by Josie Litton
I shrugged like I rode alien shafts every day. “Your directions were very clear.”
His raised brow made it clear that he wasn’t buying my attempt at nonchalance but was willing to go along with it--for the moment.
Gesturing for me to sit, he asked, “Did you sleep well?”
I did my best to ignore the sensation of the floating plank shaping itself around me. Even after bouncing up and down on the “couch” in the guest suite for an embarrassingly long time, I still wasn’t used to furniture that felt almost alive.
“Don’t you already know? I’m guessing you haven’t been sitting here all morning waiting for me to wake up and find your note.”
For just a moment, I thought he looked uncomfortable but that vanished when I added, “I’m assuming the bed let you know when I--”
A glass of orange juice, or at least what looked like it, floated toward me. A plate of fruits, only some of which I recognized, and what looked like an assortment of pastries followed.
The casual, everyday use of technology that defied everything we thought we knew about science was stunning. It drove home the true extent of the Krinars’ power in a way that not even the remote images of their vessel in orbit around Earth could do. The presence of that vessel was still almost too much for human minds to grasp. But what I was seeing and experiencing…the sheer ordinariness of it left no doubt that these were beings who were vastly beyond us.
I wondered how many other people--including world leaders--still hadn’t come to terms with the enormity of what we were confronting.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Jarek said as the food settled smoothly onto the table in front of us.
I wasn’t, at least not any more. But if I’d learned one thing during my time working for the federal government, it was to never show weakness.
Determined not to let him see how unsettled I was, I helped myself to the least identifiable piece of fruit I could see and asked, “Did Blabber Bed tell you anything else?”
He chuckled. “Blabber Bed, really? I like that.”
At least one Krinar had a sense of humor. That was something. Unless he was a freak Krinar and all the rest of them were dead serious.
“It might have reported that you were a bit restless,” he added.
“I wonder what could possibly account for that.”
He blushed! Sort of. His gold-tinged skin darkened over his high cheekbones. In yet another demonstration of the Universe’s unfairness that just made him look even more gorgeous.
Distracted, I took a bite of the strange fruit--if that’s what it was--before I realized what I was doing. The explosion of flavor in my mouth--sweetness and tang with a hint of saltiness--evoked a breezy, sun-drenched beach scented with the perfume of wild roses. The sensation vanished like quicksilver but the pleasure of it lingered on my tongue and in the flush of warmth coursing all through my body.
“Holy…! What is this?”
Belatedly, I noticed how closely Jarek was watching me. My reaction seemed to fascinate him.
“You like it?”
“It’s delicious. What is it called?”
“It’s the fruit of the mylvasa tree. The name translates roughly to ‘lover’s taste’. Traditionally, it’s only harvested when the three moons of Krina are in the proper alignment.”
I savored another bite before I asked, “You have three moons?”
Jarek nodded. “One about the size of yours and two that are much smaller.”
“That must be incredible to see. Do you miss Krina?”
“Sometimes, but helping to guide the first contact between my people and yours may be the most important thing I’ll do in my life. For all of us, it’s a great honor to be here.”
“I didn’t realize that you thought of it that way.”
“I do and I’m far from alone. Ambassador Arus, for example, rightly expects all of us to uphold the highest standards as representatives of Krina.”
He paused for a moment, looking at me, before he said, “I believe that I owe you an apology.”
For… when the penny dropped, I felt myself flush. With anger, not embarrassment. I was not some helpless maiden he’d taken advantage of. I wasn’t a maiden at all and even if I had been, I was far from helpless. Not even when it came to an incredibly hot alien who could curl my toes just by looking at me.
Straightening them deliberately, I said, “No, you don’t, Jarek. I was every bit as responsible for that kiss as you were. Let’s just say that we both had a momentary…lapse of judgement and leave it at that.”
That eyebrow again. It quirked so eloquently. I wondered if the Krinar might not use body language to communicate even more than we did. Or maybe they were telepathic. No one actually knew.
“Momentary?” he asked. There was an edge to his voice…steel, titanium, whatever…that suggested he wasn’t going to let me get away with any bull.
Drawing on every ounce of resolution that I possessed, I said, “It has to be. We may not be on opposite sides exactly, at least I hope it doesn’t come to that. But we’re definitely on different ones.”
When he didn’t respond at once, I fought the urge to squirm in my seat. Any such effort would have been pointless; the floating chair would adjust to every movement I made. Instead, I forced myself to hold his gaze, refusing to look away.
Finally, he said, “We can discuss that at another time.”
What? I’d just told him that there couldn’t be anything between us and his response was to table that for further consideration? Clearly, he didn’t discourage easily.
I knew what I should say--that there would be no further discussion because there was no reason for us to meet again. But my throat tightened painfully at the mere thought of that.
I was at war with myself--clear-headed, professional Charlotte on one side and…some other Charlotte I didn’t know on the other. A far more sexual and daring part of myself that I’d never encountered before. I had no idea how to deal with her.
Yet more bewilderment struck me when Jarek said, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get your views on the current situation.”
My views? When was the last time anyone had cared about those? For that matter, did I even have any? I’d been so busy working, surviving, running from the pain deep inside me. The best I could muster were primal instincts--be strong, have courage, don’t give up, hold onto hope.
Quietly, as though he was aware of the turmoil I was experiencing, Jarek said, “You’re obviously very committed to serving your country since you risked your life to do so yesterday. And you’re honest. That makes your perspective valuable.”
I was an ordinary person who happened to work for the State Department but who had absolutely no clout whatsoever. I didn’t lunch with lobbyists, leak selectively to the media or attend the endless round of cocktail parties and dinners. I wasn’t even jockeying for my next job. The truth was that I didn’t know if I wanted to stay in Washington. My parents had owned a house in New Hampshire. There were times when I thought of returning there.
But everything had changed with the arrival of the Krinar. No one could run away from that. And looking at Jarek, I had to admit that I didn’t want to.
Carefully, because he continued to set off alarm bells in my head, I asked, “What do you want to know?”
“How do we convince your people that we’re not a danger to them?”
There it was in a nutshell, the core problem set off by the Arrival and currently threatening to tear my world apart. Put so succinctly, it sounded almost simple. But I knew beyond any doubt that given all the complexities of human behavior, it was anything but.
“You’re asking how to convince the human race that the super powerful aliens who have suddenly appeared from another galaxy and who claim to have created us aren’t in any way a threat to our survival?”
“We’re not,” he insisted. “I realize that our arrival here came as a great shock. But the Coexistence Treaty should make it clear that our i
ntentions are peaceful. We retain the right to self-defense, of course, but beyond that our actions have been entirely non-violent and will remain so.”
“Politicians and the media keep assuring us of that,” I acknowledged. “So naturally people assume that it isn’t true.”
He frowned, suddenly looking as bewildered as I felt.
“Naturally? You’re saying that humans have no faith in their leaders?”
The Krinar had been studying us for untold gazillion years and they hadn’t noticed that trust among humans was in short supply? I had to wonder what other blind spots they had where we were concerned.
“Unfortunately, that’s correct to a large extent,” I said. “But it’s not to say that we don’t trust anyone. Almost every community has people who are respected because they deserve to be. Teachers, clergy, businessmen and women, first responders, local leaders who are personally known and trusted by their neighbors.”
“Shouldn’t all leaders be known and trusted? Otherwise, how can they lead?”
“In an ideal world, they would be. But here… Let’s just say that it’s a little more complicated than that.”
Which raised the question of just how different it could be on Krina. Did they have a perfect, Utopian society where self-interest was always selflessly set aside for the greater good? If that were true, how could they stand to even be in the same room with the grubby, pushy humans not averse to crawling over each other to gain any advantage?
“How do you choose your leaders on Krina?” I asked warily.
As though stating the obvious, he said, “We select among those who are known and trusted.” After a moment, he relented just a little and added, “Not that our system is flawless. But anyone who aspires to leadership has to have a very long and transparent record of accomplishment in order to even be considered.”
“No doubt it should be the same here but it’s not always that easy. If you’re serious about wanting to end the Panic, you should think about how to reach out to the people who are trusted, not just in the United States but around the world. They exist in every country but you have to find them.”
“Go around the public figures and speak to people directly?”
I took another bite of something alien but incredibly good and said, “Speak with them, not just to them. If you’re going to communicate, you have to be willing to listen as well as talk.”
I broke off, considering how much he had drawn out of me in just a few minutes.
Ruefully, I added, “But you seem good at that.”
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. As it did, I couldn’t help noticing that his eyes lightened, as though his mood was doing the same.
“I’m glad you think so,” he said softly.
We both fell silent. I tried not to stare at him but the memory of how it felt to be in his arms, his mouth on mine, my body yearning for his…
That ‘momentary lapse’ was threatening to become a whole lot more.
Belatedly, I realized that we were being observed from the nearby tables. The glances directed at us were discreet but it was still clear that the Krinar in our vicinity were curious about the company their Counselor was keeping.
My appetite deserted me. However much I might want to forget that we stood on opposite sides of a literally interstellar divide, I couldn’t afford to do so. Far too much was at stake. I had to set my personal feelings aside and do whatever I could to help with a crisis that was rapidly spinning beyond all control.
Quietly, no longer looking at Jarek, I said, “I have to get to the office.”
Chapter Six
Charlotte
Stepping off the elevator on the fourth floor of the sprawling building on C Street that housed the State Department, I headed directly for the Public Affairs offices where I worked.
Fewer people were around than usual--no surprise there. The ones I did see were all frantically busy fielding phone calls or gathered in small groups talking anxiously.
Even so, before I got more than a few steps, I became aware of conversations stopping, heads swiveling, and eyes following me every step of the way.
I hadn’t made it in for the all-hands and I got that many of my colleagues had probably been there all night. But I hadn’t grown a second head, had I?
What was going on?
“Charlotte!” Derek all but exploded out of his cube, skittering to a halt in front of me. Abruptly noticing the attention coming my way, he dropped his voice to a tense whisper. “Are you all right? I feel so guilty. I’m the one who called you in. What the hell happened?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get here. I ran into some trouble--”
“Trouble? Is that what you call almost getting trampled to death in a riot in front of the K embassy?”
Startled, I asked, “How do you know about that?”
Jarek had said that Secretary of State Loomis had been informed of my whereabouts but surely that kind of highest level official contact hadn’t already trickled down to my fellow cube dwellers?
“How could I not?” he countered. “The video of what happened to you is getting so many views it’s almost crashed YouTube. Coming on top of that incident in Saudi Arabia--”
I didn’t want to think about what had happened there. But I didn’t want to believe what Derek was saying either. If there was one thing I never wanted to do in my life, it was go viral.
“There’s a video--?”
“Believe it! That K, holy crap, he came out of nowhere, leaped right over the wall in a single bound, picked you up as if you were nothing and the look on his face... I gotta tell you, a lot of us thought we were never going to see you again.”
Struggling not to think of Jarek sweeping me into his arms and carrying me away from danger, I said, “I don’t remember any of that.”
“Trust me. You’re all over Twitter. Hashtag #hotK and #freeCharlotte are both trending. Half the world thinks he’s a super stud, the other half is convinced the Ks are here to steal our women, and the rest are down with both.”
Either math wasn’t Derek’s strong suit or he was just really strung out. Not that it mattered.
If I’d had any doubt that the world was entirely nuts, I didn’t anymore. Maybe the K shouldn’t have made getting rid of nukes their top priority. They might have been smarter to take out social media instead.
“This is fascinating but there must be some work to do.”
He slapped his forehead. “Damn, how could I forget? The Secretary wants to see you pronto.”
“What secretary?”
We didn’t have the kind that sat behind desks and answered phones; those were all PAs. My own boss was an acting assistant secretary, which made the status of the Public Affairs department pretty clear. People generally just called her Kathy.
“Loomis,” Derek said. “He wants to see you. You should already be up on the seventh floor.”
My stomach dropped. The seventh floor was the domain of the highest of the high, the men and a few women seen emerging from airplanes emblazoned with the Stars and Stripes, bustling in and out of the White House, and showing up on the Sunday morning talk shows to tell us all what to believe about the state of the world.
“Harry Loomis, the Secretary of State wants to see me personally?” He couldn’t just palm me off on one of his army of brown nosing flunkies the way he usually did with everything else?
“Pronto. His office called a few minutes ago.”
The day was just getting better and better. I was a career department employee, not a political appointee. Which meant that at least theoretically, I wasn’t supposed to be political at all. But I really didn’t like Loomis. Until now, the best part of being a lowly cog in a vast diplomatic machine was that he didn’t know I existed.
Unfortunately, that had changed. Resisting the urge to suddenly decide that I needed a sick day, I said, “Well, then, I should--”
“Go up there. Yeah, you should.” On a kinder note, Derek added, “He probably ju
st wants to make sure you’re okay.”
Sure he did. And after he was finished doing that, I could go watch the pigs as they flew by. Happy little porkers, turning somersaults in the air, wearing those cute little porkpie hats…
Mentally admonishing myself to get a grip, I trudged my way to the elevators. My stomach was clenched in a knot and I could feel the cold sweat between my shoulder blades. As much as I told myself that I hadn’t done anything wrong, I was dreading whatever was coming.
As it turned out, it was even worse than I expected.
Loomis was sitting at a desk the size of a small handball court. He had a spectacular view out toward the Lincoln Memorial and the Potomac. Silver-haired, tanned and trim, he looked the epitome of the successful businessman or politician. No one would have guessed that he was in the midst of a global crisis triggered by an alien invasion… Arrival, not invasion. I really needed to get the diplo-speak right.
“Miss Hughes,” he said, rising and crossing the room to greet me. “What a pleasure. How are you?”
Girding myself, I said, “I’m fine, sir, thank you.”
“Good, good. Excellent really. We’ve been very concerned, haven’t we, guys?”
Only then did I notice that we weren’t alone. Three other people were in the room, two men and a woman. I guessed the ‘guy’ thing was generic. None of them were smiling.
“Come and sit down,” Loomis directed, leading me over to a couch and chairs arranged near the windows.
When we were settled, with Loomis directly across from me, he said, “You’ve had quite an adventure, haven’t you?”
“If you say so, sir. Of course, I’m grateful for the care I received.”
“You spent the night at the Krinar embassy,” the woman chimed in, cutting to the chase. She was in her thirties, buffed and polished , camera ready, frosty enough that ice cream wouldn’t have melted in her panties. Her no-prisoners smile quashed any hope I had of being wrong about the nature of this meeting.
“By our calculation,” she added, “you were there just under sixteen hours. Is that correct?”
“I suppose…it was almost curfew when I left my apartment to come here so--”