by Jason Parent
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Allison sat on a velvety divan in a White House meeting room. Paintings by famous artists hung precisely about the room. A portrait of a former President hung against the far wall—William Howard Taft, she thought, judging by the man’s size. She remembered hearing somewhere that he was a large fellow.
On the floor and against the walls rested over a dozen pieces of fine, ornate furniture, some of which appeared to suit no practical purpose. Being of an older vintage, the pieces gave the room a quality of rustic class, not an overly gaudy display of wealth, but a display of wealth all the same.
Allison hated it. She came from wealth, but she still appreciated the value of a dollar. The overt luxury spat in the face of the growing deficit. She felt pretentious in her oversized lodging. All of it was hers, at least for the next three and a half years.
Across from Allison sat a man in his late forties with silvery hair, a strong jaw and an easy smile. Smoke permeated the air around him, rising from the fat stogie clenched between his teeth. Allison could hardly stomach its wretched smell, ranking it only slightly below an overflowing cesspool on her list of foulest odors. But she forgave him his vice, a small price to pay for Vice President Cameron Stowe’s frank counsel.
“Are you sure this isn’t some elaborate hoax?” Cameron asked between puffs of what Allison suspected was an illegal Cuban. “I mean, it sure sounds like a hoax.”
“We set up a live video feed at the campsite,” Allison said. “NASA vetted them thoroughly. I’ve seen what they can do. It’s scary, but at the same time, it’s incredible. They’re either what they say they are, or they belong in Vegas.”
“So, aliens then? Christ, I’m away for a week, and the whole world changes.”
Allison was barely paying attention. Her mind was on the task before her. Aliens. They’re actually aliens. Why was it so hard for her to even think the word without feeling silly? Their extraterrestrial natures had been confirmed a hundred times over by NASA’s top minds. Elements found on their strange garments and near their ship were noticeably absent from the periodic table, not to mention the uniqueness of the ship itself. And their abilities. A shiver ran down her spine. The aliens’ strange powers were awe-inspiring, but that wasn’t all they inspired.
Her Cabinet, to a man, had advised her to keep her distance. Her friends and family concurred. But Cameron shared her ambition. He’ll understand, won’t he?
“I’m going through with it,” she said.
“It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind,” Cameron replied, a cocky smile across his lips. “But if that were true, you wouldn’t have called me in here.”
Allison had to smile. Her Vice President knew her too well. To be the first to introduce the real deal to her American public, the first to form an allegiance with travelers from another world—it was the opportunity she’d been waiting for, an event to mark her presidency in the annals of history. Being the second female President wasn’t worth the miniscule hype she received from it while campaigning. She needed her own claim to fame, and she would have it televised for all the world to see.
She would risk everything for her moment. “Cameron, I have to do this.”
“It could be dangerous, humiliating or both.” Cameron sounded genuinely concerned for his running mate. “I don’t need to tell you how you’ll look if you’re being pranked. It’ll be far worse than misspelling potato.”
“I know.” Allison looked down at her hands. Cameron was more than just a political ally. He was a trusted friend who was looking out for her. She shook off her worry. “Good thing I don’t have a chance for another term.”
“How is it that they know how to speak English?”
“It was suggested to me that they could read our minds… or more like learn our minds, I suppose.”
“That sounds like science-fiction mumbo jumbo. Shouldn’t we be setting up some kind of alien task force?”
“Secret Service is going to be quadrupled. The military will be on standby.”
Cameron frowned. A rare look of severity clouded his face. “But if what you’re saying is true, then won’t we have a national security disaster on our hands if they meet you? They will know all our nation’s secrets.” He paused, laying his cigar in an ashtray. “Humph, they’d be useful spies to have on our side.” He dusted ash from his clothes, then looked her in the eyes, his gaze heavier than gravity. “Are you sure you don’t want me to do this?”
“Thanks, Cameron.” Allison deeply appreciated his sentiment. It was a rare quality from any politician, even one from her own political party. “Let’s assume everything is on the up-and-up, that aliens have landed on our planet and want to meet with me to foster intergalactic peace.” Allison laughed, the possibility still sounding unbelievable to her despite her knowing it to be true.
She shook her head. “How can I decline? I will be the first person to speak to them, to welcome them, to form a bond between our species. My popularity rating will soar through the roof, and I will forever be remembered for it. Surely, I don’t want the trade embargo with Algeria to be my legacy.”
“All the more reason to let me do it,” Cameron said. He laughed emphatically, more so than his joke warranted. “You’ve already gotten two terms. Let me share the spotlight.”
“No chance in Hell.” Allison laughed along with him. “If you want my job so badly, there’s two ways for you to get it. Run and get elected, or what’s that expression? You’re already a ‘heartbeat away from the presidency.’”
Cameron went silent. All humor left him. His laughter was something Allison could usually count on, but instead, he showed her his serious side for the second time in one day.
“That’s nothing to joke about. Allison, those ‘Martians’ should be considered extremely dangerous. Promise me you’ll be smart about this. It’s not too late to use a double. In fact, we already know that they are dangerous.”
“Oh, lighten up, Cameron,” Allison said, smirking. “You look your age when you get all grave like that. And no one calls them ‘Martians’ anymore. They’re not even from Mars. There are only four of them, and they’re armed with the most primitive weapons. What harm could they possibly do to me?”
“They turned two men into this!” Cameron stirred the ashes in the tray with his fingertip.
“Direct contact with their skin is prohibited.”
“I hope you’ve told them that.” Cameron sighed. “There’s no talking you out of this?”
“No. Sorry. Being the boss has its privileges. I’ll be okay.”
“I hope those aren’t famous last words.”
Allison knew the facts. She understood the risks. She had been informed that the alien leader had vaporized one of her country’s soldiers. According to the human who made first contact, it was the alien’s second kill. However, she understood that the first kill had been accidental and the second came after severe provocation. Surely there’d be no need for a third?
Allison had no intention of being disintegrated. She was rather fond of her corporeal self. She had a nation to lead and a child to raise. She would do nothing to provoke them. The aliens shouldn’t be introduced by a lower-level staff member while she hid away in an underground bunker. It was her moment, her time to shine.
Besides, if Allison failed to negotiate peace with the aliens and something were to go terribly wrong, she was confident in Cameron’s ability to lead. Having served in the military himself, Cameron was a natural leader, one she believed more suited to a wartime presidency than herself.
The more difficult question she faced was how to pardon the aliens for killing two people. Media control and reparations would be necessary to deal with the officer and soldier’s families and to influence the public at large.
But pardon the aliens she certainly would. The alternative could mean all-out war against an unknown enemy. Who knew how many aliens were lurking above, cloaked by the darkness of space, waiting for a signal from their Earth-b
ound brethren? Who knew how many of them were already here?
Cameron cleared his throat. “Be careful. If not for your own sake, then for Cheyenne’s… or mine. God knows what would happen to this country with me holding the reins.” He stood to leave. “I’m here if you need any advice, if you change your mind or for whatever else you may need.”
Allison got up to say goodbye. Cameron’s uncharacteristic severity spread his doubt to her, which was likely his intent. She shook his hand and smiled warmly. He left.
Long after Cameron had gone, Allison sat on that plush couch, pondering the meeting she had scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. Just in case, I’d better call Cheyenne. Lifting her phone from the end table beside her, Allison dialed her daughter’s number, if for no other reason than to tell her she loved her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The empty glass floated through the air from the limousine’s bar to the cup holder near her. Tryst looked up to see Connor watching it too, a look of wonder on his face. She knew that feeling building inside her chest was excitement, a human emotion, but she also felt a surge of triumph from mastering the new ability.
The two federal agents in the front seat kept watch, never showing their thoughts, but she knew they were equally impressed, even if it was mixed with alarm. Connor also kept his distance, and she knew why. An accident, maybe even a pothole, could send bodies flailing and landing atop one another. The smallest brush of her skin against his meant no more Connor. She couldn’t stomach the smell of burning flesh and hair. It reminded her of the officer’s death back in the woods.
Despite the humans’ own discomfort, Tryst was finding it surprisingly easy to be comfortable with them and her foreign surroundings. This new world wasn’t perfect, but in it, she saw something good, warmth that her home, with all its heat, could never equal. With every human she met, Tryst learned more about Earth and its unique ideals. Culture shock never set in; as soon as she learned all that a new acquaintance had to offer, she assimilated the human’s memories into her own. All sorts of memories—whether happy, sad, or even terrifying—brought with them unimaginable knowledge and overwhelming sentiment. Humans had such diverse emotions, often complex and conflicting. Still, concepts she had never experienced before instantly made sense to her. Although it put her at ease, it saddened Tryst that the mysteries of this unexplored planet were so quickly demystified.
Her new abilities, however, remained a mystery. Humans didn’t understand them. Symorians back home weren’t able to perform them. Neither civilization had any true understanding of telepathy or telekinesis, at least not to the degree they all now seemed capable, beyond fiction and legend. Her significantly enhanced powers were one mystery she would have to debunk herself.
Tryst wondered how large an object she could move with her mind alone. Would her abilities increase with practice or fade with age? Were other skills waiting to be realized? Even with a million questions, she was content. Her home was probably gone, her friends and family likely dead, but she was at peace, if but for the moment, excited by the infinite possibilities of a new home.
Home? It seemed premature to call Earth that. She slid across the leather seat toward Lenyx. She searched his face for any sign of emotion, any indication of what was transpiring in that over-analytical mind of his. He seemed lost in thought, always so serious, never appreciating the moment.
Lenyx gave her a smile. She smiled back. Perhaps they were home.
By the door, Kazi fidgeted with the power window, repeatedly raising and lowering it a half-inch. Tryst found the clacking irritating, but not enough to say something. His attention was focused on the cars outside. Tryst could see his eyes follow every vehicle they passed. He looked suspicious of them, wincing each time the limo came close to one. He cringed when they passed a bus full of tourists that got off the same exit, heading to Washington, D.C.
He can’t be reading all their minds at once, can he? She stared at him more closely. That must be excruciating. She didn’t understand his blatant distrust for the humans, but she had known him long enough to know that distrust was part of his nature. She left him alone.
Milliken sat opposite Tryst. He seemed content to fidget with an all-purpose remote control. He flipped through radio stations and television channels simultaneously, while adjusting the lighting and air temperature.
Tryst laughed at his childlike awe. He lacked the discipline to play with one control at a time. Still, it made her happy to see him happy, when not too long ago, he was dead. The federal agents didn’t react to the divider window opening and closing behind them or the sometimes-deafening music.
Concentrating, Tryst floated an ice pail containing a bottle of champagne in front of her. She clapped in excitement as she was able to remove the paper seal and cork just by thinking it through. The cork came out with a loud pop.
“Kazi!” Lenyx shouted. The champagne bottle fell to the floor, the alcohol spilling and forming a puddle. The clamor aroused Kazi from his thoughts. He stared at Lenyx.
“What did I tell you about that?” Lenyx asked in his native tongue. “It frightens the humans.”
“And your talking in Symorian doesn’t?” Kazi said in English. His lack of respect for the chain of command brought out the iciest glare from Lenyx, who was not usually so easily provoked. The stress of command was wearing on him. She could see it in his posture—somehow less tall, less sturdy. Still, Kazi wasn’t to blame for the impromptu magic show and resulting mess.
“Sorry,” she said, interrupting before the tension between them erupted. “It was me, not Kazi.”
“Well, stop,” Lenyx said, still aggravated.
She sat still with her hands folded over her knees for the remainder of the ride. Patience had never been her forte, but she bore the boredom as best she could. Back home, she was always training, always working. Life was hard: there was no such thing as downtime.
It was a nine-hour ride from Second Connecticut Lake to the Capitol. She was aware that she was being treated somewhat lavishly, a limousine ride with all the trappings while being secreted toward an undisclosed location. It was as though she were an important foreign diplomat, where back home, she was just a pilot. And tomorrow, she’d meet the President.
Tryst didn’t care for the anxiety that notion brought with it. She supposed she should be excited, but part of her already wished she was back at the lake, exploring the planet on her own terms with Lenyx, Milliken, Kazi, and maybe even Connor. Too many humans with their fancy titles and contradictory ideals just made things more complicated. Lieutenant Westfield had followed orders and released them from his custody into the Secret Service’s protection. Why, then, did she still feel like a prisoner?
The feeling of captivity increased as they unloaded their limited belongings and were herded through dark passageways like lambs to the slaughter. The stone walls beside her were cold and weeping. We’re heading underground. A bunker?
Garbed in a trench coat, bug-eyed sunglasses, and a ridiculous fedora, Tryst felt alienated, cartoonish. The strange clothes may have been typical human garments, but their loose-fitting flimsiness made her feel vulnerable.
Her instructions were to keep herself secreted until her meeting with the President. Those instructions came from the humans, and Tryst didn’t take her orders from them. But Lenyx was operating on these orders, so she would too.
Why had Lenyx agreed to such an arrangement? Symoria was a borderless community. It lacked doors or walls; everyone had the freedom to be wherever they saw fit. She didn’t know shame until she learned it from the humans, and she hated the way it felt. But it paled in comparison to the nauseating feeling of confinement. And before a few days ago, she had lived in a cave.
Wherever she turned, Tryst could feel the humans watching. There was always an agent in front of them and always one behind, right up to the moment Milliken closed the door to their final destination: a suite decked out better than any at the Ritz-Carlton, probably some Presidential hideaway wh
en the White House was under threat of attack. Even there, Connor remained with them. She didn’t know what to make of him yet. He seemed okay… for a human.
When the suite door closed, she finally felt like she could breathe again. She was still walled in, but the walls seemed to stop constricting.
An agent locked the door from the outside. Tryst dropped her things, walked over to the door, and peeked through the eyehole. Two suits were posted, one on each side of the door, their images contorted into banana shapes by the lens. The feeling of captivity stayed with her.
“Is everything all right?” an agent asked through the door. Somehow, he knew she was there.
Who’s watching who? “We’re okay. Thank you.” Tryst backed away slowly. “I don’t like this.” She crept over to Lenyx, who stood cross-armed in the center of the room as if he were its guardian. He was tall, strong and wise, but he didn’t seem to have any notion of peril. Doesn’t he know he’s a prisoner, too?
“None of us could have imagined that a world like this existed,” he said, his voice quiet. “It’s overwhelming to all of us. Though I would never have said it aloud, I didn’t think we’d find anything.”
“We shouldn’t be here.” She pulled him closer and rested her head against his chest. “Something doesn’t feel right. Don’t you see the way they look at us? Haven’t you heard their thoughts?”
“We’re guests, Tryst. We have to do things their way. Besides, they aren’t exactly pretty to us either, bulbous and loose the way they are. We need to establish goodwill. Meeting with the President tomorrow should prove advantageous.”
“They fear us, every one of them. I don’t even have to read their minds to see that.”
“They are rather loathsome creatures, aren’t they?” Kazi asked. Tryst hadn’t known he was listening.
Lenyx straightened. “We’ll need to take every precaution tomorrow. Everyone must be fully garbed, gloves included. Kazi, I’m trusting you with this task. Scan the spare uniforms for flaws. Every part of us should be covered except our faces. I’m assuming the humans will want to see those despite how terrifying they may find us.”