For Us Humans

by Steve Rzasa

  Ally smiled, but it was one of those sad smiles that didn’t go with her eyes. I didn’t want her to be upset, especially because of me. Or us. Whatever. “What do you want to know?”

  “Is he doing well? School, other kids, home, that kind of stuff.”

  “He is. Getting good grades. He likes his school and his teachers. Spends a lot of time playing weird board games and computer games related to Star Wars.” She laughed. “Doesn’t talk about girls with his parents, though.

  I grinned and felt better until I realized what she said. His parents. Not us. “Sounds like he has good people taking care of him.”

  “Yes, he does.”

  I bit into my sandwich and tried to compose my thoughts into speech. Hard to do with the music in the background and the conversations flowing around us.

  “Caz, what do you want?”

  “Me?” I washed down the food with more wine. The more the better. “What do I want?”

  She nodded. “No lies.”

  Whoa. No pressure there. I lied to everybody. My bosses. Isaac. Ally. Nil. So that left me with few words I could use to fill in the silence.

  “I want to know what you want from me, Caz, right now.” There were no tears in those blue jewels of eyes. Just conviction. I’d seen it plenty of times.

  Jewels? Wow. That’s rich. “We have a son. We have a responsibility to him.”

  “Yes, we do.” Ally seemed surprised by my admission. So was I.

  “And that means I have a responsibility to you, too, Ally.”

  “I . . .” She bit her lip.

  What did I want? No clue. No, scratch that. I knew exactly what I wanted. Her in my arms, the qwaddos off my planet, and my church back the way it was. Guess which of those three was actually going to happen. Zero.

  We lived on opposite sides of the country. My job—well, it didn’t lend itself to stable relationships. Not when I had to jet out all over the place and pretend to be somebody other than me for months at a time.

  So I lied. “I think it’s better if I just don’t get involved with you right now.”

  “What?”

  “With you. Or him. Kyle.”

  “Our son. You can say it, Caz.”

  I have a son.

  Sadness fell over her face like a shadow descending. It was a curtain that Ally stared out from behind.

  “I’m sorry. Sorry.” I fumbled for my wallet. Gotta get cash, pay the bill, leave the tip, get out of here.

  Buzz.

  My phone. Again. Probably Rutherford.

  “Caz, wait. Please.” She touched my hand.

  It froze me in place. I’d dreamed about it, you know. Her touch. And not just on my hand, but all over, everywhere, like we used to. Forgot about all those other women. Sometimes on the same nights I was with them.

  Her hand cut away all my lies and deceit, right through my armor, and left only me. The real me.

  I leaned over the table and kissed her.

  You know how they talk about the sound around you fading out and all you can feel is the warmth of her lips and all that jazz? Way better. We stayed like that for who knows how long. Kissing. Rediscovering. A decade lost. But we’d never left each other.

  She leaned back first. Her eyes were closed and when they opened, they shone with tears. But she had that smile again. “Wow.”

  “That’s the word I was going for.” I grinned. “Ally, I can’t hide anymore. Forget what I said about not getting involved. Shouldn’t have lied to you. I want you back. Want to be with you. There’s nobody else who matters like you do. It doesn’t matter that you’re out here and I’m, well, wherever. I think I feel . . . no, scratch that. I love you.”

  She blushed. Took a sip of her iced tea. And giggled. God, I loved that sound.

  “You love me. Are you sure?”

  “As sure as I can be. It’s been a long time since—” The phone buzzed again. Leave me alone!

  “I love you too, Caz. I never stopped.” She brushed back her hair and tucked it behind her ear. Her voice pounded right into my head, as strong as my heartbeat. Might have been some wine amplification going on, but mostly she was just amazing.

  “About Kyle.” I waved my hand. “Let me try. Let me talk to him.”

  “I shouldn’t have pushed you about him.”

  “No, like I said. My responsibility. Maybe when this whole—” Job? Operation? Sting? “Thing is over I can meet him. Our son.”

  It felt good to say the words.

  She kissed me again. Then she laughed. Tapped her right cheek.

  I frowned, until I realized she was giving me a signal. Used my phone as a mirror and chuckled. Lipstick smudge, big time.

  “Let’s get out of here.” I put my money on the table.

  We finished our drinks and wove between the tables to the front door. Held hands. I even held the door open for her. She giggled again and stepped very daintily across the threshold.

  And then she yelped.

  Instinct took over. I yanked on her arm, pulling her back at the same time I swung myself in front, hand held out to block whomever or whatever had spooked her.

  It was Nil. He was glaring at me.

  “Stalker much?” I hissed. “What are you doing here, playing alien chaperone? Did you sniff me out? Dumb question. Of course you did.”

  “We have a problem. I could not wait for you to finish your mating ritual.”

  That sounded like an insult. My hands balled into fists. “Watch it. And where have you been? You went AWOL on me and I almost got pounded by a few of your four-armed brethren in the process of trying to track you down.”

  “I endeavored to find the scent of whoever took the walker that was found at Mosier Gulch last night. The Biqasohon who maintain the vehicle were unable to assist me in my cover as an art collector. They too were confounded by the lack of a scent, though theirs does not compare to the ability of a Hounder.”

  “Aren’t you special.”

  “However, they did have visual surveillance, as the staging area they use also contains human vehicles and has primitive cameras. I was able to—surreptitiously access it.”

  “Nil, you sneak. I’m so proud.” I feigned a sniffle.

  He held up a small black ball, clutched in the three fingers of his upper left hand. A picture floated in it, encased in a cloud of light. Wow. High-class portable hologram generator. I mentally added it to my Never-Gonna-Happen Christmas list.

  It was a human. Grainy image, but it was definitely one of us good old-fashioned two-armed specimens of mankind. He was getting into the walker.

  “You know what this means, Foss.”

  I nodded. “It wasn’t any of your kind at Mosier Gulch. Or any other alien.”

  “Indeed,” Nil grumbled. “It was a human who stole that walker and tried to kill us. A human with alien assistance.”

  Isaac was the definition of “godsend.” He called about five seconds later to let me know Carpenter was flying directly to Buffalo from Denver on a connecting hexplane flight.

  Great. That meant he’d be showing up right as I was trying to negotiate with Tyler Fisk.

  “What course of action do you suggest?” Nil rumbled.

  “I suggest we act like the FBI is not breathing down our necks and go ahead with the meet. I want Fisk nice and snug inside the library when that six-engine airplane buzzes overhead and stops in a hover to announce to everyone that some VIP is coming to town,” I snapped. And I just had an excellent date.

  Speaking of which, we were standing by the BMW parked down the street from Up N’ Smoke. Ally was by her truck, a pearly white 1966 Ford Bronco. Classic ride. Blue interior, only a handful of rust spots. She twirled her keys and watched me like—well, like a woman who’d had a very promising date interrupted. “This is perhaps the best time to bid her farewell, Foss, if we are to complete our mission.”

  “Yeah. I guessed that. Why don’t you go inside and get comfortable?”

  He hesitated. “I apologize for n
ot keeping you informed. If our positions were reversed I would have been severely angered.”

  That made me laugh. “Funny, I was mad. But you did good. We both managed to pull together more pieces of the puzzle, Nil, so—ah, forget it. That and the whole argument last night.”

  “You have accepted that I seek the same truth?” Nil cocked his head aside.

  No, not this time. “Hold that thought. Go get the room.”

  I walked over to Ally, arms spread wide. “Sorry about that.”

  “I’m not sure what that was, but you guys looked pretty intense for a couple of art critics,” she said.

  “Buyers.”

  “Sure. I am familiar with what you really do, Caz.”

  “Uh-huh. You know I can’t say—”

  “It’s okay.” I must have made the I-don’t-buy-it man frown because she nodded and added, “Really, Caz, I do. That’s the one thing about you that’s always been honest: you hate it when art thieves get away with their crime.”

  “It’s not the only thing honest,” I said. “Someone once said nobody takes art crime seriously because it’s seen as victimless. You know what? Society is the victim. It’s like civilization itself got mugged. Yeah, I get paid to do it but that’s not the best part. It’s putting the sculpture back in the museum or giving the painting back to the family and knowing I saved it. I stopped them.”

  She smiled. “You be careful.”

  I leaned in and kissed her. She got in her truck, started up the engine. Man, that thing sounded great. If I had more time, we could go off-road up to the mountains. “Hey, Ally?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Your church service. Nine o’clock,right?”

  “I assume that means you’re coming.”

  “Assume that means I might possibly show up.” And I’d kick myself for this part but . . . “With an interested acquaintance.”

  Ally glanced at Nil, who was already back. “I’ll save a couple spots in the pew. Bye.”

  “See ya.”

  I headed back toward the Bimmer and, by default, Nil. He stood there, all four arms folded. It looked difficult for him, but he must have been aping human gestures. “You got the room?”

  “I did.”

  He was staring. “So what else?”

  “Your female is kind toward others, Foss. I sniff why you are attracted to her.” He nodded curtly. “Also, thank you for making arrangements for a visit to a church.”

  Man, I was getting soft. “Let’s go do our sting.”

  <<<>>>

  We waited in the big study room at the library, door closed. I had the chairs arranged so that I was at the head of the table, facing out into the library, and Nil was seated to my left. A third chair was at the opposite end of the table from me, and the fourth was to its left.

  Nil stared at the opposite wall, breathing deeply and slowly. Alien meditation again. He had the Lexicon busy spitting holographic text into the air right in front of him. I kept an eye out for Fisk but wished I knew qwaddo script so I could see what he was reading.

  Asking Nil for a translation was on the tip of my tongue—then Fisk walked past the front desk.

  His blond hair was still short, just not buzzed clean to his scalp. He was dressed casually—a green-gray T-shirt and blue jeans, with brown shoes—but they were all in good shape. No stains or tears. His shirt was tucked in. His arms were tanned, as was his face, replacing the pale skin from the photo.

  You could tell by the way he walked and his posture that he was military. That stuff doesn’t just slough off when you get your discharge papers.

  Nah, the worst part was his expression, which I could see clearly when he spotted us in the meeting room. The face was somber—not angry like the photo, but weary. The eyes were dulled somehow. Not from drink or drugs. Something else, I couldn’t place it. Not the same hazel-eyed, steely-gaze veteran.

  I opened the door. “Fisk. Lancaster Foss.” I gestured behind me into the room. “This is Nil, my collector.”

  Fisk nodded. “Gentlemen.”

  He had a grip that left my hand aching, though I matched his. Close enough, anyway. Nil doused his hologram book lights and stowed the projector-thingie in one of his umpteen pockets. He stood and gave Fisk the spread-armed greeting that had made me think he was primed for attack when we’d first met in Denver. I about fell over when Fisk returned a smooth passable human-version of the same greeting. I’d read he’d served offworld and likely with qwaddos as Santoro had, but there was hard evidence.

  “Have a seat.” I closed the door again, shutting us off from the rest of the library.

  Fisk’s eyes scanned every square inch of the room. He slid the fourth chair I’d set up clear against the wall and sat down in the third chair opposite me. He oriented his body toward the door with his back to the wall, so he was actually sitting sideways. I assumed so he could watch both the goings-on out in the library and both me and Nil.

  “I understand from Mr. Foss you have acquired art of a most unique nature, Mr. Fisk.” Boy, Nil could sure sound suave when he wanted to.

  “Yeah, I have.” Fisk sat perfectly still. Statuesque. Make that, gargoylesque, if that’s even a word, because his muscles were taut like he was ready to pounce. No twitches, no scratching body parts, no tugging at creases in clothes. I notice these ticks in everyone’s behavior. Fisk didn’t have any, apparently. Couldn’t tell you the last time I saw someone who didn’t.

  “You got the goods for us to see? We need proof, Fisk, if we’re going to commit up front to the buy,” I said.

  “Understood.” He reached for his pocket and paused. “Just my phone.” And it was, too, not a gun. Same kind of smartphone as Santoro’s. He tapped the screen a couple of times and set it on the table.

  The Sozh Uqasod. It glowed up at us, spinning serenely like every time I’d seen it. No, I did not freak out. Kept a sufficiently tight lid on it.

  Beside me, Nil’s sniffer was going bonkers. His eyes were nearly closed, only dark slits visible. “Verification. How do we know this image is not faked? Or that you indeed have the statue?”

  Fisk reached for the phone, tapped the image a few more times. “Time and date stamp. Should be authentic enough for you gentlemen. Give me an email so I can send you the file and you have someone you trust verify it or verify it yourself. It was recorded—very recently.”

  His voice caught when he said that last bit. I rattled off my email address for him. Not that I was really going to check his image file. My personal verification unit was sitting right next to me, sniffing for any indication of the Sozh.

  My phone buzzed. “Sorry, hang on.” Rutherford texting? Maybe Isaac? Panic jolted me as I realized it might be Carpenter, newly arrived, but I hadn’t heard any large planes overhead.

  It was from Nil.

  I was momentarily flummoxed until I remember his brain Bluetooth. “Fisk, you mind if I take this? Just a text. I got another dealer bugging me, guy’s a total jerk. Let me stall.”

  Fisk stared, eyes looking like they could scan my internal organs, but he nodded and seemed satisfied.

  Nil started asking Fisk about his town, how charming it was, what was life like on this corner of Earth, blah blah blah. Meanwhile I read the text, and yes, it was from Nil:

  [Foss, I have the scent of the Sozh Uqasod, so powerful it can only be in this very room with us. It is indeed on his person. Fisk’s scent is the same I first detected at the museum, and later in the stolen truck. Same as the scent that led us to Buffalo.]

  Just like that. Fifty-three words that confirmed everything we’d done to track the statue up to this point. I kept that easy-going half-smile on my lips as I tucked the phone back into my pocket. “Again, sorry about that.”

  “You didn’t text him back,” Fisk said.

  “No, he’s being impatient and needs to learn to wait. I’m not jumping through hoops for this guy.” Great story about someone who didn’t exist, right? I tapped my fingers on the table. “Back to business
.”

  “Sure. Your collector here was just telling me how much he appreciates human artwork.”

  “Indeed your species has a bewildering array of styles and modes. The Consociation has encountered no other race thus gifted in its four-hundred-year expansion from the home sector. I am told it is one of the many reasons your system was chosen for inclusion as a protectorate.”

  “Our location was the prime reason, though,” Fisk said. “What with the folds in space lining up so perfectly for the placement of a Big Ring along the Consociation trade spine and military transport routes. Nobody even knows how many different locations you can jump to through the Big Ring. I’ve been to three.”

  Had to figure a guy like Fisk who’d been offworld would note the strategic importance of Earth and its solar system. Nil cocked his head aside, and I got the impression he’d just been schooled. Which made me grin.

  “It is true Earth is vital to the Nor-i-Nanq paths. But there are always other factors that affect the Consociation’s decisions when it embraces a new world.”

  “Must be some embrace,” I said, “what with four arms.” Both Nil and Fisk gave me surly looks. So much for levity.

  “You two didn’t happen to discuss price while I zoned out, did you? Because I’m here for the buy.”

  “I told you three hundred thousand,” Fisk said.

  “Yeah, and I told you we’d get fifty thousand upfront.” I slapped the envelope down on the table. “Bearer bond, untraceable, as promised.”

  “It is an acceptable price,” Nil said. “My collection will be greatly enhanced by the scent of this marvelous piece.”

  Easy, don’t lay it on too thick, Nil.

  Fisk smiled. He reached for the envelope, slipped the bearer bond out. “You know, the Ghiqasu sense of smell amazed me when I served with your Groundpounders on Daron Qen. Against the Nivax. You guys could sniff out anything. Put our tracking dogs to shame.”

  Nil nodded. “Our soldiers are gifted. My senses are not as finely tuned as theirs. You will find it varies by race, a product of our genes.”

  “We can get you the rest of the money tomorrow, Fisk,” I said, wanting very much to get this conversation back on track. Fisk’s non sequitors bothered me. “Two hundred fifty thousand.”