by Kody Boye
“Do not move,” Grayson’s familiar voice said. “You were injured during our escape.”
“Injured?” I asked. “What’re you—”
The alien tapped a device next to the chrome table. A holographic projection of my body appeared, displaying a completely orange skeletal structure, save for three ribs that were emblazoned in red.
“You broke three of what your kind considers to be false ribs,” Grayson said as it extended a finger to point at the damage done to my left side. “You will heal, but it will be slow and painful.”
“Can’t you do anything for me?” I asked, once more attempting to sit up but once again unable to do so.
“We do not have the proper medical facilities to perform an operation,” the creature said. “That would require resources we currently do not have.”
I grimaced as pain rolled through my side and threatened to send me over the edge. I’d never broken anything before, let alone a rib, and while I knew humans could do nothing for me, the Grays might have technology that could heal me instantaneously.
“What about the mothership?” I asked.
Grayson blinked. “The mothership?” it asked.
“Can you not take me there? To be healed? Your ship is damaged anyway. Won’t you need to replace it?”
“The ship is currently undergoing self-diagnostics and repairs,” the alien said.
So that was why we had never been able to take down a Harvester ship. They could repair Themselves.
“Incredible,” I mumbled.
“You will need your rest, Ana Mia Sofia Berrios, if you are to continue acting as our ambassador to the human peoples. I take it this little… incident… did not frighten you away from your cause?”
Truth be told, I couldn’t have been more terrified, but I couldn’t tell Grayson that. If I went back on my offer now—if, by circumstance, I returned to Burgundy Hospital—Asha was likely to be thrown back into an isolation cell and left to rot.
With that knowledge in mind, I shook my head, cleared my throat even though it pained me to do so, and said, “No. I’ll continue to be your ambassador.”
“Good.” The alien stepped forward and withdrew from atop a separate chrome table an instrument that resembled a needle. “I will now administer a sedative that will help you sleep. Once you are under, you will be transported to your room.”
“How,” I started.
I saw the Coyote appear from the darkness, yellow-eyed and fang-toothed.
I shivered, but could do nothing as Grayson slid the needle into my arm and injected me with the concoction that would put me to sleep.
The lights dimmed.
The room swam.
I drifted off to the sight of the Coyote stepping toward me.
Chapter 8
Though the Grays were unable to provide an instantaneous fix through the wonders of advanced surgery, the medications They provided allowed me to heal at a heightened rate. As such, bones that would have taken weeks to heal were mended in days, and soon, I was back on my feet and preparing for what would undoubtedly be the next in the barrage of international meetings.
“We have located the president of the United States,” Grayson told me one day shortly after I’d risen from bed and eaten my morning meal.
“You have?” I asked.
The alien nodded, its eyes subtly shifting in focus as they centered upon my person. “We have determined that president Suzanne Gale is located in West Virginia, in a complex that is unable to be seen with the naked eye.”
“So it’s underground?” I asked, to which the alien responded with a nod. “How did you find her so quickly?”
“It only takes so much effort when computers and robotics are doing the work for you,” Grayson said, then accepted the tray when I passed it forward. “Tell me—are you prepared to meet with the president of the United States?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I said.
And it was true. I didn’t know what to expect when it came to the woman who was once the most powerful person in the world. She’d been ruthless, intimidating and brutal even before the Gray invasion had begun. Who knew what the end of the world had done to her conscience.
“You are nervous,” Grayson said, speaking a truth I hadn’t yet voiced. “Why is that?”
“The president is… well… I don’t want to say menacing, but, well…”
“She is a force to be reckoned with,” the alien finished.
“Exactly.”
The Gray shifted its head to the panoramic window that it had revealed to me upon its last visit and watched as the ocean below us churned beneath the aspect of a coming storm. It watched as the waves swelled, as the clouds darkened, as lightning struck the sky and listened as thunder rolled across the horizon. When it started to rain, it blinked, then, and nodded, as if approving of one of the most natural acts of nature that could possibly occur, then turned and began to make its way out of the room.
“Grayson,” I said.
“Yes?” the creature asked.
“How soon will it be until I speak with the president?”
“Tomorrow, if you would be able and are so inclined.”
That didn’t give me much, if any time to prepare.
With that in mind, I nodded and watched the creature go, then stood and made my way to the window, where I looked out at the tumultuous sea and tried, with all my heart, to summon the courage I would need to speak with one of the most powerful women in the world.
As a child I’d admired and envied her—the first female president.
As a young woman, however, in the middle of the end of the world, I couldn’t help but wonder how she would view me, an ambassador to a people who had forcefully taken over the entire planet.
Would she see me as an enemy, or would she lower her guard and view me as a potential ally?
I wouldn’t know until tomorrow.
The location where the president was said to be hidden was shrouded in secrecy and hidden within a legion of trees. Nondescript in that it resembled any old wood but beautiful in that Fall was causing the leaves on the trees to turn red and gold, West Virginia resembled a fantastical paradise straight out of the world of Alice in Wonderland and brought with it the promise for an end to our ongoing nightmare.
As we circled over the area, attempting to break into communications networks that were likely designed to keep even the most advanced out, I looked out the front window with my arms crossed beneath my breasts and tried to determine whether or not we would actually be able to make contact today. It seemed likely, given the leaders we had been able to speak with previously, but this was the undoubtedly the best shot we had.
This meeting could bring to an end a near seven-year struggle.
But would it actually work?
I didn’t know. I couldn’t know until we made contact with president Suzanne Gale. And so far, it didn’t seem as though we were having much luck.
“Have you found their communications network?” I asked as Grayson appeared beside me.
“Their communications devices are medieval,” Grayson replied, “and are proving difficult for our engineers to break through.”
“Wait a minute. Are you saying you have been stunted by something we did?”
“This technology is similar to your native simians crafting tools from the branches of trees. Forgive me if we have trouble understanding it.”
“But can you do it though?” I asked. “Can you hack into their communications network?”
“We should be able to,” Grayson said. “Stand by.”
I did.
And I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited.
For what seemed like uncounted hours, during which time I continued to stare at the unchanging horizon. I watched the breeze disrupt the leaves, viewed birds as they took flight from their places in the trees, and witnessed clouds as they rolled in from the distant north, all the while wonder
ing if this would happen today.
It seemed fruitless—and downright impossible—that we would talk with anyone today.
Then there came a crackle over the radio.
“I think someone’s listening,” the woman said.
I couldn’t tell if it was the president or not, given that her voice was low and her feverish pitch was causing her inflection to sound different than it normally was. Also—the line was filled with static, as though someone were attempting to mask whatever location they were in with sound. Whether or not this was the case I couldn’t be sure, but as I drew forward, toward the center of the cockpit and near the holographic display through which I had spoken to all the world’s dignitaries, I swallowed a lump in my throat in anticipation for what was to come.
Grayson nodded as I turned to look at it, then reached forward and adjusted a holographic dial that was hovering in midair.
It needn’t speak in order to alert me that it was my turn to begin delegations.
For that reason, and with the weight of the entire Gray people—and, in that regard, the world—upon my shoulders, I cleared my throat and said, “Hello?”
“Who has access to this communication channel?” the woman barked, her shrill tone cutting through the silence of the harvester ship and causing the hairs on the back of my neck to rise. “Stavros, what’s the status of our security?”
“It appears we’ve been breached, ma’am,” a man said.
“I understand that! But who is—”
“My name is Ana Mia Sofia Berrios,” I said, cutting the woman off before she could continue, “and I am in the Harvester ship hovering over your base of operations.”
The ship trembled, signaling the lowering of the cloaking technology. As the other line went silent, securing within my consciousness the fact that we had truly been acknowledged, the woman on the other end of the line breathed and said, “A human?”
“Yes ma’am,” I replied. “To whom am I speaking?”
“You are speaking to Suzanne Gale, former president of the United States of American.”
“Current president, ma’am,” I corrected.
The woman didn’t say anything. Rather, it sounded like she reached forward to adjust the microphone near her lips and said, “Who are you? And what do you want?”
I gestured to Grayson. Shortly thereafter, my holographic projection filled the sky above the space I instinctively knew the bunker to be and began to speak the words I had been instructed to say by the Gray people.
Moments passed by in which there was no reply, uncounted silence during which I felt as though the weight of the world were upon my shoulders. President Gale’s breathing softened, her gasp shattered my concentration, and her mumbling to either herself or her staff caught me off guard. When finally the message finished, and when I felt as though I could wait no more, I leaned toward the holographic computer panel and said, in a rather weak voice, “Madame president?”
“Are you being held against your will, Miss…”
“Berrios,” I corrected. “And no. I am here of my own free will.”
“And you are advocating for these peoples why, exactly?”
“Because I’m ready for this to be over,” I replied, “and because millions of people are going to die if something isn’t done.”
The president remained silent, then, as if she were thinking over everything I had just said. She waited several long moments before finally saying, “You cannot expect me to decide within a matter of minutes.”
“You need to decide soon, ma’am. Otherwise the Grays are going to come down and take what They believe is Theirs by force.”
“The Grays?”
“The people with whom I am currently working,” I replied.
“Just like out of a sci-fi movie,” the president laughed, her shrill voice filled with a frustration I knew could only come from a job of her caliber. “I don’t know how you found us, Ana Mia, but I assure you: if we can speak with one of Their peoples, we can most certainly come to some kind of arrangement.”
“Will you surrender?” Grayson asked.
The president paused. “Was that… one of Them?” she asked.
“Yes ma’am,” I said. “It was.”
“They speak our language?”
“They speak our language, know our cultures, our biology, and our planet. I think…” I turned to look at Grayson, who merely nodded and gestured me to continue. “I think… I think They really mean the best for the planet, Madame president. I think we should open our borders to Them and give Them humanitarian aid.”
“I see,” the woman replied. She waited several long moments, likely studying my motives and everything They had to offer, before she followed up by saying, “I will think about this, Ana Mia. Thank you for being a voice to the people in the sky. Knowing what They want and what Their intentions are will make this decision far easier.”
The communication line was closed, then, with a simple click of a button on her end.
I sighed.
My shoulders fell.
The breaths that’d been trapped in my chest were set free.
I waited, then, in the moments following my dialogue with Suzanne Gale, and tried to determine whether or not our conversation had gone well. Grayson seemed pleased. It was in its eyes, along its mouth, in its relaxed gestures as it continued to maneuver its hands along the holographic display panel. But just because Grayson thought it had gone well didn’t mean it had. It was, after all, alien, and only held an alien understanding of humanity and Their intellectual spectrum.
“Grayson,” I said.
“Yes?” the being replied.
“Can I return to my room?”
“You may.”
I didn’t hesitate as I turned and made my way into the hallway that held the storage room, nor as I palmed the touchpad to let myself in.
When finally I was sequestered inside the room, I took a moment to allow the adrenaline—as well as the energy that had come along with it—to die down before descending to my knees atop the mattress and then lying down.
Though not physically tired, my mind was spent from everything that had just occurred.
For seven years we’d existed beneath the almighty rule of Them.
Now that the ending was in sight, I couldn’t help but wonder:
Would president Suzanne Gale allow the aliens to take refuge within the United States, thereby declaring a ceasefire upon our invaders, or would she continue to prolong a war that we could never possibly win?
I didn’t know; and beyond what I’d already done, I had absolutely no control of what would happen next.
That was, undoubtedly, the worst feeling of all.
I was informed that the president had made her decision the following morning.
“Have you spoken with her yet?” I asked.
“No,” Grayson replied. “We have not. She specifically requested that you be present for the meeting.”
Me? Of all people, why did she wish for me to be present? Was it because I was involved—a person, a human—or did she have some ulterior motive?
Unable to know until I spoke to the woman myself, I pushed myself out of bed and stood to face Grayson, all the while knowing that the coming moments would decide the fate of the human race. “Is she ready for me?” I asked.
“She is awaiting your summons now.”
So this was it then—the last straw, the final frontier, the test in which my aptitude would be determined and the moment when I would realize whether or not my convictions had been taken as true. For that reason, I braced myself for what was to come—by closing my eyes, taking a deep breath, and then opening them to face Grayson once more. “All right,” I then said. “Let’s go.”
We made our way out into and then down the hall toward the command deck, wherein a multitude of the alien peoples stood around the holographic display panel awaiting our arrival. Grayson stepped forward first, ushering in a command that I knew was unrivaled upon thi
s ship. While waiting for me to step forward, the alien turned to look at me with eyes that, though normally devoid of emotion, seemed filled with something—hope, perhaps, or maybe even fear. It was obvious, however, from the tension in the room, that all Their dreams were hinging upon this moment, and dangling, ever so slightly, from the taut wire I had previously imagined myself balancing upon.
As I stepped forward, and as I prepared to hear the decision that would change the course of not only humanity, but the Grays as well, I took a deep breath, expelled it, and then said, “Madame president.”
“Is this Ana Mia Sofia Berrios?”
“Yes ma’am,” I said, “it is.”
“Good. I wanted you to be present when I declared my decision to the Gray people of the Zeta Reticuli system.”
Zeta Reticuli? How did they—or, more specifically, she—know where They’d come from?
Rather than question the matter, I simply nodded and waited for her to continue.
“We, of the people of the United States—operating strictly under my authority as the president of the United States—have decided that we wish to speak to the leader of the Grays in order to discuss Their integration and then habitation within the country.”
I could’ve burst from joy at the news. Grayson, however, immediately frowned. “Why do you wish to speak with our leader?” the alien asked. “Why not speak to one of us? Her generals?”
“Because we need to hear it from the queen herself,” President Gale replied. “I imagine that she will not have issue with descending to the planet and meeting with me?”
I immediately paled.
President Gale wanted the queen to meet her in person? And on the ground, no less? That could leave the queen open to attack, possibly even assassination. How could the president even begin to think—
“The queen will not leave her ship,” Grayson said, speaking in as cool and calm a voice as possible. “She will, however, likely allow you and a detachment of your personnel to board the mothership, so long as Ana Mia Sofia Berrios is president.”
I would be going into the mothership? And with the president of the United States, no less?