She made petite gestures with her hands as she spoke. ‘Here at Downing Street there is a palpable state of fear and confusion. Behind me, the podium is empty. We were, however, advised the returned women are meeting with officials as we speak. One they conclude, the government will issue another statement with further information.’
‘Can you tell us of the women themselves?’ the newscaster asked as the screen split into two views.
‘We have their names. Lumen Young, reported as missing over a year ago, and Sìne Grae. The young woman and her immediate family literally disappeared off the face of the Earth.’
‘Did the women look abused or harmed?’
‘As you can see from the images, far from it.’ The Corespondent flashed her dimples, eyes sparkling. ‘They wear the native garb of the alien species.’
Photographs of two women superimposed the screen. One wore a flowing white dress reminiscent of the Ancient Greeks. Gold banded her upper arms, and her kinky-coiled black hair puffed off her brown face. The other woman was pale and freckled. She wore rugged leather pants with a gun attached to her thigh, and a hooded cloak. Her short auburn hair was crowned with a circlet of silver.
‘Look at the diadem on Sìne Grae. We speculate she has gained a role of importance within the alien society.’ The reporter sounded elated. ‘Minor royalty, perhaps.’
‘Has there been a sighting of the aliens themselves?’
‘Not yet. The women have returned as ambassadors. From chatter we’ve overheard, the aliens are significantly different in physical appearance compared to mankind. The women may wish to allay fears before exposing them to the public.’
‘It begs the question why they’re doing this? If they want to keep their alien abductors from the public eye, why arrive with such fanfare instead of in secret?’
‘These are questions we’re hoping to pose during the second address.’
The split screen focused on the main newscaster.
She stared at the screen, solemn. As I knew her almost better than I knew myself, I could see the wicked twinkle in her eyes. ‘That was Special Correspondent Elizabeth Chan, on location at Ten Downing Street, where it is confirmed humanity is not alone.’
‘You cannot go.’ Babi touched my hand. ‘Please?’
Shaken, I folded his hand in my own. ‘Everything will be fine.’ I lied. It made my head swim to think of the rioting and looting that would follow the announcement. ‘This means I’ll be working late.’
I peered into his dear face.
My grandfather was a month shy of seventy. His full head of snowy hair darkened to black at the bottom, uncut as per his faith. He wore it in a man bun and hidden under an angular turban to express his love of peace. With sharp brown eyes and a crooked smile, somehow not obscured by his mustachios and chest-length beard, he never failed to charm the ladies. He meant the world to me. He took me in after my parents died abroad. Then his wife, my grandmother, passed away after a stroke, and he raised me to adulthood. He had his bad days. Days where his blood pressure was too high and his mood too dour, but he was a good man, a kind man who had taken care of me.
‘Get your coat and shoes. Auntie Lita is waiting.’
‘I don’t want to go anymore. I’m fine on my own.’ He settled into the sofa. ‘If you’re leaving, go.’ He made a forceful push with his hand. ‘You never listen.’
My smartphone chimed and buzzed. I glanced at the screen. ‘I have to take this.’ My heels clicked on the waxed hardwood floors as I left the room, bringing the phone to my ear. ‘Good morning, Sir.’
‘Indira,’ said the crisp contralto at the other end of the line. ‘I need you. Are you able to come in early?’
‘You ever only need ask.’ I entered the airy blue walls of my office, shutting the glass door behind me. ‘I’ll make my way as soon as possible.’ I hesitated. ‘It’s true then.’
Weston made a noncommittal noise. ‘We kept the details from the press, thank God, but yes. It’s true.’
I exhaled, cheeks puffing.
I had known the last two contacts with alien life resulted in abductions. So did many others. The gossip wheel at work was greasy. As long as the information didn’t leave the building, most indulged in the whispers without shame. Myself and countless others had doubted we were in real trouble or would ever face a situation which called for extreme measures in national security, yet here we were.
‘You called in the military.’
‘No choice.’ Her voice turned haggard. ‘Miss Young and Miss Grae are the media’s focus, which is ideal, but soon the truth of why they’ve returned will get out. The fallout will be ugly.’ The moist sound of her licking her lips hit my ear. ‘I need you here. Diana looks exhausted, and to be frank, the reality of this is getting to her. I need someone sharp. Capable.’
‘I understand, Sir. Expect me within the hour.’
‘Excellent.’ She inhaled. ‘Take care.’ The call ended.
I sank into the leather chair behind my desk, legs crossed at the ankle, considering the future.
I need a holiday.
2
Indira
I checked the time on my wristwatch then made a call. ‘Who is your source?’
‘Mind your own business.’ The woman on the other end laughed. It trembled with nerves. ‘Was I good?’
‘Perfect,’ I replied. ‘They’ll gossip about your hemline and how your shirt was tight and your braids too “ethnic”.’
‘Ugh. There’s no avoiding it. Today I don’t give a rat’s ass.’ Cristina squealed. ‘Can you believe it? This might be the juiciest scoop of the century, and I was lead newscaster.’
‘I know. Even Babi watched. Now, I demand you confess. Who is your source?’
‘That would be telling, wouldn’t it?’ Her tone soured. ‘It should be you.’
‘Not going to happen.’
‘Weston talks to you. My producers don’t understand how we can be best friends, yet I have zero insider information. Give it up, girl. You know you want to.’
‘Ah, but will you respect me in the morning?’
‘Indie. Come on. I thought you were woke.’
Smiling, I rolled my eyes. ‘I’m Weston’s primary aide. She confides in me, but it doesn’t mean I can turn around and blab to you. I like my job.’ I glanced at the time again. ‘Can’t chat for long. I’m expected within the hour.’
‘Seriously? It’s six a.m.’
‘And? You’ve already worked your shift.’
‘Yeah, but I work for soulless monsters.’ Slurps and the crinkle of packaging distorted the line. ‘I don’t know how you work for that diva.’
‘Her policy yanked our country out of the worst economic downturn in sixty years. She’s fair to her constituents regardless of–’
‘Blah, blah.’ Muffled chewing sounds. ‘I’m close to your place. I’ll drive you to work. Saves you calling a car service or faffing about with parking.’
‘I’m not sneaking you in.’
Guilty silence.
‘The thought never crossed my mind.’
‘Liar,’ I said.
‘Whatever. I’m pulling up.’
She had a key. ‘Do the needful.’ I disconnected and pulled up my email to shoot off requests to my assistant.
I needed that job-coveting graduate firing on all cylinders when I arrived. There’d be no time for mistakes or lallygagging. We’d need kettles of tongue-blistering tea to make it through the day.
‘Indie,’ Babi cried.
I jerked. The back of my chair hit the wall.
Images of my grandfather gasping for air and clutching his chest sprung to mind.
I ran into the lounge and dropped to my knees, watching his swarthy face pale to a shade of grey. ‘Babi? What’s wrong?’ I pressed the flat of my hand to his chest. ‘Is it your heart?’ As I spoke, my thumb smacked 999 on my smartphone.
He pointed a shaking hand to the television.
Hovering my thumb over the green
call icon, I listened to the woman on the screen.
‘–chose to speak to you directly as it was taking too long to go through the official channels. We don’t have the time for it. The Verak Queen and I haven’t returned for ourselves, or to make first contact, but to warn humanity of a grave threat to Earth. My primary mate, He, Venomous One is from a species called Rä. They are native to a planet called Rök in a galaxy far…far…it’s a long way away, okay.’ The woman leaned into the reptilian alien’s side. Four of its six clawed limbs attached to her. She didn’t flinch. ‘I understand you’ll struggle to wrap your heads around what he looks like. That’s fine. But trust me, there are more important things to worry about.’
Dropping the phone, I shifted from my knees onto my ass, mouth popping open.
The two women from news stood in the middle of Piccadilly Circus. A ring of reporters and flashing cameras surrounded them.
Stood beside them were aliens. Real bloody aliens standing in the middle of the street in broad daylight.
I couldn’t breathe.
Weston would have another coronary.
‘–race called the Azteka are coming to Earth,’ the dark-skinned woman said. ‘It’s likely they are already here on the other side of the planet. As of a few minutes ago, our scanners are being jammed. My second mate tells me this means an attack is imminent.’ She flashed the screen of a futuristic device in her hand. ‘They do not come in peace. They are hostile.’
‘What do they want?’ a reporter shouted amidst cries of the same.
The woman faltered.
Cloak fluttering as she stepped forward, the taller woman crossed her arms. Her voice was strong. ‘They want women. Breeders.’ Pale cheeks flushed with colour. Her lips twisted. ‘That word speaks for itself, doesn’t it? Lumen and I needed to tell you as quickly as possible because time is of the essence. We’ve been here all morning. Political red tape is already blocking what we need to say to women around the world.’ She looked into a camera. It zoomed in on her face. ‘This is going to be bad. Prepare yourselves and start demanding your government cooperate with us. We need to pool our resources. Put up a coordinated, unified defence before it’s too late.’ She dropped her arms. Her fingers entwined with those of the muscular, white-haired male flanking her. He looked at her with what might have been adoration on the face of a human man. He was leonine, his eyes brightly dark. Other. ‘There’s only so much we can do if you don’t help yourselves.’
Cristina burst into the room, her keys dangling from a sparkly chain. Her braids swished around her espresso complexion, eyes alight with glee. ‘Oh my Jesus, are you watching?’ She held her tablet in a white-knuckled fist. ‘I was updating my feeds with shots of my broadcast when everything went nuts. Have you seen the memes of the news conference?’ She dropped her tote and forged into the room amidst a cloud of citrus perfume. ‘This is unbelievable. Did those two really storm out of a summit with the leaders the free world and hijack the internet and television-radio broadcasting?’ She gave a hop on her wedges. ‘This is news history. And I was the first to report on it. Eek! This will make my career. I need to post about this.’ She started tapping on her tablet. ‘Sean and I are finally going to be able to afford to get married and buy a bigger place. There’s this amazing townhouse two streets over that’s listed for one point two million. I know what you’re going to say–’
‘That he’s immature, you don’t love him and can’t afford the house because he’ll expect you to pay for everything,’ I said. ‘He’s the cheapest rich person I know.’
‘Oh, Indie, pahlease. In the words of Ms Turner, “What’s love got to do with it?”’
‘He makes you peg him.’
‘I’m getting into it.’
‘No, you’re not.’
‘No, I’m not.’ She wilted. ‘Argh. The struggle is real. He’s hot, loaded, and the sex is adequate. It’s a solid relationship. It is.’
‘You’re settling.’
‘Am not.’
‘You told me last week he fucked like a mannequin.’
Her chin lifted. ‘He moves like a real boy now.’
I snorted. ‘The week before that you bought a vibrator because you wore out the motor on your old one.’
‘I have a healthy sexual appetite. I feel no shame.’
‘The old one you’d bought the week before. If you carry on this way, you’ll be unable to orgasm without sitting on a tractor engine.’
‘First, you are so dark today. Second, I can afford the house. If I up my hours from fifty a week to sixty, get my promised pay hike, and use my Christmas bonus as a down payment, I can swing it. So suck it.’ She muttered under her breath as she typed. ‘Hashtag. Life Is Awesome. Hashtag. Rate Don’t Hate.’ She swigged from her travel mug then gagged. ‘Ugh. This detox tea tastes like sadness. I miss my matcha latte.’ She pursed her lips. ‘I have lost three pounds, so it is working.’
‘No, it’s that your latte is full of sugar and fat, whereas the tea is leafy water.’
Cristina eyed the mug in her hand. Shrugged. ‘God doesn’t give with both hands.’
Still huddled on the floor, I pushed up my glasses and rubbed my eyes, stressed.
Weston said it was bad, but these women warned us of an intergalactic invading force.
That wasn’t “bad” but catastrophic.
They looked scared, sincere in their concern.
‘You cannot go to work.’ My grandfather sounded triumphant. He looked at Cristina. ‘Namaste, little bird.’
‘Namaste, Grandpa.’ She pressed her hands together. ‘Don’t you worry, Mr Chadhri.’ Having known the man since she ran around my nursery in a saggy nappy, Cristina kissed his cheek. He gave her a pat on the arm with a fond smile. ‘News stations report these stories like it’s the end of the world. Then the politicians get over themselves, work it out on the golf course and everything blows over.’ Her phone rang. ‘Hello? Sean, slow down. Stop yelling. I can’t understand you.’ She pressed her other hand to her ear, bending as if it would help the connection. Her wide nose scrunched. ‘Did you say Australia? I don’t…. What’s happening in America?’ Her face lost its glow. ‘What do you mean it’s already happening? I can’t hear you over the noise. Why are people screaming?’
The alien chaperones watching over the women on the television stiffened, spooked by something unseen. They scooped them up and rushed into the spacecraft in frame behind them. It shot off into the sky, a dark sliver blur leaving behind an echo of sound and a thin vapour trail.
The reporters looked bewildered by their departure.
My mobile trilled.
A scream drifted in through the open window.
We jumped, our heads snapping towards the sound.
‘It’s six in the morning,’ Cristina said, indignant. ‘What the hell is there to scream about? This cul-de-sac is a private residential area.’
My phone stopped.
It rang again.
‘Hello?’
‘I’m sending an escort.’ Weston breathed hard into the phone. Car doors slammed and men yelled in the background. ‘Get out of your house right now and run. We’re tracking your phone. Stay off the main roads and out of sight. A plain clothes will pick you up.’
Another bloodcurdling shriek shattered the silence.
Gaining my feet, a sense of foreboding sucked the air from my lungs. I minced towards the window and looked outside. My terror mounted as a blue fleshed creature punched a cowering man in the head. It snatched up the fainting woman he’d fled with.
Similar horrors happened up and down the street.
Sounds of violence–glass breaking, alarms, and car wheels screeching–started to filter past the triple glazing.
I backed away, shaking.
The phone grew damp with sweat against my ear. ‘They’re already here.’
Weston exhaled. ‘I’m sorry.’ The phone disconnected.
Cristina rushed over, waving her phone. It blared a monotonous dial-tone
that switched to a steady pulsing.
‘Indira?’ She was breathless with panic. ‘Sean got cut off. My mobile won’t connect anymore. Yours is on a different network. Right? The secret one reserved for government officials I’m not supposed to know about.’ She latched onto my arm and shook it. ‘Can I borrow it?’
Another scream echoed through the windows, closer than the ones before it.
Then came another.
And another.
‘Indie?’ Scared now, Cristina walked towards me as I backed away, shaking my head. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Out the back.’ My voice strangled the words. I lunged forward to snap the blinds closed as a giant turned in our direction. ‘Go. Now.’ I ran to Babi and hoisted him up by the elbow. ‘We have to go.’
‘My cane.’
‘Leave it.’
Cristina strutted to the front door. ‘This is ridiculous. I’ll tell whoever it is to take their gangland nonsense elsewhere.’
My glossy front door exploded into splinters.
Cristina shrieked, scuttling back until she tripped.
Blue-fleshed nightmares stormed the doorway. As if it were a portal from another dimension, and not an exit to a quaint London suburb.
‘Come on.’ I grabbed Cristina’s arm and dragged her after me.
Babi grumbled, but moved. He headed towards the back door through the kitchen at a stiff-legged trot.
Cristina skip-ran beside me. ‘Mmph.’ She was yanked backwards, heels skidding.
I wheeled around to grab her wrist in both my hands, but our palms were sweaty.
She slipped away before I could get a grip. ‘Cristina!’
‘Run.’ She fought like a lioness to get free. ‘I’ll be fine.’
Hissing behind my teeth, I took her at her word.
I bolted after Babi.
He flung up the latch on the patio doors and wrestled to slide them open.
A light-footed tread coming up fast warned me of an incoming threat.
I hooked a hand around the doorjamb leading into the dining room, buying Babi more time. I slingshot myself into the room and sprinted through it back into the main hallway.
Bhyr: Science Fiction Romance (Alien Warrior Book 3) Page 2