by Koch, Gini
We were out and toweling off and I decided to pick the conversation back up, now that I could speak coherently again. “So, the religion thing. It’s rampant here, so I don’t understand why you’re avoiding telling me about it. Are you guys devil worshipers or something?”
He winced. “No. That’s part of the problem, though.” Martini got really busy toweling off.
I nudged him. “Jeff, c’mon. Just tell me. It’ll be okay. You’re from a different planet. You have two hearts. You run fifty miles in the blink of an eye. And you’re a sex god. I think I’m prepared for a difference in religious backgrounds.”
He sighed. “That’s just it. There’s not that much difference.”
This was intriguing. “I want an explanation. With more words than you’ve gotten out so far.”
Martini rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine. It was great while it lasted. The world-sanctioned religion is similar to most of the religions on Earth. One ruling God-being created us all, good people go to Heaven, bad people go to Hell.”
“Okay, so what’s the problem?” I realized I only had the clothes I’d arrived here in to put on. Great.
“You have clean clothes in the drawers,” Martini said. “They should be sized for you, but we’ll get some stuff from your apartment later, just in case.”
“How—”
“Empath. Your worry level spiked as you looked at the dresser. Try to keep up.”
“Smart ass.” I pulled open a drawer—underwear, bras included. And they fit. Score another one for alien technology. “Okay, fine. Back to religion.”
“If we must. The world religion doesn’t believe in redemption. Basically, if you commit murder, you’re going to Hell. You can be as sorry as you want to be, but you can’t atone, there’s nothing you can do to save your soul.”
“Nasty. Does it keep violent crime down?”
“From what I’ve been told, yes, for the most part. But . . . we don’t believe that.”
I could hear the fear in his voice. Religious persecution was a galaxy-wide trait, who’d have figured? “What do you believe?”
“We don’t believe in Hell as a specific place. We believe a soul can be redeemed, that mistakes can be atoned for. We think a person should do right because it’s right, not because their soul will be in eternal jeopardy if they don’t toe the line. And,” this sounded dragged out of him, “we don’t believe we just showed up one day on the planet. We believe in evolution.”
I let this all sink in for a bit. “How much science is there on Alpha Centauri? A lot? I mean, you built an ozone shield, right?”
“My people built the ozone shield. Scientific aptitude is stronger in us than in the rest of the world.”
“Is that why you came to Earth, because you had the better scientific aptitude?”
Martini looked right at me, and his face was like stone. “No. We were sent to Earth because it was a convenient way to get us off the planet. We were the ones saying we had to help, we were the ones who realized the ozone shield had protected our world but would just send the parasites all the faster to yours. It was the perfect political solution—exile our entire population to another planet, help that planet at the same time, double win for everyone.”
“Except for those of you who will never see your real home world, and who are always going to be different, no matter what you do.”
He nodded. “If one of our people had married into a standard family, then they had the choice to stay on our home world. In some cases, they did, in others their immediate families came with us to Earth. But there wasn’t a lot of intermarriage, for a variety of reasons, so that percentage of our population here is pretty small.”
“So, your religion, is it something someone chooses?”
“No. We’re born into it. We aren’t pretending—we may not all look alike, but we’re all related by blood somewhere, traceable back to about twenty or so original family units from centuries ago.”
There it was. I thought this had sounded vaguely familiar. I hugged him tightly. “It’s okay, Jeff. I’m not horrified or turned off or even mildly shocked. After all, we Chosen People from different planets have to stick together.”
CHAPTER 23
THE CLOTHES IN THE DRAWER for me were what I’d seen most of the other women wearing—a black slim skirt and white oxford-type shirt. I hadn’t known Armani made this stuff for women, but I doubted the A-Cs were into faking designer labels. “Is this the official garb of your scientific facility, or does everyone double as a waitress?” Sadly, there were no attractive shoes. I was stuck with my sneakers. Fortunately, they were black and white Converse, so I could pretend I was just dressing for semi-stylish comfort.
“Yep. We like to keep things simple.” Martini was back in his nightclothes. His T-shirt was still a bit damp.
“Okay, you’re going straight to your room, right? Not going anywhere near my parents?”
He rolled his eyes. “They’re farther down the hall. And, yes, I’ll run. God forbid anyone should know I was here. Got it.”
“It’s not like that. Come on, you’re the empath. What are you feeling from me?”
“Anxiety.”
“And that’s all?” I knew I had more going on than anxiety. Lust had to be in there somewhere—he looked hot in the official nightclothes.
“You’re kind of making me go a little . . . haywire.” He grinned. “Has to do with romantic involvement. It’s an empathic thing.”
“Well, I guess that’s flattering.” We went to the door, and I grabbed and kissed him. “I mean it, I’m not ashamed to be with you. I just don’t want to deal with my parents about it right now.”
He gave me a crooked smile. “Okay, I’ll trust you on it. For now.”
I opened the door with the intention of checking to see if the coast was clear and just avoided my father’s fist slamming into my face.
“Hey!” I jumped back, right into Martini.
“Wow, amazing,” Dad said. “I was just about to knock.” He stepped in and noticed Martini. Dad went from genial to furious in less than one second. “What is he doing here at this time of the morning?”
I thought very fast. “He knew I didn’t know there were clothes here for me and came to give me a head’s up.”
“In his sleepwear?” Dad’s voice was sounding more like a bear’s growl.
“I’ll just let you two chat,” Martini said as he slipped around and out, using, I was pretty sure, a little boost of hyperspeed. He mouthed, “Sorry,” at the door, and then he ran down the hall, for sure using hyperspeed. Nice. He was out of the situation, and I was stuck alone with my father about to go all Cotton Mather on me.
“Dad, it’s not what you think.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s not. I’m sure it’s worse. You know they’re aliens? From another planet? What are you thinking, Katherine?” This was bad. Dad only called me Katherine when he was beyond furious.
“Daddy, really, you’re overreacting.” And these days I only called him Daddy when I was in total panic.
Dad was about to explode when a throat cleared. We both looked at the door and saw Mom standing there. “Sol, I think you need to calm down.” Mom was on my side in this? I was ready to sob with relief.
“Do you know who was in here with her, in his pajamas?” Dad sputtered.
“I’d guess it was Jeff,” Mom said, giving me a “we’ll talk about this later” look.
“Exactly! And as much as I’d like to believe otherwise, I’m sure he spent the night here!”
“Only part of the night,” I admitted. “Because I’d had a nightmare, and he came in to take care of me.”
Dad was about to rant on when Mom put her hand up. “Jeff came in because your nightmare woke him up?” I nodded. “What kind of nightmare?”
I sat down on the sofa. “The horrible kind.” I told them both about my dream. It wasn’t any less vivid even after all the great sex and religious revelations.
Mom was quiet when I finis
hed, but Dad spoke. “Kitten, why didn’t you come to us?”
I shook my head. “Dad, I couldn’t get out of bed, and I had no idea where you were. It was so awful . . .” I felt tears start to come, and I stopped talking. I’d cried enough last night.
“Sol, Jeff’s an empath, a very powerful one from what Paul and Christopher told me. And he’s very interested in Kitty romantically. When she woke up from a nap in New York, she panicked, and he came running. I think it’s understandable he’d do the same thing last night.”
“But he was still here this morning,” Dad snapped.
Mom heaved a sigh. “Sol? Do you remember the day we met?”
Dad got a nostalgic look on his face, but his smile was very cat-satisfied. “Yes. Exciting day.”
“Very,” Mom said dryly. “And, if you’d care to recall, I spent the night with you. For your protection.”
My jaw dropped. “You and Dad slept together the first day you’d known each other?” Sluttiness ran in the family. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or grossed out.
Mom rolled her eyes. “Shockingly, yes. We had sex in order to conceive you, too. Hope you can deal with the surprise that you weren’t a virgin birth.”
“But that was us,” Dad protested.
At this, Mom and I both laughed. My father was many things, but a hypocrite wasn’t one of them. He realized what he’d said and laughed, too.
“She’s twenty-seven years old, Sol,” Mom managed to gasp through her laughter. “And, to shatter another ridiculous illusion of yours, Jeff wouldn’t be the first.”
Dad sighed. “Yeah, I know. I had to figure at least one boyfriend in college managed to break her resolve down.”
I managed to keep a reasonably innocent look on my face. I figured this wasn’t the time or the place to share that I’d lost my resolve earlier than college.
Mom chose not to shatter this little fantasy of my father’s either. “Right. So enough with the huffy father routine. We have a matter of national and global security at hand, as well as at least two entities trying to kill us, or worse. We need to work as a team, not spend our energies bickering about natural human and, apparently, alien drives.”
“And yet you’re okay with her becoming intimate with a space alien?” Dad was going to take one last shot at the righteous parental indignation.
“They’re religious exiles from their world,” I blurted out.
“How so?” Dad asked.
I related what Martini had told me. “So,” I finished, “they’ve been persecuted for their religious beliefs, and since they’re born into those beliefs, really it’s persecution based on who they are.”
“That’s too bad, but still . . .” Dad seemed sympathetic but unconvinced.
“Sort of like they’re the . . . the Jews of space,” I tossed out in desperation. I saw Mom put her head in her hands at this.
But it worked. Dad’s eyes widened. “You think they keep kosher?”
“Sol!”
“Just asking.”
“Sol, we don’t keep kosher, for God’s sake!”
“Is he circumcised?” This to me, with total scientific interest beaming from every pore.
“Dad!”
“Well, is he?”
“Yeah, because it helps us fit in as humans,” Martini said. I looked up to see him leaning against the doorway. He was back in the standard issue Armani suit. But now I knew what was under the clothes. He looked great in them, but I wanted to rip them off. Only, not in front of my parents. “So, anything you want to ask me about my relationship with your daughter? I’ve already shared my intentions with your lovely wife.”
“And what might those be?” Dad asked. I winced in anticipation of Martini’s answer and Dad’s reaction to it.
“I want to marry her and have a lot of kids. Oh, and I knew that within the first hour I’d known her.”
Dad looked pleased, and I wondered if there was something in the water around here. “Oh, then, that’s fine. You go to temple?”
Martini shook his head. “Not like yours. But, yeah, we all practice our religion here. It doesn’t involve anything a normal Judeo-Christian religion would find appalling,” he added quickly.
“We can get into the intricacies later,” Mom interjected. “I think Kitty’s dream is more pressing.”
“I agree,” Martini said. “Ready to get something to eat and find Paul?”
I leaped up. “Absolutely.”
“Oh, I need Kitty for just a minute,” Mom said. “Why don’t you take Sol to the dining room, Jeff? Christopher’s already shown me the way, so I’ll get Kitty there.”
Martini gave her a suspicious look, but he nodded. “Sounds fine. See you in a couple minutes,” he said to me as he and Dad left the room. I could tell he was worried. So was I, so we were in sync.
Mom closed the door as they left, then turned around and crossed her arms over her chest. “You want to explain why you didn’t listen to me?”
I sat back down. We weren’t going anywhere fast. “I haven’t said I’d marry him. Martini just told Dad what he told you.”
Mom sighed. “You take any time to think about what’s going on between you and Christopher?”
“No. Look, we can’t say two sentences to each other without snarling. I’m glad you think he’s wonderful, but, looks aside, I think he’s ninety-nine percent jerk with one percent usefulness thrown in.”
Mom sat down next to me. “Okay, I’m not going to push this, because I was serious—that dream of yours has me freaked out. I think your subconscious picked up something we’re all missing, so I agree you need to tell the others about it so we can figure out what’s really going on. I’m sure our lives depend on it.”
She put her arm around my shoulders. “I know you think I don’t like Jeff, but I do believe there’s more depth to him than he lets show. Am I right?”
I nodded. “He came in to take care of me, Mom. I was so terrified . . . .” I had to stop and swallow. Thinking about the nightmare was still affecting me. “And, you know, I was attracted to him from the moment I saw him.”
“Who wouldn’t be?” Mom asked with a laugh.
“Well, apparently all your new best girlfriends forever.” I told her about Claudia and Lorraine. “It’s weird. I think the A-Cs might be better off here. There’s not a human man or woman who wouldn’t consider them the hottest things on two legs, their women want our smart men regardless of looks, and their men probably just want anyone who doesn’t make them feel like attractive morons.”
“They have fairly strict rules about human-alien marriage,” Mom said quietly. “Christopher told me about it. It’s one of the reasons he’s upset with Jeff—the likelihood the two of you would be allowed to marry is slim.”
CHAPTER 24
I HADN’T SERIOUSLY CONSIDERED MARRYING Martini until Mom said no one would let us. Then the rebellious part of me that had me reading Betty Freidan and putting up Susan B. Anthony posters in my room two decades past the height of the Women’s Movement kicked in.
“It’s not their choice, it’s ours.”
“Your little Jews in Space line is more on the mark than you realize,” Mom said patiently. “Orthodox Jews from Space might be more accurate, though.”
“I know you and Dad had issues in getting married—”
“And only the fact I was in the Mossad and had saved his life allowed his parents to manage to accept me. Your father and his siblings rebelled against their parents’ strict outlook, but they had the rest of the world to support them. The A-C clan doesn’t. For example, Jeff has no options for health care other than from another A-C being, unless he’s excited about becoming a human experimental toy. You couldn’t have your children at any hospital at home, for the same reason. They’ll look human on the outside, but on the inside, the A-C genes are dominant.”
I took a deep breath. “I’m not ready to get married, so this is sort of a silly conversation.”
“You need to know
what you’re getting into. I didn’t think I was going to marry your father, either. It just sort of happened, falling in love, real love, not lust.”
“I do lust Martini,” I admitted. “I don’t know if I love him.” I thought about the flashes of pain I’d witnessed and the way he’d looked lost and lonely talking about the home world he’d never seen and never would see. “I care about him, though.”
“It’s clear he cares about you, as well. Just be aware—he’s not the only one.” Mom stood. “We’d better go. I’m sure you’re hungry after getting a lot of, ah, exercise last night.”
“Says who?” I stood too, hoping I looked righteously innocent.
“Says the supremely satisfied glow and relaxed body language. I’m your mother, let’s please remember. Lost your virginity in college my ass,” she added as we went to the door.
“Oh, let him keep his illusions.”
“I will. He’s hard enough to live with when he’s got them intact. Every shattered illusion takes weeks to get him over.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m used to it. Besides, he makes up for it in other ways.”
“Too much information! I don’t want to hear another word about your sex life. We’ve already covered more of mine than I wanted to share.”
“That’s fine, we can talk about your shoes instead. Starting with, why?”
We wandered down unfamiliar corridors, but Mom was striding along as if she’d lived here all her life. “All I had, thanks so much. You were packed for a trip, and Dad got to bring whatever he wanted. I was lucky Martini broke a rule and took me back to my apartment to change out of my suit. Besides, they’re comfortable.”
“You look as though you’re trying to bring the eighties’ suit and tennis shoes look back. Comfy, yes. Attractive, not so much.”
“What are you, the Terrorism Fashionista?”
“Just get a more appropriate pair of shoes before we have to go anywhere.”