Did that really just happen?
After Ronan’s…. declaration, I had the following gracious reactions: first, my mouth dropped open; then I muttered something about a shower; and then managed to trip over the bar stool on the way out.
Real smooth, I rebuked myself, blushing with humiliation.
But… what is proper protocol when someone you barely know pronounces their love? Most of my knowledge about romance came from movies and books, but I couldn’t think of any of those that dealt with this type of situation.
This situation. What was my situation? Let’s see, I had been basically kidnapped from my home by the CIA, rescued from an involuntary brain surgery, whisked off to who-knows-where, and now an alien says he’s in love with me.
I shut off the water and grabbed a fluffy white towel to wrap myself in. Thankfully there was a bathroom located in my room—right beneath the loft. Thankfully it was stocked with shampoo and soap. But I wasn’t so lucky with the closet—but for linen and blankets, it was bare.
A sudden knock on the door made me jump. “Just a sec,” I called as I grabbed one of the blankets and wrapped myself in it. Even though I was covered from head to toe, I still felt naked as I opened the door. But no one was there. Sitting on the floor was a small white cotton bag. I picked it up and closed the door.
Examining the contents, I found a hairbrush, razors, deodorant, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and body spray. All in the same brands I used at home.
Trying not to think too much about that, I made quick use of the supplies and eventually began feeling more human.
Then it was time to go face Ronan again. I was mortified about my reaction to him.
It’s okay, I thought. He knows you—he knows you’re not usually so… uncouth. Strange that at one moment the thought of his spying on me freaked me out, but then the next, brought comfort.
What on earth was I going to say to him? It was flattering, of course, and he was definitely attractive (to understate it), but…
I didn’t have much experience in the area. This was going to be an incredibly awkward conversation.
I’ll address the issue of his—um, feelings, and then move on to the more important things. Like Where the heck am I? And how am I going to escape the hostile alien beings who were coming after me? Remembering the bigger picture was strangely calming to my nerves—surely unreciprocated love was insignificant next to alien warfare and death threats.
Is it unreciprocated?
The thought hit me out of the blue. Of course it is, I bumbled to myself. I barely know the guy.
But he saved your life, my inner voice challenged. Surely that must win some of your affection.
Affection isn’t love, I disputed.
But it’s a start.
…. It could be a start.
Clothed in a soft cream blanket, I opened the door and went down the hallway toward the kitchen.
The kitchen area was very open and spacious, and there were no barriers between it and the living room, save a tile/carpet border. The living area was furnished in the manner you’d expect from a cabin settled snugly away in the mountains: a large and regal fireplace took center stage, the end tables were made of thick wood and adorned with heavy lamps, and the sofas and armchairs were a deep forest green. It was upon one of these that Ronan was settled.
He had some sort of light gray headpiece that was wound around his temple and when he turned his head at my approach I saw a clear glass visor was positioned in front of his eyes. When he saw me he shook his head slightly then removed the headpiece and set it next to him on the couch.
He gestured toward it. “Our version of a laptop,” he explained. “It responds to brainwaves, which is much faster than a keyboard and mouse.”
“That must be efficient,” I said lightly.
“I was trying to get an update about the Kema’dor. How many there are and their positions, etc.”
“And?” I asked nervously.
“Nothing yet,” he said, sounding discouraged. “One of the reasons we’re up at this elevation is to have as strong a reception as possible with the Solamure’s ship—they’ll have that information about the Kema’dor. But they must be in stealth mode—not taking any incoming calls as it were, so I haven’t been able to access their data.”
“Why would they be in stealth mode?”
“No good reason,” he said grimly. “But I’ll keep trying. In the meantime, we should be safe here. The Solamure have used this location before and have built up the defenses. Plus, being this high will allow us to detect anything that’s coming long before it gets here.”
I nodded and the conversation waned, replaced with an awkward silence.
“So, I wanted— “
“About before— “
We both began at the same time. He smiled a little and said, “Please—go ahead.”
I fiddled with my blanket, making sure it was doing its job, then sat down on one of the chairs across from him.
“I just wanted to apologize—for my—for the way I acted before…. I didn’t really know what to say.”
“Well,” Ronan began with a deep breath, “I just want to be honest with you. You had a reasonable question, and deserved the truth. But… I don’t want you to feel obligated in any way. I make my choices and you make yours. I have no expectations.”
I felt the muscles in my forehead relax a little as he said this. (I wasn’t even aware I was so tense.) Then he added with a half-smile, “Hopes, maybe, but no expectations.”
My stomach flipped and I looked down, suddenly shy. I’m really no good at this--at least not with gorgeous aliens.
“Have you considered that maybe this is just a –I don’t know – side effect of your research, and nothing more? That you would’ve… developed feelings for anyone you were watching? I mean, there’s nothing out of the ordinary about me. You should go walk around my school—you’d see.”
Ronan looked at me seriously. “I have seen around your school. If there’s anything I’ve learned after watching you for three years, it’s that you’re anything but ordinary.”
I started to protest, but he stopped me. “You know what first stood out to me —back when I first started watching you? You were sitting in school and another girl started teasing you about having a dad who teaches. She said that the only reason you do so well in school is because the teachers know him, and that if you were actually graded on your brains, you would never have passed the third grade. At the time you didn’t respond, but you know what you did later? You left her an anonymous note, telling her how much you admired her courage to continue on with school when her parents were going through a bad divorce. You encouraged her to see the school counselor who ended up helping her work through some issues.”
I had completely forgotten about that. I tried to blow it off, but Ronan interrupted me again. “Don’t tell me it was nothing. There aren’t many fourteen year olds who would have reacted that way. Most would have retaliated with insults, or gone home and cried. But instead you tried to understand her, and help her deal with her problems.”
He leaned slightly forward and said intently, “You’re kind, Alex. You’re a kind person in an unkind world.”
I was taken aback. I had never really thought of myself that way. I wondered if…. Was it possible that Ronan knew me better than I knew myself? Nah, I thought, he just sees an outsider’s perspective. He doesn’t really know how much of a mess I am on the inside.
“Well, um, I think it’s a little unfair that you know me so well and I hardly know you at all,” I said.
“Okay,” he said, leaning back. “What would you like to know?”
“Well, first, I guess, how old are you?”
“Eighteen, same as you. Actually I’m three months older.”
“But more extensively traveled,” I say, thinking how I’ve only ever been to four states other than Colorado.
He smiled. “Yes, that’s true.”
Part of me wante
d to know all about his travels, but the other part of me thought it would seem much too unreal. Like Santa—you love everything about him, but the more you learn, the more skeptical you become. But curiosity won.
“What’s space like?”
He took a deep breath and tipped his head upwards slightly. “Awesome—in the literal sense of the world. Planets, stars, comets—they’re so magnificent. English doesn’t have the vocabulary to do them justice…. And endless—totally, completely endless—it just goes on and on and on. Even the Solamure, who are the most advanced civilization I’m aware of, have only mapped a small area, compared to what’s out there. Everything is so full of possibility.”
He sighed. “And I miss having a third dimension to move through—being born in space, my brain is wired for it. The Solamure aren’t really into the whole ‘artificial gravity’ thing, so I grew up floating around.... It took me a while to adjust to Earth; I bumped into things a lot.” He smiled for a moment, then became thoughtful. “But despite all that, for me it was… lonely.”
He paused, introspective for a moment. “The Solamure are very enlightened, and I couldn’t have asked for better teachers. But my human family—my mother and father—they were always much more interested in their research than they were in me.
“On earth, it’s considered praiseworthy to spend time with your children. The Solamure, though, aren’t born into families—not in the same sense. They, essentially, hatch from eggs and there’s not much needed in way of caregiving. I guess that somewhere along the way, the Starsailors sort of became that way too. But I’ve always wished we were more… nurturing toward one another. The Solamure thrive on knowledge, not relationships. But humans—typically—thrive on relationships. My parents, though, are more like the Solamure than I am.”
“Where are your parents? Were they here?”
“No, they found their life’s work on one of the Kepler planets--studying the indigenous botany. They became completely immersed—even obsessed—in discovering the properties of one phylum in particular. They tried to talk me into staying with them and assisting them, but honestly I just don’t have that much passion for plants.” He smiled wistfully.
I didn’t know what to say. His parents gave him up for some plants? “Will you… see them again?”
“We missed our ride, remember?” he said lightly. “The Solamure like to explore. Sometimes they’ll go back to a charted planet, but not until hundreds of years have passed—like they did with earth. So, no. I don’t believe I will ever see my parents again.”
I was dumbfounded. I couldn’t believe Ronan would give up everything—his whole future—just for me. I felt completely unworthy. And he must be completely demented. Suddenly I was a little angry.
“Ronan—why would you—what were you thinking? How could you give up so much—just for me? It’s so stupid! It’s like my friend who graduated last year who instead of taking her full-ride scholarship to college, went to go live with her boyfriend in Arizona. And you know what she’s doing now? She’s working a pretzel store in a mall!”
A little taken aback by my outburst, he said, “I didn’t decide to stay just on emotional impulse. Earth is my heritage, and as exhilarating as starsailing is, I’ve always known I wanted to find a permanent home somewhere. Humans are hardwired that way, I think. Plus,” he added, “the food here is way better than anywhere else.”
I smiled a little.
“You know,” he said, “we should really get you some clothes. I remembered to grab the shampoo and stuff, but I didn’t get the chance to grab anything for you to wear.”
“Oh, um, yeah. That would be nice,” I said, self-consciously adjusting the blanket.
“There’s a small town about forty miles away. I’ll go pick up some clothes for you, and be back before it gets dark.”
Here? Alone? It’s not that I mind being alone, but I was a little concerned about the fact that not only was the CIA after me, but also some hostile alien race. And Ronan would have the vehicle….
“Don’t worry,” he said, seeming to read my thoughts. “This place really is well fortified. And I won’t be gone that long. Is there anything other than clothes you want me to pick up for you?”
“Um,” I thought for a moment, “pepper spray. And M&Ms”
His eyebrows raised a little in surprise, but he said, “Okay, pepper spray and M&Ms it is. I’ll put it on the honey-do list.”
I was about to scold his brazenness but he quickly slipped out the door on the side of the kitchen. Watching out the window as the wide garage door opened and a shiny black Mustang pulled out, I wondered briefly what had happened to the rusty old truck.
Mom used to give Dad a list of random house projects she’d wanted done, which they’d called the “honey-do list”. I realized that my parents’ marriage might be the only couples-relationship Ronan had really seen (at least since his parents left him), then wondered if he idolized that.
He sped down the windy road and out of sight.
Chapter 8
We’ve found them. They’re hiding in the mountains.
move in.
I’m not totally comfortable walking around naked—even by myself in an empty house—so I put on the hospital gown I’d been wearing the day before.
Was it really only yesterday? Things had been happening way too fast.
After making the bed and checking the kitchen’s stock (pancake mix, milk, juice, and a whole lot of canned goods), there wasn’t much to do.
I couldn’t figure out how to get the flat screen TV to work, my phone was gone and obviously I didn’t have a computer.
I began exploring the cabin—it was more spacious than I’d realized. There were three levels—the main floor with the bedrooms, kitchen, living area, etc., an airy but dusty attic, and a dark, oppressive basement.
I eventually found myself in the room that Ronan had slept in; there was a duffel bag on the floor and the bed was sloppily made.
I swear, I’m not usually a snoop. But the guy had left me alone up here with nothing to do—not even a trashy celeb magazine to read. It was easy to rationalize searching his stuff.
He was a light packer—just a change of clothes, a comb, and a pair of tennis shoes. Then I checked the side pocket. That’s where I found the Tarke. It was small and smooth and shaped like a mix between a sphere and a cube. Examining it more closely made me realize that even if I’d wanted to help Nash out and use the Tarke to make the call, I wouldn’t have known how to do it. It was completely devoid of any sort of button or crevice.
“Oh well,” I muttered and carefully replaced Ronan’s belongings back into the bag.
I wandered back out into the living room and noticed the weird headset-thingy Ronan had been wearing earlier. He’d called it his “version of a laptop”.
Why not? I thought as I sat down on the couch and strapped the device around my head. The visor lit up in front of me and I saw a colorful display with unusual characters that must’ve had some sort of meaning, but I didn’t understand it.
Hello Alex a voice said.
“Agh!” I yelled and nearly ripped the whole contraption off. Not because the—thing—knew my name, but because it had spoken inside my head.
It’s called neural communication, the voice very clearly said. Or, NeuralCom for short. The receptors respond to the brainwaves you emit and the transmitters respond with information.
“How eerie,” I thought.
It’s science, came the reply. There has been a message left for you and Ronan from the Solamure ship: the Kema’dor have located you. They will be arriving in 2.44 minutes.
“What?!” I exploded, jumping up.
The Kema’dor have located you. They will be arriving in 2.39 minutes.
“No—I know what you said, I just—2 minutes?”
2.21 minutes.
How did Ronan put up with this thing?
Ronan is fully aware of the benefits of neural communic—
“Shut u
p!” I yelled. Crap—what was I going to do?
If you wish to avoid confronting the Kema’dor, the logical course of action would be to conceal yourself the bunker.
“The bunker—right!” I thought. “Where is the bunker?”
Hidden in the basement of this building. I can guide you. The visor’s screen suddenly went clear.
I paused for a moment to grab a large stainless steel butcher knife from the kitchen’s large cutlery supply, and dashed to the staircase that led to the basement.
A knife would be inadequate defense against the Kema’dor, the voice informed.
I pretty much figured that, but I wasn’t about to face them completely unarmed. That was the reason I’d requested the pepper spray.
Pepper spray would be an inadequate def—
“Stop it!” I thought. Just show me where this bunker is.
Suddenly the screen lit up again with flashing red arrows pointing down the hall and to the left. It was like GPS for the basement.
After a couple of turns, the arrows suddenly pointed to the right, straight at a blank wall.
“Now what?” I thought.
Place your hand on the wall. A concealed palm scanner has been built in.
I switched the knife to my left hand and put my right palm on the wall thinking there was no way this would work.
The necessary information has been transmitted, the voice said and suddenly a door-sized section of the wall began to slide up, like a garage door but without all the noise. Inside was a brightly lit staircase leading downward.
.78 minutes.
I rushed down the stairs and the screen in front of me cleared. I glanced back to see the door closing behind me. Once it was sealed, I paused for a moment.
“What about Ronan?” I thought. “Does he know?”
Ronan was given the message as soon as it was sent—even before you. He keeps a small communication device with him. He was just informed that you are in the bunker and wishes to speak with you.
“Okay,” I said aloud. Then the screen was suddenly filled with Ronan’s handsome but worried face.
Understanding the Stars Page 5