Alawahea

by Sara L Daigle

  Tamara focused on the screen. The news report had switched to the university and was showing scenes of university life voiced over by the ambassador’s musical lilt and the reporter’s calm questions. “That is my dorm! Wait a minute! Are they housing the students there?”

  Sadie cleared her throat loudly and snapped the blanket on her knees with even more force. “I would have her moved immediately, Jeanine. She will be corrupted by those filthy animals.”

  Tamara hastened to answer, although she knew it was probably hopeless. Her grandmother had always had something against Azellians. It was apparent that she had something against Tamara as well, which made the fact that the old woman was living with them temporarily very unpleasant. “I have no choice in where they put me, Grandma. I don’t imagine I’ll be living all that close to them. Look, they’re focusing on another dorm.”

  “You have nothing to do with them, child. Do you hear me? In fact, I would suggest you move her to another school, Peter.” She took her angry gaze off Tamara and turned to Tamara’s father. “Immediately.”

  “It will be all right, Mother.”

  “It will not be all right, Peter James! Of all of us, you should know that best.” Peter’s mother stared at him with cold blue eyes.

  “You are overreacting, Mother.”

  “Am I, considering the way you behaved when you were younger?” Sadie hissed between her teeth. “Tell me I am overreacting, after the way both you and your bastard of a father behaved back then.” Tamara blinked. She knew something large existed between her father and his mother, something that had soured their relationship over the years, but they had never spoken about it openly. Whatever had happened in the past was an ongoing point of contention for her grandmother. She knew better than to ask.

  Tamara’s mother stood up, breaking through the tension. “That’s enough, Sadie, Peter. Tammy is going back to the university in a couple of weeks and I’m sure she doesn’t want you squabbling the entire time she’s home.”

  Her father got to his feet. Her grandmother glared up at him. “Mark my words. Letting those filthy creatures into our institutions will pave the way for immorality and the destruction of everything we know.”

  Tamara sensed that her father’s temper was about to ignite. She watched as he tensed his jaw. She could feel his emotion building as he clenched his hands—his muscles visibly quivering. Her mother laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he restrained himself with visible effort. He turned on his heel and strode out of the room, taking a large portion of the tension with him as Sadie pointedly ignored Tamara and Jeanine.

  Tamara got up and followed her father. He sat with his elbows poised on the kitchen table, his face buried in his hands. “Are you all right, Dad?”

  Peter Carrington dropped his hands and looked up at his daughter. He gave her a small smile. “I’m fine, Tammy.”

  Feeling awkward but wanting to do something to help her father, Tamara ventured, “Why is she so hateful?”

  She watched as her father shrank in on himself. “She was hurt badly years ago and she’s never gotten over it.” He lowered his hands. “Don’t worry, Tammy. She’s not going to be staying with us all that long.”

  Not sure she understood the explanation, Tamara shook her head. “I don’t understand why, but she’s never liked me much, Dad … any more than she seems to like you.”

  Peter’s expression darkened. “She doesn’t dislike us, sweetheart.” He rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. He seemed to consider something before speaking and finally repeated, “She’s just hurting.”

  Tamara closed her eyes. “For all these years?” She muttered the words under her breath, almost whispering them to herself. She opened her eyes and spoke more loudly, “I just want to help, Dad. I’m twenty years old. I think I can handle a few family skeletons.”

  Peter looked up at her. He was silent for a moment and then opened his mouth to speak. A shiver skittered up Tamara’s back as she leaned forward. He seemed tired but almost eager at the same time. Tamara tensed. Was he finally going to tell her about the deep dark secret?

  “What’s happening? Dad, I heard shouting—” Tamara’s younger sister Andreya skidded around the corner. She saw Tamara standing there and gave her a glare. Tamara ignored her younger sister as best she could but knew the opportunity had been lost. Peter seemed to harden, his shoulders going back and his head coming up. “What did Tammy do now?”

  “Nothing. It’s not important, Andreya. Go to your rooms, both of you. I’m going out for a walk.” Peter stood up, shoving his chair back. Tamara wanted to strangle her sister. Every time she and her father almost seemed to connect, Andreya waltzed in and destroyed the fragile communion. She seemed to have a sixth sense about it, careening into the conversation every time Peter seemed ready to tell Tamara about the past. For some reason, he would clam up as soon as Andreya came in and then dismiss them both.

  She glared back at her sister. “Way to go, Andreya. Just chase him out of the house.”

  “Did not. What happened?”

  Tamara shrugged, suddenly irritated. “Ask Mom, nosy. I’m going to bed.” She walked down the hallway to her room and firmly shut the door behind her.

  That night, she dreamed. In the dream, she ran after her father. “Dad, why does Grandma hate us?”

  “You and I are different, Tamara.” Her father’s voice had a lilting accent he didn’t have in life, morphing into the ambassador’s handsome features as he spoke. Behind the ambassador an empty plain stretched in all directions, swept only by winds and sand. “Come home.” The wind howled in the distance—an eerie, ululating call that made her long to run through the fine sand as it oozed between her toes. Her whole being vibrated, feeling the lure of the song. She stepped toward the ambassador. He took her hands in his, his hands large and warm in her fingers. He pulled her close and bent his head to kiss her, his hands suddenly exploring her body. New feelings built, pushing away the longing, a different kind of aching beginning …

  She woke abruptly, breathing hard. Struggling to get free of the tatters of the dream, she sat up. Her heart raced; her nightgown clung to her shoulders and back. Outside, the wind howled as a weather front moved in, rattling the windows. She listened to the wind for a moment, trying to hear that note, the note that had permeated her dream, that siren’s call. What had it been—that wild song that hadn’t been external at all? She lay back down on the bed and listened to the wind shake the windows, sleep banished by the dream and the formless longing that followed.

  Several days later at the Azellian embassy, Merran Corina leaned back against his chair and stretched, looking out his window at the early morning vista. Skyscrapers loomed against the majesty of the Continental Divide. The blue sky met the dark silhouette of the mountains, throwing them into stark relief. He rubbed his eyes and reached out with his mind. Janille?

  The door opened almost immediately. “Yes, Ambassador?” An older woman with graying hair stepped into the office. Always very proper, his assistant, Janille, maintained a strict distance between them. Although he had been a little uncomfortable with the formality at first, Merran had since gotten used to their working relationship. It gave him something of a relief to know that she would not pry into anything she had no business knowing. Considering that the human media left him very little in the way of privacy, Merran appreciated her discretion.

  “What’s on the docket for today?”

  Janille placed an electronic pad on his desk. “The Council reports are ready for broadcast this evening when you have your regular contact with them. You have to pick up the Azellian students at noon at the spaceport and escort them to the campus to help them get settled in. Then you have a meeting with the Earth Liaison Office this afternoon. Following that, you have a welcome dinner planned for the students, assuming they have the energy after the flight and settling into their rooms.”

  Merran sighed. “It begins. Why did I agree to this anyway?” Janille allowed herself a
small smile, but she said nothing. He continued, “Did you happen to catch the newscast last week?” He straightened in his chair and looked down at his desk. “The one where they interviewed me?”

  “I did, sir.”

  “Any reaction?” Merran stretched his neck one way, then the other.

  “I think it went well, but it’s the humans that matter and it’s hard to say what they think about it. The question she raised about our mental abilities … you glossed over that one very smoothly, sir.”

  Merran grinned. “I tried. Distraction seemed to be safest, as most of the humans I meet are either extremely terrified or quite fascinated by the idea of my possible … abilities … that they are hardly able to function around me.”

  Janille’s mouth twitched. “I can imagine what form of distraction you chose.”

  His grin widened. “Would I be so unscrupulous as to capitalize on my looks to distract a truth seeker?”

  Janille’s expression was eloquent. “I have only one question, sir. Do I need to send flowers?”

  Merran laughed. “Hmm, good question. It might be useful to call on her again, eventually. She’s … ah … quite an interesting woman.”

  Janille’s eyebrow shot up. “Did you wish to arrange another encounter with her?”

  Merran shook his head. “Not really. Just keep her in the possible contact group.” He glanced up at the clock on the wall. “The aarya damn it! Is it already so late?”

  Janille smiled and held out a tablet computer. “The car is waiting out front, Ambassador. Here are the necessary documents for your friends. The flight is right on time.”

  “Thank you, Janille.” Merran jumped to his feet as the tablet, guided by his telekinetic abilities, flew from her hand into his. He tucked it into the inner pocket of his blazer and headed out the door, hoping he had time to make it to the spaceport before his fellow Azellians arrived.

  Completely unaware of Merran’s wild dash across Denver, Tamara leaned against the kitchen wall, watching her mother as she finished washing the counters. “I—I don’t understand, Mom.”

  Jeanine looked at Tamara over one shoulder, her expression carefully neutral. “I need to go in for tests, Tammy dear.”

  “For the pain in your chest? I thought the treatment was working.”

  “The pain really hasn’t gone away, honey. Your father and I thought we should get it checked out formally, with a specialist.” Jeanine’s mouth curved in a slight smile. “It’s probably nothing, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

  Tamara made a face. “God, Mom, I hope so.” She stepped forward to hug her mother. “I have to get to work, but I’ll see you later tonight. Call me at work if you need to.”

  Jeanine returned Tamara’s hug with a tight embrace of her own. Her mother didn’t say anything, but her eyes were wet with sudden tears that Tamara noticed as she stepped away.

  Tamara left the kitchen, trying to control her own desire to cry. What would she do if something happened to her mother? She took a deep breath and went to her room to grab her jacket.

  Andreya stood by the door to her room, arms crossed under her breasts. “Going to work?”

  Tamara spared her fifteen-year-old sister a glance. “Yes.” She would have added a sarcastic rejoinder, but Andreya looked like she was spoiling for a fight and Tamara had no desire to spar with her at that moment.

  “You think you’re so superior, don’t you?”

  Tamara brushed by her sister and grabbed her jacket, closing the door firmly behind her. “I don’t have time for this, Andreya.”

  Unsatisfied by Tamara’s refusal to give her the fight she wanted, Andreya followed her back down the hallway. “You’re not one of us, you know.” Unlike blond Andreya, Peter, and Jeanine, Tamara had dark brown hair, which she kept clipped short for comfort and ease. Also, unlike the rest of their family, Tamara had grey-blue eyes. She looked something like her father, but absolutely nothing like Jeanine. The accusation that she didn’t belong had been a favorite taunt of Andreya’s since they were kids.

  Tamara sighed. “I know you’re jealous, Andreya, but you’ll get your chance to go to college and get a job.”

  Andreya glared at her. “I am not jealous.”

  Tamara just shook her head and walked away. “I’m gonna be late if I don’t get out of here.” She could feel Andreya’s angry stare on the back of her neck and tried to ignore it. It wasn’t until she had driven her car halfway to the university that she felt in command enough to let the whole conversation go. Occasional glimpses of the mountains beyond the looming skyscrapers of the downtown area helped, although she didn’t have time to do much more than glance. The rest of the tangled downtown traffic demanded all her attention.

  With the heavy traffic, the drive to the university took longer than she’d expected, and she had to force herself to be patient. On campus, Tamara maneuvered the car into a parking space between two other vehicles and got out, locking the doors behind her.

  Since classes had not yet started, the walk to work was relatively peaceful, with few groups wandering the sweeping campus area. The old Southern Colonial style columns of the Administration building loomed over her head as she walked up the wide cement steps and entered, taking the elevator just inside the door to the third floor. Encountering no one in the building—most of the students would not be arriving for a couple more weeks—Tamara crossed the study lounge to the Registrar’s Office.

  She entered the office and saw her boss sitting at one of the computer terminals. “Hello, Kim. Have we got lots of new student cards to enter?”

  Kim smiled at her. “Well good afternoon to you, Tamara. We sure do. Here’s the stack to start on.” She pushed a tall, wobbly stack of old-fashioned paper cards at Tamara.

  “Yikes.” Tamara snagged the box as she made her way to the other computer. “Are they actually returning their cards on time?”

  “Those are just the new students. We’ve got a huge class coming in this year.”

  “Any chance the school’s going to upgrade the computer system to voice recognition software?” Tamara settled into the chair and pulled the box closer.

  Kim snorted and chuckled. “Are you kidding me? Why would they when they can get along with these ancient things? They haven’t even let us use electronic clipboards for the students to complete. Too expensive, they say. Much better to have them write down their information on paper and pay us to enter it. But then, we wouldn’t have a job if they actually updated their computer system, so I’m not really complaining.”

  Neither was Tamara, but she did have to admit that entering student data cards wasn’t normally the most interesting task in the world. She didn’t make any further comment and focused instead on entering the stack of cards in front of her, using the antiquated keyboard system to enter each card into the Registrar Office’s software.

  After an hour or so, Kim pushed her chair back. “I’m going to get a cup of coffee downstairs, Tam. Can you hold down the fort?”

  It took Tamara a moment to realize Kim was talking to her. “Oh, sure.” She gave a distracted wave. Not five minutes later, the door opened again. Expecting Kim, Tamara didn’t look up right away.

  “Excuse me?” an accented male voice said, sounding oddly familiar.

  Tamara jumped and looked up. Standing in front of her was the young man she had seen in the news report less than a week ago, his dark brown eyes regarding her intently. Wearing a suit very much like the one he had worn during the interview, he was even better looking in person. She flushed, feeling the heat crawl up her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I thought you were my coworker coming back. How can I help you?”

  “I am Ambassador Merran Corina of the Azellian embassy,” he said, his words flowing with exquisite enunciation. She had to force herself to concentrate on his words rather than his accent; otherwise, she might have gotten lost in his voice. “I need to register these four students so they can get settled in their rooms today, if you could help me.”


  Tamara collected her scattered thoughts, pulling herself together and belatedly noticing there were four young people with him. “Oh, you must be the exchange students.” She gave them all a warm smile, handing them each two cards. “We need you to complete a card like this and one like this. I think you’ve been pre-approved for your classes, but you need to let us know what they are.” She motioned to the table. “There are pencils over there. Please give me your cards when you’re done.”

  As they turned to comply, the ambassador walking away with them, Tamara studied the newcomers surreptitiously. The three young men and one young woman all had an air of comfortable confidence quite at odds with their new status here. The young man closest to her was a redhead. His features, even in profile, were delicate and chiseled—his nose a fine, straight blade on his face as he leaned over the table in the far corner. He rested an olive-skinned, tanned arm on the table, the muscles in his forearm etched in sharp relief by the pressure he exerted on his arm. Generous lips pursed as he read the card in front of him. His broad shoulders and chest, well-defined under a white t-shirt with some type of writing on it that she could not see, tapered down to a narrow waist and slender legs encased in light blue jeans.

  The second young man leaned over the table facing her. Sandy-blond hair fell over a high forehead into amber brown eyes as he read—a slight frown between them. His features were much heavier than his companion’s, with a slightly too-long nose and a jaw that was almost too strong. A good four or five inches shorter than the redhead, his dark blue t-shirt stretched across a well-muscled chest that, despite being stocky, had no spare fat on it at all. As he wrote on the card with his left hand, she observed that he was less tanned than the redhead. He nevertheless bore the same basic olive complexion. The dark-haired young man next to him nudged him and said something she couldn’t hear. The one who spoke suddenly grinned—his wide, generous mouth flashing straight white teeth. Black hair fell into his blue eyes, and he tossed his head, catching Tamara’s expression as she looked at them. He winked and returned his attention to the table in front of him.