I took a sip of my coffee--- Cold. Bleah! “Excuse me; I need to heat this.” I headed for the microwave oven in the kitchen, leaving them to chatter at each other. A minute later I strolled back into the den and plopped myself back into the warm leather embrace of my old recliner. “Comments? Questions? Observations?” Oh yeah!
L’raan had gotten her breathing back under control, but her grandmother was the first to give voice to a coherent question, and, quite frankly, it surprised me. “Your people have done amazing---and disturbing---research, and appear to have reached conclusions that are, in a word…terrifying.” She paused, her expression unreadable. “But isn’t it possible that, based on these observations, you may be overlooking something? Something closer to home, perhaps? Something deep within your own ranks?” She tilted her head for a moment, but in this case I didn’t believe she was confused.
“What if,” she began, “there existed a group or faction within humankind that didn’t want anything to do with ‘aliens’ and all the turmoil contact with non-humans generates? Don’t you think it’s possible that all this could be orchestrated by malcontents, possibly just a small number, who, working with Yularian malcontents---and I know such exist within our people---are striving to sabotage relations between Yularians and humans?” Hmmm… “What you told the Yularian embassy the night you and L’raan were attacked by the military kill-bots---that if it happened again you’d see that all Yularians were permanently expelled from Earth---might be exactly what these malcontents want to achieve!”
I had to admit, I hadn’t thought of it quite that way. I, along with governmental and military minds far brighter than mine, had been chasing the concept of either a Yularian or other alien source for this, but so far we hadn’t been able to quite knit it together. This definitely merited further study, and I suddenly said, “Bertha! Please transmit the good Doctor’s observations to Art, along with my strongest suggestion that he pass it to the appropriate people.” The two Yularians’ jaws hung open in shock. Apparently they did not expect that kind of reaction.
“Done as I speak, Tom,” the machine replied. Then it added, “And if I might comment, I fully agree with Doctor N’looma. To my knowledge this interesting theory has not been considered.”
Huh? My little AI was privy to that kind of top secret data? And it has the cognitive power to declare the theory “interesting”---? A momentary chill ran down my spine. Just what type of “update” had Art’s technician performed on my security system?
The three of us sat in uneasy silence for what seemed like an eternity; probably no more than a minute. Then L’raan hesitantly said, “You still have not answered my question, Tom, and as time passes I am becoming more fearful of what you may say.”
I must have looked puzzled because she carefully repeated the question. “Should I fear you, or should my people fear humanity?”
With the weight of her grandmother’s---and my AI’s---observations perched like a vulture on my shoulders I replied, “I…I can’t speak for my people; not like I thought I could. B’naah’s idea just added a major uncertainty factor to the problem, and what I was confident about a few moments ago---” I closed my eyes and shook my head. Then I looked directly at the two frightened vixens. “But I’ll make you this promise, and it comes from the heart: Whatever happens, however this plays out, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. I’ve trusted you both with my life time and time again; you, B’naah, with my medical care, and you, L’raan, when I slept with you by my side. At any time in the past either of you could have killed me, and no doubt you’ll have plenty of opportunities to do so in the future.” I paused for a moment before continuing. “Regardless of what you think of me, I…I’ve become quite fond of you both, and should it come down to crunch time, Death himself will have to go through me to…to claim you.”
Rising from my chair I stepped around the coffee table and knelt in front of the seated wide-eyed aliens. “This I guarantee with the offer of my life,” and I leaned slightly forward, closed my eyes and tilted my head back as far as it would go---and presented them my throat.
And prayed hard that I hadn’t misjudged them.
My ears caught sharp, hissing intakes of breath, and after a few tense moments I caught a faint trace of L’raan’s breath and--- Jesus! Teeth! Sharp teeth on my neck! I tried not to flinch, and instantly steeled myself not to draw away. If I was about to die, then so be it. But the teeth didn’t break the skin, and they quickly drew away---to be replaced by another set of teeth, not quite so sharp, and “attacking” my neck from a different angle. From the change in scent I knew that B’naah was now “at my throat”, but like her granddaughter, she merely made contact and then quickly drew away. I could still smell their combined breaths (thankfully not the stomach-turning reek of “doggie breath”) hot and close, and I slowly lowered my head and opened my eyes…to find both females’ muzzles very close.
Perhaps opening my eyes was the catalyst, because they pounced on me---and began licking my face, seemingly in desperation. Either they liked the taste of human flesh…or they really liked me.
Somehow I didn’t think L’raan would be asking that disturbing question again.
Chapter 14
…Can Also Liberate
They latched onto me and apparently didn’t want to let go. I was clean-shaven, but their long, rough tongues were beginning to irritate my cheeks and neck, so I had to---gently---put an end to their affectionate canid “kisses”.
“Please, girls,” I implored, “I love you, too, but you’re beginning to embarrass both Bertha and the termites!” After a few more licks they giggled (an amazing sound coming from such incredible creatures) and pulled away, and I quickly got to my feet before they could do anything more…controversial. “We’ve got a lot of planning to do if we want to still be alive when this mystery is solved.” That seemed to sober them up a bit, and it also helped redirect my thoughts toward more productive matters.
“Let’s go outside and let the fresh air blow some of this gloom and doom away,” I stated with perhaps a touch more enthusiasm than necessary, but as I headed toward the front door I was pleased to see that they were off the couch and following me. It wasn’t yet midday, and the seasonally hot, humid Florida air hadn’t quite reached an unbearable temperature, but from the looks of the brilliant sky we’d soon be huddled once again in the welcome air conditioned shelter of my house. “Enjoy the day while you can,” I told them as we strolled into the front yard. “And B’naah, be sure and let me know if you pick up any fleas. That special fur shampoo you used yesterday is supposed to repel parasites, but if it doesn’t work we might have to give you an old-fashioned flea dip.”
The elderly Yularian cocked her head my way, then peered at L’raan. “What,” she ventured with a sharp tone to her voice, “are ‘fleas’, and why do I need to be concerned about them?”
Her granddaughter yipped a laugh, saying, “Fleas are tiny blood-sucking vermin that plague most fur-bearing Earth creatures. I discovered them---or I should say they discovered me---several days ago, but we also discovered that they didn’t like the smell of something in your shampoo, and so far I’ve only had one bite me; the rest of them quickly abandoned my young, tender body for an easier meal.” She brushed at the senior vixen’s furry arm and added, “I seriously doubt that your tough old hide would be more appealing to them.”
B’naah slapped L’raan’s hand away, snarling, “Primitive worlds and their equally-primitive societies are often overrun with---” Then she paused her venomous tirade and looked at me with an expression I couldn’t fathom. Taking a deep breath before slowly exhaling it, she offered, “Please forgive me, Thomas. From what little I’ve seen of your world, I do find it to be refreshingly young, with much unspoiled beauty. Our own world was tamed ages ago, and while we have serene parklands, there is, sadly, nothing left of it that is truly ‘wild’. Your people, as well, have a raw, untamed ‘wildness’ to them…unlike our own homogenized spec
ies, which has become, like me, too bitter and cynical for our own good.”
“Enough of that!” I exclaimed, hoping to break the sudden melancholy mood. Taking a chance I threw an arm around each vixen’s shoulders and drew a surprised female to each side---and began walking. “The day’s still young, and despite our enemy’s best efforts we’re still alive an’ kickin’, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let ‘em get me down!” We headed towards one of the big oak trees on the opposite side of the garage, and I stated, “Bertha tells me there’s a squirrel nest up there, and if we’re lucky we’ll catch a glimpse of the brainless little tree rats. If they can’t make us smile, then there’s no hope for us.”
True to form, a few of the gray and white rodents were “in residence”, leaping from branch to branch and skittering around the thick trunk of the old tree. There’s an instinctual dislike of squirrels for canids---foxes included---and the little varmints quickly scoped out the two Yularians as targets for their outrage, and their barking, chattering racket soon began. “Wouldn’t you like to know what kind of insults they’re heaping on us?” I asked.
Both vixens were staring at the upset rodents, their jaws hanging open slightly. Finally L’raan ventured, “I think I’d be happy simply knowing what they taste like.” I laughed, but I think she was dead serious.
We taunted and teased the squirrels---or they taunted and teased us; it was hard to tell---for a good ten minutes before one of Bertha’s ever-present spiders suddenly declared: “I hate to spoil your fun, but I strongly suggest you three head for the safety of the house now.” Huh? Before I could ask the obvious question the ugly little machine’s speaker blared, drowning out a faint click in my head. “We have a potentially hostile aircraft heading this way at supersonic speed, and I predict it will be here within one minute! Go now!”
We went now!
I didn’t worry about L’raan being able to sprint to the house, but B’naah was old---very old---and she hadn’t taken more than three aged-but-hurried steps when I swept her up in my arms and ran like Hell’s hounds were nipping at my ass. She started to protest but I snarled, “Shaddup and hang on!” and to her credit she did just that. She was old and cantankerous, but she certainly wasn’t dumb.
We pounded into the front porch and into the door like a trio of kids late for dinner, and it wasn’t a moment too soon. A god-awful sonic boom rattled the house and L’raan and I made a quick sweep of the house, making sure all the windows and doors were secure. Bertha announced that she’d activated all her security measures, and then we heard the distinctive thrum of a Yularian atmosphere flier as it settled down in my large front yard, on the solid, clean driveway pavers where the Army helicopter had touched down days earlier. That machine had been welcome; this one was anything but.
“H-how---” I wheezed, “did you know---” Cough-cough! “that thing was coming?” I was in great physical shape, but I’d never in my life done an all-out fifty yard dash while carrying a hundred-pound sack of potatoes, especially when I thought mine and the potato sack’s lives might depend on me winning the race.
“During my upgrade a long-range sensor array was installed on the cell phone tower down the road,” the machine reminded me. “I didn’t alert you until I was certain that the intruder didn’t have a radar signature of anything flown by humans, and that it was on course to pass over this exact location.”
Not just “sensors”, but long-range radar? What the hell else had Bertha not told me about?
“A Yularian male has exited the flier,” the AI abruptly stated, “and he appears to be wearing the neck ribbon and pendant of an ambassador. He is calling out for you, Tom. Apparently he wishes to talk.” Ya think? Somehow I didn’t think he was selling Avon or giving away religious tracts.
“If you have a spider outside,” I stated, “tell him I’ll be out momentarily.” The AI did, and during that time I ducked into my bedroom and grabbed my .45 autopistol, tucking it prominently into the waistband of my denim shorts.
“In your nightstand drawer is a new, special earpiece,” the machine said while I was settling the lumpy gun comfortably, “and it will let me hear what you hear, as well as pass on information to you discretely.” Shit! Another new toy. “It’s small enough to fit entirely into your right ear canal.” Yep, there it was, and it slipped into my ear like it had been custom designed---which, I suddenly realized, it had been.
Returning to the front of the house I told the two nervous vixens, “Wait in my bedroom. It’s the most secure place in the house, and you can watch what’s going on via Bertha’s security control panel screen. I’m going out to see who this twit is and what he wants.”
“Art has been notified,” the AI interrupted, “and is scrambling fighters and support units. ETA, however, is at least thirty minutes.”
“Yeah,” I grumbled, “that could also be a good twenty nine minutes too late.” The vixens argued vehemently against me going outside, but I countered with, “If I don’t go out and at least talk with him, he could possibly just blast the house, and we’d all be dead. Maybe this way I can buy us some time until the cavalry arrives.”
So out the front door I went, wondering if this would be the dumbest---and last---thing I’d ever get a chance to do.
Sitting in the middle of the driveway was an alien aircraft that was both beautiful and yet gut-wrenching scary. The Yularian atmosphere flier had the look of a sleek European helicopter---without the rotors---and with some ominous lumps and bumps that I figured were weapon pods. Bertha, seeming to read my mind, whispered in my ear that the lumps and bumps were, indeed, weapon pods---very potent weapon pods. But what was most disturbing to me was the presence of the lone male Yularian standing near the open access hatch/ladder near the front of the machine. He was decked out in standard-issue black shorts, canid sandals and a vest, but he was also sporting an official-looking ambassador-type neck ribbon and medallion---and he carried a ceremonial walking stick! The sight of an anthropomorphic fox with a walking stick hit my tickle button, and it was all I could do to keep from breaking into a fit of giggles---since doing so, I feared, would probably have precipitated a war.
I stood at the top of my porch steps, my arms folded across my chest and scowling in the most belligerent pose I could manage, hoping the insult wasn’t wasted on the alien. I also hoped he was far enough away not to be able to smell my fear.
“I am Ambassador D’naad,” the Yularian stated when he realized I wasn’t going to initiate the conversation. “Are you Thomas Barnes?”
“I am,” I snarled, “and I demand to know why you’ve insulted me by invading my property and violating my privacy.” Bertha immediately began murmuring into my ear, and I tried not to let my surprise show.
Apparently my belligerence was not what the ambassador expected, since I saw his eyes widen as he unconsciously took a half-step backwards. After a strained moment he said, “I…I certainly meant you no offense, Mister Barnes, and---” He paused, then took another half-step backwards. “Is…is that a weapon you have near your mid-section?”
Without even gesturing toward the .45 pistol or the far-more-lethal brace of Bertha’s spiders on either side of my feet I said, “Since you’re trespassing on my property with an armed flier, I thought it only proper to greet you equally prepared.”
His jaw fell open and he sputtered indignantly, “I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mister Barnes! There are no weapons in my flier; I’m a diplomat!”
“Perhaps you should ask your pilot about that, Mister Ambassador. Go ahead; I’m willing to wait while you do so.” The Yularian seemed highly insulted as he swung around to bark questions into the open door of the flier---questions barked in Yularian but questions I also easily understood. Moments later he got answers I couldn’t hear, but that he obviously hadn’t expected, and after an exceptionally heated exchange with the pilot---something I’m also sure I wasn’t supposed to overhear or understand---he turned back to me with an entirely different deme
anor.
He was humble!
Moving in a head-down, tail-down manner I’d seen L’raan do when she begged to sleep in my room, the ambassador began to hesitantly approach me, saying, “I have both dishonored and disgraced myself, Mister Thomas Barnes, and…and I most sincerely b-beg your forgiveness for the multiple insults I’ve unwittingly heaped upon you.”
“Stop right there,” I commanded when he was half-way between his flier and my porch. He did, but he also appeared puzzled.
“But---how c-can I properly beg your forgiveness from this distance?”
Thinking fast, I growled, “I will not accept the offer of your throat, Ambassador D’naad; not today, and certainly not without you explaining why you’ve staged this…armed invasion. Especially after I told your embassy that the matter of your assaults upon my guests and me were not open to discussion!”
If an adult, intelligent being could look like a cowed, whipped dog, the ambassador was a perfect poster child. He cringed and hunkered nearly to the ground, his ears flat and eyes downcast. I wasn’t buying it.
“Stand up!” I barked in Yularian, although it hurt my throat to do so, but it got the desired results. He literally bounced to attention, his eyes about to pop out of his head in shock. I was afraid he’d pee his pants. In English I continued, “My patience is running out, Mister Ambassador, so you’d better start talking---now---and the first thing out of your mouth had better be why you are here instead of Ambassador B’diik.”
He talked. In fact he talked so much I wondered at times if he’d ever shut up.
“M-mister Barnes, Ambassador B’diik and much of the staff in our J-jacksonville embassy were r-recalled the day after you and your observer arrived from our home world.” He looked uncomfortable standing in the hot sun, but I wasn’t just about to let him closer. Not yet, anyway. “I and replacement personnel were immediately d-dispatched to replace them, and w-we arrived late last night.” Moments earlier Bertha had whispered in my ear about him not being the ambassador-of-record in the local embassy, and she quickly confirmed his latest statement. I allowed myself to relax all of one percent. “Before we left the home world we were only told there had been an ‘incident’ here, and when we arrived last night we were so weary---some of us ill---we failed to avail ourselves of the details of the recall. T-this morning I…I again failed to fully avail my new staff of all facets of the…the ‘incident’, and---” Like a wind-up doll, the ambassador seemed to simply run down. I allowed myself a shred of pity for him, and after glaring at him for a long moment I tossed the poor, hot dog a bone.
Last Dance of the Phoenix Page 12