Starstruck

by S E Anderson

  “Sorry about that.”

  “No, don't apologize,” I said. “It just makes me wonder what life will be like when you leave.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, for starters, I doubt I'll find a roommate who matches your standards,” I joked. “But what will happen to me when you go?”

  “Back to being normal, I expect.” He grinned. “You can forget about hitting an alien with your car, about the, um, near-death experiences.”

  “That's what I'm afraid of.”

  “Isn't that what you want?”

  “It may have been what I wanted before my world grew. Before I got my own taste of the universe. Part of the cosmos has been living in my spare room for the past two months, and returning to such a small, closed normality just … it just doesn't fit anymore.”

  “Well, I could offer you a few solutions,” he said, calmly—nervously.

  “Such as?”

  “Well, we could wipe your memory of us. You won't feel the loss that way. You'll return to normal without feeling as if something is missing.”

  “Wait, you could do that?”

  “If you wanted us to.” He nodded. “We could track down the right tech. Blayde is particularly good at that kind of stuff.”

  “I don't want that, though. It would be living a lie. And I think I would know.”

  “Well, option two would be, well”—he shifted nervously in the chair, leaning forward slowly—“that you would come with us.”

  “What?”

  “Come with us. See a little of the universe. I'm a poor piece of it.”

  “Really?” I sputtered. “You'd let me come with you?”

  “Of course.” He smiled gently, holding back his excitement. “Blayde gets annoying after a few centuries. It'll be nice to have the extra company. You're really great and—well, that is, if you want to.”

  “I want to!”

  His smile broadened.

  Was this really happening?

  I was going to leave the planet—go to space—see the universe?

  I hadn't realized how much I wanted it before that moment, but now, it was as if the veil had been lifted, and I heard my heart scream louder than before.

  The oven beeped, followed by an angry shout. A small, black blur flew at the appliance, shouting a war cry that would chill an advancing army.

  Zander, up in a flash, grabbed the woman before she could reach the oven, insisting it was nothing but a heating machine. Blayde scoffed, complaining about Earthlings installing the same alarms on our ovens as a G1337 bomb alert. She fired a few more vulgarities aimed at my home planet, which I ignored. Instead, I grabbed the pizza from the oven before it got any crispier.

  Before I could get plates, Blayde—wrapped only in her towel and dripping water on my floor—was tucking into the pizza, ignoring the heat and saying nothing about the food. From what I could tell, she liked it.

  “So, plan of attack?” Zander asked, slipping a plate in under his sister.

  “No attack yet,” Blayde said between blissful bites. “Recon only, and I'd like to sleep on it before I assert anything. And no, Zander, you are not making the plan. Your plans suck. They involve over the top fanfare. Not what we need. As a matter of fact, I can probably do this myself. You two can return to your posts as if nothing is happening.”

  “You don't want my help?” Zander asked, surprised.

  “I've gotten used to solo missions, Zan. It's all right. If anything is amiss, you'll be the first to know.”

  They said nothing more all dinner. Once the pizza was finished, I set up the couch bed for the new arrival. Blayde sat on the mattress and stared as if daring us to fall asleep first. I backed out of the room, relieved to get away from her terrifying gaze.

  I was going to space.

  I ran the idea over and over in my mind. I couldn't believe it.

  And then another thought interrupted me—Matt. What would I do about him? Would I be willing to leave the planet without him?

  The fact he hadn’t crossed my mind until now was more worrying to me than my actual answer.

  * * *

  There was a smell in the air … a pleasant smell, surprisingly. The aroma of eggs and toast and bacon. It was nice to wake up to it.

  I trudged to the living room, limbs still stiff from sleep. I hadn't expected to see people in the kitchen, but there they were—two intergalactic siblings cooking breakfast. Blayde the Warrior at the stove and Zander the Fighter setting the table.

  Blayde flipped the pans as if they were feathers. She played with the heat of each of the burners individually, swinging the pans back and forth in an elegant dance.

  It smelled like heaven.

  She hadn't noticed me yet and was chatting loudly and excitedly with her brother, never stopping to breathe. Zander listened intently, an old leather book open in front of him, occasionally sipping his coffee.

  “… And that thing was after me like you wouldn't believe. I ran for days. You have no idea. I thought I knew huge teeth, but trill it all if I'm going to see anything larger. And I was still clinging to the hope you were on that planet somewhere, so I had to keep going, you know?”

  Zander nodded, looking through the pages in front of him as if searching for confirmation. “Uh-huh.”

  “Anyway, when I realized the creature wasn’t going to slow down, I changed tactics. I swung by the closest inn and got myself a room. I thought it would keep running through town. Boy, was I wrong. It must have sniffed me out because the next morning I see it sitting in front of the inn, patient as a pup, so I closed those blinds and waited. It had to give up eventually, right?”

  “Sure,” Zander agreed.

  “Yeah, well, it didn't. So, change of tactics again. I stormed out and gave it a talking to, hoping we spoke the same language. It asked me to hand over the fugitive, as calm as anything, and then this beetle clambered out of my ear and tried to make a run for it. The creature snatched it out of mid-air, and flung it in a tiny cage.”

  “No way!”

  “I kid you not. A few drinks later with the large fellow, and I learned the insect had been using me as a getaway vehicle for weeks. Turns out my pursuer was a federal agent. We bonded, talked a little about scare tactics, and that was the end of that. Only—”

  “Hold on … huge beasts? Huge beast cops? Cop beasts?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Like in the journal?” He flipped the book almost to the beginning, looking shocked.

  “Exactly like in the journal,” she replied, taking a pause from cooking breakfast to give him a telling look. “I found Meegra. Of course, no one remembered us. I don't remember them much either, but I'm certain we’d been there before. The feeling I had about you being there with me, it was old.”

  “Well, we can check that one off the list, then.” He shrugged, trying to hide his disappointment. “How many left to—”

  “Don't worry about the numbers,” Blayde replied. “Now, how much filling do you want on your checheque?”

  “I trust you.”

  She said nothing, reaching her hand into the bowl at her side and tossing a heaped handful into the pan. It sizzled and popped as she shook the pan back and forth.

  “So, no Haaq here?” she asked.

  Zander sighed. “Not on this side of the galaxy. No Troq planets, no trade, no Haaq.”

  “Dammit, this place is even more back-system than I thought,” sputtered Blayde. “Shame. I miss Haaq. Haven't had any for a long while.”

  “Same.”

  “Probably not as long as me.”

  “Sorry.”

  She slid the final product onto a plate. The steaming mountain of curled potatoes and golden eggs sent heavenly breakfast smells into the air. Spinning on her heels, she flicked the plate at the kitchen table. It landed right in front of Zander, his outstretched hand stopping it from rattling.

  “Yup, still got it.” She snickered, her eyes flicking upward and growing twofold as she caught sight of me
. Shock quickly gave way to anger. She snatched the haggard-looking book off the counter and put it in her pocket. Her face flushed a shade of purple so deep it would have made a violet cry in shame.

  “How long have you been standing there?” Blayde asked, hiding her annoyance under a thick coat of surprise.

  “I just woke up,” I lied. “That smells absolutely amazing.”

  “It's checheque,” explained Zander gleefully, his mouth full of the steaming breakfast. “Personal favorite. Earthified. Blayde's a fantastic chef.”

  “When I'm not busy saving this guy's ass,” she muttered, turning back to the stove. “And it's nowhere near its usual quality, seeing as I had to make do with Terran ingredients. I suppose I have to offer you some.”

  “Um … sure,” I replied, taking a seat across from Zander. He winked at me and smiled, a reassuring reminder that his weird sister meant me no harm.

  “Seriously, don't let me get in the way,” I said. “I didn't mean to interrupt your conversation. I'm sure you have a lot of catching up to do.”

  “I've been up since three,” Blayde replied. “We've been talking for a while now. Maybe we should take a break.”

  “Now come on, Blayde,” snapped Zander. “Don't be rude.”

  “I'm not,” she said. “I'm … focused.”

  The room fell silent. Zander rolled his eyes. “So, how do we find out what's going on at the plant?”

  He wiped his fingers on the napkin, staring at his sister's back. She didn't turn around.

  “You're the one who works there,” she muttered. “Why don't you tell me?”

  “I don't have clearance.”

  “Tell me again why you decided to work for an obviously fraudulent employer.” Blayde turned her head ever so slightly to stare at him. “It wasn't so that you could investigate him.”

  “I was investigating!”

  “The awesome health benefits, sure,” she scoffed, “as if you need them. Shut up and tell me the truth, Zander.”

  “How can I tell you the truth if I have to shut up?”

  “Shut up!”

  “Sure,” Zander said. “Anyway, I needed a job so I could take some time to investigate the Killian problem.”

  “And how’s that going?”

  “Lousy. I don't have any leads.”

  “You're useless without me, aren't you?” she said, placing a plate of checheque in front of me while keeping her focus on Zander. I wondered if she had done something to it. Poison? Maybe. Zander nodded as if to give the all clear.

  The first bite was magical. The blend of spices was so different to what I was used to, fully alien without being from anywhere but Earth. It was warm and flavorful, salty and crunchy. I could feel myself packing on the pounds with every mouthful.

  “So, what's the security like on the turbine floor?” Blayde asked, still avoiding eye contact, although she was directing her question toward me.

  “Me?” I asked. “Um, well, I only saw it once. There's a separate elevator down to that level, and you need a key to call the thing up. Mr. Grisham is the only one who holds it.”

  “Of course,” Blayde scoffed.

  “And all the files about that floor are encrypted, you know, to stop them from getting into the wrong hands.”

  “Or the right ones,” Blayde pointed out. “Seriously, neither of you found any of this troubling?”

  “Just a smidge,” replied Zander.

  “The pay is really, really good,” I added.

  Blayde let out an incredibly long, incredibly loud sigh. I kept my eyes down and worked at finishing my plate.

  “Well, it's more than we usually have when we pick up a case.”

  “Case?” My ears perked up. “You make it sound as if this is a frequent activity, storming people's employment and accusing their bosses of being aliens.”

  “That's only part of it,” Blayde explained, reaching into the fridge and pulling out whipped cream. She slid onto the kitchen counter, swinging her legs, throwing her head back and spilling the contents into her mouth.

  “It's a hobby of ours,” he explained. “One of the perks of traveling so much. We've gotten pretty good at it.”

  “And yet there's an alien armada coming to my home planet, and we haven't found their people yet,” I said, a little harsher than I should have. Blayde was a bad influence.

  “Yeah, well, we'll deal with them too,” Zander said. “Jeez, you two need to stop all this finger pointing. You're making me look bad.”

  “You're doing great without us,” Blayde replied, shaking the whipped cream can and helping herself to another serving.

  “Fine, be that way.”

  “Anyway, we need to get into the heart of the plant,” Blayde continued, placing the can next to her knee. “See what's going on down there, down where the turbines are. Or where they should be. We'll need weapons in case it gets hairy. Zander?”

  “Stunner. The one I snagged off Jeetle.” He grinned. “Works fine. I haven't had to use it while I’ve been here.”

  “A stunner?” I asked. All the time we had been living in this apartment, and he had never given any indication that he had that kind of weapon lying around.

  “A stun gun,” he explained.

  “I gathered as much,” I said. “But, wait, you have a stun gun?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I have some EM pallets, won them in a game of cards,” Blayde reached into her pocket to pull out a tiny velvet pouch. “Should knock out any computer system in a room. Got the laser pointer, too.”

  “A laser pointer,” I said.

  She grinned. “My laser pointer,”

  “As in, for PowerPoint?”

  “I do a lot of power pointing with it, sure.” Blayde shrugged. “So, human, got any savage weaponry we can use on this incredibly dangerous mission?”

  Zander's palm slammed the table, making everything, and everyone jump. “We're not bringing Sally into this.”

  “It's just recon,” Blayde said. “Plus, she wants to help. Why stop her?”

  “It's dangerous.”

  “She can handle it, from what I hear. Danger didn't bother you with the Killians, did it?”

  His hands formed into trembling fists. “I'm not going to put her in harm's way. Once was enough.”

  “It's not up to you,” I said. “It's my decision.”

  “No—it’s not,” he replied. “We've had training. If we must worry about your safety, we could get distracted. Everyone could get hurt.”

  “It's just a recon,” Blayde repeated, “and Sally's the only one with unquestioned access to Grisham. I say we take her along. It's easier than the usual method.”

  “I won't like it,” he muttered.

  “You don't have to,” Blayde snarled. “Sally, you in?”

  “Definitely,” I replied. “Let's find out what my murderous alien boss has been hiding.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  How Not to Behave in the Workplace

  The car wasn't getting warm, even with the radiator on full blast.

  Zander and Blayde sat in the backseat together, their shoulders overlapping. Of course, they weren't saying anything, making the ride more awkward than it should have been.

  The three of us were on our way to figure out what made my workplace tick. I guess we were trying to unearth the best-kept secret on Earth—or one of them—armed with nothing but—

  Well, nothing really.

  And not much of a plan to speak of, either. We were three against… whom? My boss? The nicest guy in the world, who apparently had tried to have Blayde killed. Three against one sounded like good enough odds, but if Grisham had something nefarious going on, he probably had backup too. And there was the fact I was putting my life on the line. Oh, and my job too, but that didn't bother me so much. Death kind of ended it all, anyway; unemployment could go on forever.

  I parked in my usual spot and walked into the lobby. The only unusual thing was that I was bringing not one but two aliens to
work. Gotta love that.

  Was Grisham really that bad? Whatever his methods, whatever his end, they were producing clean energy, something the planet sorely needed. What were we expecting to find as the power source, other than some clean alien tech? Why had Zander and Blayde jumped to the immediate conclusion that it was alien, so it had to be evil?

  It was probably the woman’s murder that had them like this.

  But this was all word of mouth. Could I really trust these people? How much did I know about Blayde, anyway? Or Zander, for that matter?

  Well, I trusted Zander with my life. I couldn’t trust Blayde with my oven.

  Today, she wore a smart suit with a sharp bob and glasses. Completely unrecognizable. She had used her makeup to change the angles of her face, making her look twice her age. Somehow, she exuded an air of savvy confidence as she walked, almost as if it were her perfume. Although she didn’t look like an inspector as she had intended, she was still too intimidating for people to do anything more than just glance at her.

  “And Sophie's lifting her phone,” Zander said, the first words he’d uttered since breakfast. “I'll distract her.”

  “Let me,” Blayde offered, slipping her glasses down her nose to get a better look. Sophie froze mid-motion, staring at the three of us. “I'll buy Sally some time. You go and act normal, all right?”

  With that, she waltzed toward the desk, maintaining eye contact with Sophie. She wanted to make sure Grisham would not know about the surprise inspector until, well, until after I had dealt with him.

  I went straight to the coffee machine and began my work. Zander shadowed my every move.

  “You don't have to follow me around, you know,” I said. “I’m fine on my own. Nothing’s changed.”

  “Except that it has,” he replied. “Look, your boss knows Blayde is after him. Well, he knows someone is after him. He's going to be a little more tightly strung. A little more careful.”

  “And I don't know that.” I tried to avoid eye contact. “I'm just the PA. I see nothing. I suspect nothing. Everything is as it should be.”

  “It scares me how fine you are with all this.” Zander leaned back against the doorframe. “Do you do this often?”