Poseidon held up his hand, and the room went silent. “Jessica Natalie Martinez is a name my people are familiar with. They do not know Steven Sarah Callup.”
Sarah?
“Jessica Natalie Martinez will be welcomed. She will be granted more opportunities than a stranger to our people. Jessica Natalie is our photographer. So it has been decided.”
Whoa. Totally spoken like a guy who’s used to getting what he wants.
“Nothing’s been decided,” Dad said. “I’m not letting my daughter anywhere near another spaceship.”
Poseidon-guy tilted his head as if contemplating Dad before turning to me. “I have the understanding that in your culture once a child achieves eighteen years of life, they are considered an adult and are able to make their own decisions. Am I correct in this?”
Darn, his eyes were blue. I remembered gazing into David’s eyes the first time. The turquoise freaked me out initially, but wow, were they a gorgeous color.
Oh, we weren’t talking about colors; we were talking about decisions. Me—eighteen and all decision-worthy. Imagine that.
Dad’s cheeks exploded in an interesting shade of purplish-red.
I sidestepped toward him, since Poseidon had totally invaded my personal space, and pulled my father to the side. “Dad, this is the photo-op of a lifetime.”
“What happened to taking pictures of the news and not being the news?”
“I’m not going to be news. I’m going up, taking a few pictures, and coming back. What could go wrong?”
He folded his arms and raised one eyebrow.
Okay, so maybe last time I snuck out to take pictures I ran into a guy from another planet and nearly got killed a few times, but that worked out, right? And now, everyone knew there were aliens, so it was no biggie anymore.
When the other eyebrow shot up, I knew he wouldn’t come around to my thinking.
Shoot. Please forgive me, Dad.
I turned to Poseidon. “You’re right. I am eighteen, and I’d love to be your photographer.”
Dad growled.
Dang, he actually growled! I lowered my eyes, careful not to look at him. If I did, I knew he’d use “The Voice,” or stare me down with those Major Tomás Martinez eyes, and I’d be doing time locked in solitary confinement for the next month.
Nope, I wasn’t going there. At least not yet. I wouldn’t mind being locked up in my room once I had pictures of an alien spaceship to rifle through, though.
“Excellent,” Poseidon said. “We will leave immediately.”
Huh? “Immediately? As in now?”
Dad slid between me and the alien with all the grace of a gazelle—a gazelle ready to kick someone’s rear end two ways from Sunday, but still a gazelle.
“Stand down, Tom,” General Baker said.
“I’m not letting them take my daughter.”
The general placed his hand on Dad’s shoulder. That simple gesture calmed both their faces. One second he was General Baker, the next second he was Dad’s longtime friend. “The ambassador has personally guaranteed her safety. She’ll be fine.”
“You knew? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Gentlemen,” Poseidon interrupted. “My schedule does not allow for delay.”
Dad’s hands formed fists. “I’m going with her.”
“The Caretakers have granted access for one,” Poseidon said.
“Then get permission for one more.” Dad’s eyes blazed as he leaned toward him.
Damn, he could be scary.
The Erescopian didn’t balk. “Only. One.”
General Baker moved between them. “I’ll have her at your ship in fifteen minutes.”
6
Fifteen minutes? I guess packing fresh underwear was out of the question.
Poseidon and Nematali disappeared through one of the three doors in the room, while the general herded Callup, Dad, and I through the other.
“This is crazy, Jack,” Dad said. “Why only one, and why a kid?”
“This is the first opportunity we’ve gotten from them, Tom. We need to take advantage of it.”
“You wouldn’t say that if it were Maggie.”
The general flinched. His eyes darted to me. “Jess is tough as nails. Like her father. She can do what we need her to do.”
“Need her to do?”
Callup plopped his bag on a table set beside the window and switched out the lens on his Nikon. “They are going to bring you along a very safe path when you get up there. Take pictures of everything you see. Do you have a camera?”
“Yeah.” I unzipped my backpack and showed him Old Reliable.
His nose turned up. “Piece of crap. Take mine. I’ve got a spare in the car.” He handed me his Nikon.
Hand shaking, I reached for the golden goose of all cameras, but hesitated. Enough buttons adorned the casing to make NASA proud. I salivated, dreaming of sitting back and figuring out what each setting could do. It would take hours. Long, glorious, fun-filled hours that I didn’t have.
I shook my head. “Sorry, I feel more comfortable with my own. It’s not as fancy, but it’s definitely not a piece of crap.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He placed the camera back into the bag. “Being a photojournalist is not just about taking pictures. It’s about knowing what to take, and how to get the shot. You want to take the pictures they are not expecting. You need to see the things they don’t show you. Don’t be afraid to get the real story.”
Dad pulled me away from him. “Do exactly what they tell you to do, and only take pictures of what they say you can. Don’t make waves.”
Callup shook his head like Dad was the king of Loserville.
The general took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The Erescopians have not been forthright in sharing any technology. Any information you can obtain … ”
“Dammit, Jack,” Dad said. “She’s not a spy. She’s a kid.”
“That kid’s about to go into the belly of the beast,” Callup interjected. “Earth needs an edge. Photojournalists who slip behind enemy lines have provided that advantage for years. The pictures we get out of combat zones are some of the best intel our boys receive.” He shifted his weight. “Risk is a given. It’s part of the job.”
“Screw the job.” Dad stepped in front of me. “I’m not letting you put her in danger.”
I shoved him to the side. “Dad, no one is putting me in danger.” I trembled, knowing that wasn’t entirely true. Part of me was scared to death, but the part that didn’t like being sheltered salivated over the chance to do something exciting. I turned to Callup. “What do you need me to do?”
He handed me a memory card. “This should fit your camera. It’s enough for about ten thousand pictures. Fill it—no matter how trivial a picture seems. You never know what might be in the background that you didn’t see.”
I nodded. Easy enough.
“Don’t be afraid to hold the camera around a corner and snap a picture without looking. After taking a shot of the main subject, zoom in on something else, but make them think you’re still taking pictures of them. Exploit any and all opportunities.”
Whoa. I would never have thought of that.
The general pointed at me. “Information. That’s what we need, but that’s not what we’re getting. We need to know what’s going on up there. We need to know if Earth is still at risk.”
The trip didn’t seem all that exciting anymore. I gulped and wiped the dampness from my forehead.
Callup checked his watch. “We have four minutes.”
“Can I have three of them?” Dad asked.
The general nodded, and the two men left the room.
My heart fluttered and my mind reeled, repeating Callup’s directions. Was I really going to do this? Could I do this?
I waited for Dad’s obligatory speech begging me not to go. Part of me was ready to give in, to stay where it was safe. But safe never got
anyone anywhere.
Dad took two swift strides and pulled me into a hug. “Don’t listen to them. Don’t take any risks.”
I relished his embrace, but his arms suddenly felt like giant shields trying to smother me. When Mom was alive, it was all about what could be: taking the future by the horns and wrestling it into tomorrow, whatever that meant. Dad had been a big part of that, but I hadn’t seen that version of him in over a year. Now it was all about status quo, not taking risks, playing it safe. I couldn’t be that person. I guess he was right. There was too much of Mom in me.
“I have to do this, Dad.”
“I know you do.”
I released our hug. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
His eyes widened. “Dammit, Natalie.” He clutched his temples and turned from me.
Did he just call me Natalie?
The veins in his neck and arms pulsed. He grabbed the back of a chair.
“Dad?”
He turned with the agility of a lethal weapon poised to strike. His eyes flared. I stepped back. This man wasn’t my father. He blinked, and the demon soldier disappeared.
Holy heck, what was that?
“Dad, you’re scaring me. Are you okay?”
His hands trembled, still clutching the chair. He took deep, slow breaths. “There was a kid under my command in Iraq—Colin, Colin Masters. About two minutes before he stepped into an ambush, he told us he’d ‘be back before we knew it.’” Dad’s hand tightened on the cloth chair back. “And when you and your mom left for the store that day … ” He closed his eyes. “It was the last thing she ever said to me.”
Dang. He’d never told me that. “Dad, that’s not going to be the last thing I say to you. I’m coming back. I promise.”
He pulled me into another hug as General Baker returned.
“Ready, Jess?”
Maybe. I wasn’t all that sure anymore.
Dad’s strong-soldier-face returned, but his eyes betrayed fears deeper and darker than I could imagine.
“When I get back, I want tacos, okay?”
He smiled.
Well, he almost smiled. I’d have to alleviate that problem by coming home, and never saying “I’ll be back before you know it” again.
“Tacos it is, but you’re cooking.” He ruffled my hair.
Geeze, Dad, I’m not six. I rolled my eyes, but I warmed inside. I’d never openly admit it, but I loved when he did that.
“They’re waiting.” General Baker motioned to the door.
Callup gave me more directions as we walked down a stark, white hallway. General Baker displayed a badge to open three doors that slammed shut behind us. I did my best to concentrate on everything Callup said, while not getting all goofy over the fact that Steven Callup—yes, the Steven Callup was giving me advice on how to catch award-winning shots. Crazy. Just crazy.
Dad walked beside me, eyes forward. He cringed every time Callup or the general said anything that sounded even remotely dangerous.
Please. Like I’d have the guts to steal top-secret alien technology and bring it back to Earth. I wasn’t some kind of klepto or anything.
The final gate took the general’s key and Dad’s key turning in unison. After a green light flashed, the guard at the door leaned toward the wall as a beam of red light trailed down his left eye. When he straightened, a tone sounded, and the door opened.
Dang. It had been easier to get into the White House.
The metal wall before us parted to reveal a circular room with a big hole in the ceiling. Well, at least it looked like a big hole. Maybe it was a telescope room in a past life, but now that opening was filled with thick, black liquid cascading to the floor like a shimmering ebony waterfall.
All those goofy feelings about getting advice from my idol melted away. I didn’t even tingle when Callup patted my shoulder and wished me luck. This was real. A spaceship. Me. Alone. What the frig was I thinking?
I shivered, remembering the night when the world almost ended, and dozens of these waterfalls came down and touched the Earth—each one leading to a floating spaceship. I squinted, searching for the ship I knew hovered above, but I couldn’t see beyond the white tiles covering the ceiling.
Nematali appeared from the other side of the waterfall. “Are you ready for your journey, little one?”
“I guess.” What was I supposed to say? How does one ready themselves for a trip to outer space? I grasped my necklace, drawing on Mom’s strength. I could do this. Easy breezy. Like getting on a bus.
Wait. This wasn’t a bus. Was there air up there? Must be, since Nematali was breathing our air right now. But didn’t I need a helmet and anti-gravity training or something? Would the ride be all jiggly, like a plane? What if I threw up?
My abdomen did a big old flipperoo. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.
Dad helped me take the books out of my bag. No need to worry about Algebra or Spanish up there, I guess.
He kissed my forehead. “Stay safe.”
Any other time I would have joked that no photojournalist ever played it safe, but I knew even walking toward that ship squashed every notion of safety. No matter what, my life was about to change. Not that it hadn’t already, but I was about to change from “that girl who found the alien” to “the one who walked onto a spaceship.”
This was huge. Huger than huge.
I inched toward the waterfall, Nematali by my side. I flushed straight down to my toes. If I didn’t get a hold of myself I was gonna yack all over the place.
Approaching the entrance to the ship was easier when David stood at my side. He calmed me, centered me, and helped me to focus. But he wasn’t here with me now. And this time I was actually getting on the spaceship, not just saying goodbye at the front door.
My heart pounded against my ribcage. Today was the day the world found out what Jessica Martinez was made of, and I refused to let anyone down.
Reaching out, I ran my fingers through the liquid waterfall. The chill stung, colder than I remembered. The liquid reformed as I pulled my hand free, no different than if I had splashed the water in a swimming pool, but this water was black, and flowing in a constant stream from the sky. I furrowed my brow and peeked around the side of the column. The liquid seemed to flow downward from every angle. It had to flow back up into the ship somewhere, didn’t it?
A slight tone sounded, as if from inside the column, and the water parted. Blinding yellow light filled the room. I turned to the people gathered behind us. Steven Callup knelt on one knee, taking pictures. I flinched, feeling for my camera nestled within my backpack. I should probably be hitting my own shutter button, but without knowing what I was about to step into, I wanted my hands free. I’d grab Old Reliable as soon as I—the water changed. It seemed to flow up, now.
“It’s time,” Nematali said, motioning to the light.
My gaze found Dad’s. He held perfectly still beside General Baker, his posture stiff. A solid, strong, rigid soldier ready for anything. His eyes told a different story, though.
“I’m coming back, Dad,” I whispered. “I promise.”
Then, taking the biggest breath of my life, I stepped into the light.
7
Heat engulfed me as if I’d treaded into the winds of the Sahara Desert, minus the bite of the sand. I closed my eyes and tried to back out, but a solid wall met my rear where the exit had been only a moment before.
“Nematali?” I reached out my hands, searching, unable to see in the blinding light.
“Relax,” her voice called, sounding farther away than was possible.
Relax, she said. Easy for her to say when she knew what to do inside a stream of liquefied metal.
My stomach fell out from under me. The roaring heat swirled, spinning and sucking me up as if I were trapped in a sweltering, yellow tornado.
Then the suction stopped, dropping me like a sack of dog food. I crashed onto a warm, hard floor. Ow.
/> My pulse throbbed in my temples. That was, by far, the freakiest thing that had ever happened to me.
“Are you all right?” Nematali asked, not at all rattled.
Let’s see, I was just jettisoned through a boiling hot pipe, twisted around, and then regurgitated onto a tiled floor. Was I okay? “Umm, yeah. I guess so.”
“Excellent. Many trainees are disconcerted the first time they board an intergalactic craft.”
I tried to hide my shudder. Was this an intergalactic craft? Was I in a spaceship?
Shiny silver walls, maybe twelve feet high, rose around me. Sweat dampened my hair and tee-shirt as I struggled to breathe the humid air.
“Welcome to Intergalactic Research Vessel 87.”
Wow. A number. How original.
The ceiling glittered like water on a lake at night. Liquescent. Molten ebony. But other than that, nothing. I mean, shouldn’t there be flashing lights? Robots? Big windows to look outside at the stars? What was I supposed to take pictures of?
I pulled out my camera anyway and snapped a picture of Nematali. I tried focusing in on the wall behind her, but it came up a blur.
“I have been instructed to give you a modest tour,” she said. “Shall we begin?”
“Awesome.” I adjusted my backpack on my shoulder and raised the lens. As Nematali started to walk, I pressed the movie button.
Two points for my journalistic instincts, because the metal wall wavered as we approached. The surface buckled, then shined, shimmered, and began to flow like the waterfall we rode to get onto the ship. Nematali reached out, and the waters parted as if listening to her commands.
Un-freaking-real! And I got it all on video. YouTube, here I come.
We walked through the door, and the waters closed behind us, becoming solid before I could turn around and catch it on film. Shoot. But boy, was what I recorded going to be a treat for everyone back home. I tapped the end button and flagged the video. This one was definitely getting uploaded first.
A voice echoed through the stark, silvery-gray hallway. The words tinkled through the air like a Norwegian woman singing. Not that I knew what Norwegian sounded like or anything, but the voice sounded like singing.
Ashes in the Sky Page 4
