and sported a battered baseball cap. He looked like he might have stepped right out of a John Deere commercial.

  Next to him stood two other men, so similar to him in hygiene and fashion as to be practically his twins, or triplets, she supposed.

  All three carried guns at their hips.

  Big handguns. Just like Rima said.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Posey whimpered.

  “I will stay and fight,” Magnum boomed.

  “Not with a flesh and blood body against guns you won’t,” Georgia hissed. “Move it, loser.”

  Flannel Shirt was walking toward them slowly.

  “Please, Magnum. There are innocent bystanders here,” Rima said softly. “Let’s leave the building so that none of them get hurt.”

  Magnum appeared to consider.

  “Very well. Bond, deal with them while I get the women to safety.”

  What?

  But Bond only nodded thoughtfully and turned toward the men, who were now only three tables away.

  Posey froze with horror.

  At least she hoped it was horror. She hoped she wasn’t attached enough to Bond that she was risking life and limb to stay with him.

  While the others scrambled out of the booth, Bond smiled calmly at their assailants.

  Flannel Shirt dropped his hand to the butt of his pistol.

  “Slow down, friends,” he said with a creepy smile.

  This was going to be trouble.

  “What seems to be the problem?” Bond asked politely. “Would you like to sit?”

  “No, I don’t want to sit with you,” the man retorted. “I know what you are.”

  “Don’t embarrass yourself,” Bond advised him quietly. “Sit down and talk with me, while you have the chance.”

  One of the other men let out a humorless laugh.

  “I got nothing to say to a bunch of weird Satan worshippers,” Flannel said loudly, unsnapping his holster.

  There was a buzz at the nearby tables.

  Posey trembled and clung to Bond’s arm.

  Bond looked down at her as if he had forgotten she was there.

  He frowned and turned back to Flannel shirt.

  “Enough.” His voice was still calm, but the kindness had gone from it, like a blade that’s been unsheathed. “You’re going to leave now. You just remembered something important.”

  The man blinked as if he’d just awakened from a dream.

  “Earl, you okay?” asked one of his companions.

  “All of you,” Bond added, speaking to the two men who flanked Flannel - Earl.

  Posey’s mouth dropped open as she watched a confused calm wash over the three men. As one, they all turned toward the entrance and walked away.

  “Go,” Bond said, nudging Posey.

  Posey’s limbs suddenly obeyed her and she dashed from the booth back onto the stage, past a bewildered singer, and down the spiral stairs into the basement.

  After clattering up the metal stairs and out the Bilco door to the alleyway, she was relieved to see her friends, and to hear the sound of Bond’s footsteps clanging up the stairs behind her.

  “Now what?” Georgia demanded of Rocky.

  “Now we fly,” Rocky said.

  12

  Posey

  The next thing Posey remembered was waking up, cradled in someone’s arms for the second time that night.

  But this time she was moving.

  She let her eyelids open just a crack and saw Bond’s face silhouetted against the night sky. There was no sign of her friends - they must have taken separate routes.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “I helped you,” he said lightly.

  He was wearing that annoying little superior half-smile. And his hair looked way too good for someone who just survived a standoff in a karaoke bar in rural Pennsylvania.

  “What the hell?” she asked. “Are you like, Obi Wan Kenobi or something?”

  “Ah, Star Wars. These are not the droids you’re looking for,” he chuckled. “Very astute.”

  “You - you can control minds,” Posey stammered, horrified.

  “A little,” Bond conceded. “And only for a short time.”

  “Did you control my mind?” Posey asked.

  “I merely suggested that you might like to rest for a few minutes,” he told her. “It’s cold out here, and you were very frightened.”

  “It’s not a suggestion if I don’t have a choice,” Posey said. “I knew something was off about this.”

  “What do you mean? I thought I saved us back
there? And just now I helped you.”

  Posey took a moment to compose her thoughts. Bond wasn’t from here, maybe he didn’t understand.

  “It’s very rude to mess with someone’s thoughts,” she explained.

  “It is?” he asked. “This planet seems to be covered in attempts to influence the thoughts of many. Dr. Bhimani calls them ads.”

  “Yes,” she told him. “And that’s different. People still have a choice.”

  Coke or Pepsi, iOS or Android, Micky D’s or BK - maybe it wasn’t much of a choice, but it was there, and that’s what mattered.

  “I see,” he replied.

  He walked on for a while without saying anything more, his blue eyes thoughtful. Posey was lost in her own thoughts about the illusion of choice when he spoke again.

  “So, back there, it would have been better for me to allow that man to harm you, or to begin a conflict that would have ended in injury to many, than to suggest he leave?”

  Posey fought the urge to hit him in frustration.

  Then she considered his thoughtful tone. He wasn’t being a smart-ass.

  In spite of that irksome confidence, he was really a baby in a lot of ways.

  “Bond, honey, I should have spoken more carefully. It is rude to go into your friends’ heads like that. But if someone is trying to harm me or your brothers or anyone else, it’s fine to do what you did to protect everyone. Just… try to be subtle about it. That’s not normal here.”

  “I see,” he mused. “It is confusing. Next time I will ask you what I should do.”

  She noticed that he glanced down as if to see what effect those words had on her.

  She couldn’t help smiling.

  “Good idea. I’ll keep you out of trouble,” she told him.

  “I see,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “But who will keep you out of trouble?”

  Posey felt it to her toes - the warm tingling feeling he’d awoken in her earlier.

  But, no, she wasn’t going to give in again.

  He was an alien. She couldn’t trust his agenda. And even if his motives were straightforward, look what had already happened: the locals had already sensed there was something off about these guys. It was only a matter of time before they figured out the truth, which was much weirder than some cult religion.