by Gini Koch
A picture came onscreen now. The other pictures had been put up one small screen at a time, so that there were eight pictures filling the screen. But this one was a single, eight-frame view. It was a side-by-side picture, the before and after shot.
Before was a humanoid scarab beetle, a very pretty kind of electric blue with green highlights. Nothing most humans would want to snuggle with but otherwise along the lines of the Lyssara—it wasn’t threatening unless you were afraid of bees or bugs. And if you were, you could still see the face, make out that there was something more there than just an insect.
But the after picture told a different story. Overall it was now a sort of dark, iridescent blue and three times the size it had been, all bulky muscle underneath a chitin shell that looked a lot thicker than it had been originally. Where it had had pincer-like hands originally, it now had metal claws that would have made Edward Scissorhands jealous, particularly because the claws moved like fingers.
Its face was altered, too. A mouthful of serrated teeth, sharp, pointed horns coming out from the top of its forehead, and bright, crazy red eyes. And now, to put the icing on the cupcake, it had wings.
“This is one of the Aicirtap. They were pleasant and peaceful and friends with every alien race you’ve seen so far and many you haven’t. Until they were uplifted by our enemies, the Z’porrah, and turned into killing machines. They eat their victims. Alive. And every alien whose picture you just saw, along with everyone on Earth, they now consider their food.”
New images came on now. War scenes. Horrible war scenes. Scorched and destroyed earth, any buildings in rubble, half-eaten bodies strewn about, blood everywhere. But no dead Aicirtap. Dead other beings, and lots of them, but no Aicirtap bodies.
“Some of the alien races on the Faradawn and Jewel of the Sky ships have no homes anymore. They’re the last of their races. Some still have home planets they can’t reach or fear for. Every alien race that’s about to land here considers themselves refugees of some kind.”
The Q’vox were possibly the worst, because they were so huge and looked so mighty. And they were so horrifically dead, faces, if there were faces left, twisted in terrible agony. Like our people would be dead if we didn’t get it together.
“Now, it’s up to all of you. Do we offer safe haven to these people who have nothing left and nowhere else to go? Or do we turn them away, like we’ve all done to our own people, our own race, time and time again? Do we let the Aicirtap come destroy us and the people who’ve come to us for protection? Do we keep on squabbling with each other until the Aicirtap arrive and eat us? Or do we act like the warlord, or possibly, like something better, the something better we can be, and protect our world and those who’ve come to us for help?”
Stopped speaking and waited. To see what our world was going to pick.
CHAPTER 65
A MAN IN THE AUDIENCE stood up. He was old and I was pretty sure he was an ayatollah. “Who is their God?” He pointed at the screen. “Who do they follow?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Do they fight a holy war?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Are the others their enemies?”
“At one time they were all friends. And I ask again—why does it matter?”
He and I looked at each other. Another stare-down. Lucky me. Wasn’t confident with someone like this—had to bet he’d won a lot of stare-downs in his day. And there was no way in the world I was intimidating him.
Could see the teleprompter in my peripheral vision. Pictures of what the Aicirtap had done were flashing by. Wasn’t sure if it was going to be enough.
Finally, he nodded. “They will eat us regardless of the God we worship, or the God they worship. Even if it is the same God.”
“Yes.”
“Who will lead?”
Oh, fantastic, another question likely to start the arguments up all over again. Couldn’t give the same response, though, because it definitely mattered.
The picture on my teleprompter changed, to a picture of me and Jeff. Winced inside. I was on a Harley and Jeff was leaning out of a helicopter to pull me off. In other words, it was the scene I knew had broadcast to the world, the scene that pretty much ensured that Hollywood wanted to make Code Name: First Lady. Had no idea what Serene was thinking.
“Have lost control of the feeds,” she said urgently. “I’m not sure who—”
“They will.” The voice that interrupted Serene wasn’t mine, and it wasn’t from someone in the room. It was from someone in the Heads of State room. Hadn’t remembered the audio feed was two-way. The voice was also familiar.
And so was the person who stood up. “I am Gustav Drax, Prince of the planet Vatusus, youngest in the line of our monarchy that has lasted for ten thousand years and will last for ten thousand more. I have met most of you. In this fight there can be only one leader. And it must be the leader who has already successfully repelled the strongest force in the galaxy from this part of the galaxy not once, but twice.”
Drax had his hair pulled back into a high ponytail, showing the organic metal plates in his head. The lights in them were blinking. So he’d used the natural Vata ability to mentally join with electronics to take over the feed. Not a surprise, really. For all I knew, what ACE had done was give the suggestion via subtle means to the Vata here on Earth to control and prevent the nuclear launches worldwide. I hadn’t thought of asking them, either, but maybe Jeff or Chuckie or someone else had.
Of course, if Drax was here, who was flying his ship? And, the other question was, where was his ship parked? In the U.S. or somewhere here in the region?
“They did not work alone,” someone in that room pointed out.
“No,” Drax agreed. “They did not. However, they led, and it was their leadership that ensured victory. I have heard from my father, the King of Vatusus. The Z’porrah fleet is on the move, traveling toward Tau Ceti, Sirius, Yggethnia, Alpha Centauri, and Earth. Spies are certain the Z’porrah plan to overtake this part of the galaxy by force, using the Aicirtap as their shock troops.”
This created a lot of panic in both rooms. Heaved a sigh. “SHUT UP!” My bellow was getting better, practice making perfect and all that. Butler’s was as well and he had to bellow in a variety of languages. He was the android for the job, though. The rooms quieted. “Gustav, you again have the floor.”
“Thank you, My Queen Regent.” Uh oh. Here it came. “Some of you stare at that title, and some of you have already heard it. Because of who the President of the United States is, he and his wife, the First Lady, are considered the King and Queen Regent of Earth by the Alpha Centauri Empire. That makes Earth a part of that empire. And for that, more than anything else, you should be grateful.”
“Why?” the old ayatollah, who was still standing, asked.
“Because this fight cannot be fought alone. And the Vatusan fleet will not come at the request of some mere elected official, or a petty king of a small land. And in comparison to Vatusus, all your lands are small.” Drax got a lot of sneering contempt into those words.
“Why will they come?” the old ayatollah asked.
“They will come if another world leader they respect requests it. And my father respects only two on this world.” Another picture of me and Jeff, this one a little more professional, taken at Jeff’s inauguration party, popped onscreen.
Drax waited for a few long, theatrical moments. Really, he was impressive when he wasn’t trying to be sneaky. “Choose your allegiance. You align with them, you join Centaurion Division as one cohesive fighting force, and I can promise that Vatusus will rally their forces, and the forces of other allies in our part of the galaxy, and they will come and intercept the Z’porrah and drive them away. If you choose your usual human ways, Vatusus will wash their hands of Earth and never offer assistance again. So say I, Prince Gustav of the Vata, for my father, King Va
rian the Twentieth of Vatusus.”
Drax nodded, then sat down.
“I have control again,” Serene said in my ear. “No idea what picture to put up, if any.”
The old ayatollah was still standing. Looked at him. He was acting as the Voice of the Crowd, meaning whatever he did or said next was probably going to be what the majority agreed with.
“Per your Supreme Pontifex, your husband does not crave rule.”
“He doesn’t. He’s a natural leader, but becoming the President was never his goal. It just sort of happened.” Oh well, in for that whole piggybank again. “He didn’t ask to be the Annocusal King Regent of this planet, either. But when the time came to choose a new Emperor of the Alpha Centauri system, he refused the crown and chose Earth as his home.”
“And therefore, to his people, he is King,” the old ayatollah said.
Considered how to reply. But Gower answered before I had to. “No.”
The room turned to look at him, as did the camera, so I had a view of Gower in the room and on my teleprompter. Didn’t see Tim, Reader, Lorraine, or Claudia anywhere but couldn’t risk obviously looking around the room to find them.
“How do your people see him?” the old ayatollah asked. The floating cameras were doing their job. The video feed was switching back and forth between him and Gower.
“American Centaurion has three leaders. The Supreme Pontifex, the Head of Field for Centaurion Division, and the Head of the Diplomatic Corps. Those leaders answer to the President of the United States, which is our home country. Jeff has been the Head of Field and the Diplomatic Corps, Kitty the Head of the Diplomatic Corps as well. Now that they’re the President and First Lady, American Centaurion answers to them. Just as we always have.”
Gower looked around the room. “But we’ve been here, long before many of you knew we were, hiding in plain sight, doing our best to protect this world from the threats against it, most of which you have no idea of because we kept them from you. And now you know what’s coming.” Pictures of the Aicirtap’s devastation came onscreen.
“American Centaurion will not turn away the refugees, because we were once refugees and, unlike humans, we remember. If we must house them in our Bases, then we will do so. And we will do what the man who’s led us for over a decade says to do.” Now Serene put up Jeff’s picture.
“Whether you want to call him President, King Regent, or merely what he’d prefer, which is Jeff, American Centaurion will follow his lead.”
Thought he was done, but Gower went on. “However, the rest of the aliens, both here and arriving shortly? They don’t actually follow Jeff’s lead.” This got the rooms murmuring again. Fantastic. “Hush,” Gower said in a normal tone. Everyone shut up. Well, he was the nice one.
“The aliens follow the lead of one person and one person only. And they’re coming to ask for help from one person and one person only. The person who repaired our alliance with the ruling Annocusal Empire of Alpha Centauri. The person who has, so far, repelled not one, and not two, but actually three alien invasions. The person who stopped a multiplanet civil war. The person who saved a planet not their own, filled with sentient life, from destruction.
“The person who forged the alliance with the Vata, the Turleens, the Reptilians, the Feliniads, the Shantanu, the Lecanora, the Canus Majorians, and the Free Women.” As he listed their planets, the representatives in the room here and the Heads of State room, which was now onscreen, stood up. Hadn’t realized it, but Renata had gone to the Heads of State room somewhere in there.
“The person who forged an alliance with the Cleophese.” At this, a picture of the Space Cthulhus appeared. Taken somehow during Operation Civil War. Presumably to show the size of the Cleophese as compared to the spaceships. The gasps in the room shared that they were impressed. Or terrified. Probably both. “And the person who repelled beings so powerful as to be gods to us, who made them leave and leave us alone.” Thankfully, no pictures of Sandy or the other Superconciousnesses, and, extra thankfully, none of them stood up in either room.
“All these aliens and more give their loyalty to one person on this planet, and one person only.” Gower pointed. At me. “Her. The aliens follow her. And if you want to live, you’ll follow her, too.”
Then he sat down. And, once again, it was time to see what was going to happen.
CHAPTER 66
ALL HEADS TURNED toward the old ayatollah, who was still standing. He was, by now, clearly the spokesperson for the entire religious body, whatever differences they had notwithstanding.
He turned around and looked at me. I looked right back because I was always up for a stare-down regardless of where or when or with whom.
“What would you have us do?” he asked me finally.
Well, for this, I actually had an answer. “Welcome the alien refugees and allow them to live where they can survive best, whether on Earth or one or more of the planets or moons in our solar system, none of which we ‘own,’ before anyone starts complaining. Gather every fighting force we have as fast as humanly possible, probably under Centaurion Division because it has the most experience with dealing and fighting with aliens, and get them prepped to fight the Aicirtap. And stop fighting amongst ourselves, because this is our Brave New World and we either go forward together, as one race, as one planet, or we’re all going to die. Not necessarily in that order.”
The ayatollah seemed to be considering this. Did my best to look calm and in control because, despite Gower’s speech, I didn’t feel confident that whatever happened next was going to go our way.
“Who do you call God?” the ayatollah asked now.
Oh goody, another tough question. This wasn’t a time to be flippant. “I’ve met beings who, as our Supreme Pontifex has said, are so powerful compared to us that they’re like gods. But they aren’t. I’ve met the people who influenced our evolution and how we think of God, both good and bad, and they aren’t gods, either.”
It wasn’t enough. Remembered a conversation I’d had with ACE so very long ago now. And what he and Algar both had told me.
“What I know is that God is vast. And God gave us Free Will so that God would not have to do it all. God isn’t one thing, or a man or a woman or a creature. God is too vast for us to understand. But I do know this—all these people who look so different or so similar to us, all these stars with all these planets in just this galaxy alone, all of this life—it didn’t happen just so that we could spend our lives killing each other in the name of whatever part of God we want to claim.”
“Who do you call God?” the ayatollah asked again.
Pondered my response. “Everyone. Everyone is part of God. Even the Aicirtap. Even the Z’porrah. But I don’t call on God to help me. I call on myself and my friends, family, and allies. God isn’t there to help me, to help us. We’re here to help ourselves and each other.”
Once again, the stare-down. This man loved the stare-down. Perhaps, in another part of the multiverse, we were friends and did this for fun. Right now, it was getting on my nerves. But that poker face Chuckie had trained me to put on when needed was doing its job, because I could see myself in the teleprompter and I looked cool, calm, and collected.
“The Lyssara Comb has set down in the landing area between Animas, Hatchet, and Chiricahua Peaks,” Serene shared. The screen split, so there was a shot of me, one of the ayatollah, one of the Heads of State room, one of Alexander, Dew, and the Themnir heading off the cutter finally, and the other half of the screen was given to the Lyssara.
A bunch of giant honeybees walked out of what looked like a hole in their ship. The Comb had a ton of holes, but apparently this one was the exit one. They were all carrying little flags. Little American Centaurion flags. And they were waving them wildly in all four hands, while looking around like tourists at the desert surrounding them.
Couldn’t help it. They looked cute and kin
d of silly. I snorted a little laugh. Got the Inner Hyena under control, but just barely.
The ayatollah noticed, of course. He cocked his head at me. “You wish to laugh? At so serious a time? Why?”
Shrugged. “Because I’m a human and it’s funny. They’re waving the flag that, a day ago, was the biggest concern and scandal my husband’s presidency had to deal with. And now? Now it’s just cute that these aliens who don’t seem to know us all that well,” or who knew us very well, but I chose not to add that, “are waving yesterday’s Flag O’ Controversy with so much excited gusto. Yesterday this would have been a disaster. Today? Today who cares what flag anyone’s waving? What matters is—will we all see tomorrow, flags or no flags?”
The ayatollah did something that shocked the hell out of me. He smiled. “Agreed.” Then he bowed his head to me. “I will follow you. Not as First Lady or Queen Regent. But as yourself. I will follow you and I will tell all those who follow me to do the same.”
Someone else stood up. The Pope. “I will follow you. Not as First Lady or as Queen Regent, but as yourself. And I will tell my flock to do likewise.”
One by one the rest of the room stood up and pledged fealty, while the Lyssara waved their flags and Jeff appeared onscreen now, presumably having gated over to greet the next arrivals. The world’s religious leaders pledged while Jeff hugged, clasped, and did the French greeting with the honeybees. Decided that, despite everything else, I still had the better gig.
At last the religious leaders were done. The screen shifted to give us a half screen of the Heads of State room. They all stood. One who was sitting near Drax spoke. “I speak for everyone here. We, too, will follow you. We accept that our world is changing forever, and we all choose to greet it boldly and with honor.”
The screen shifted to another room. This one looked like it had every head of state for the rest of the African continent. Another screen came up, this one covering Europe and everything around Russia. A third screen showed the rest of North and all of South America’s leadership. And the last showed the rest of Asia—every Pacific Rim country, China, and, interestingly enough, the Australian Prime Minister.