by S E Anderson
“So, what you’re saying is that it took less than two months to find yourself a replacement for me?”
“No, of course not,” Zander sputtered. “She only dressed up as you so the Killians would take us seriously.”
“She dressed up like me?” Blayde spat. “For what? Veesh. Killians are passive, Zander. What kind of a game are you playing here?”
“They're pissed at Earth, and that's not the issue here anyway. I didn't go out to replace you. Let me get some stuff in order, and we'll be off. Okay?”
“We can't. Not yet.” All signs of fury dissolved from her face. Calm and serenity had returned at last. “We've got business to attend to.”
She grinned the Grinchiest grin. I shuddered, but Zander didn't look shaken. He almost looked excited.
“Really?” he asked. “Where?”
“That plant of yours is hiding something. I'm certain of it.”
“That wasn't a ploy earlier?” I asked. “You weren't using that to get in and look for Zander?”
“Look for Zander?” the woman scoffed. “I had no idea he was working there. That really was me looking for answers. I've been on this dump of a planet for two or three days—found myself in some place called Texas.” She spat the name, as if it were bitter. “I checked my phone, found your message, and hopped on a plane to wherever we are now. Then I heard about the plant and got distracted. I wondered if you Terrans—see Zander, I can be polite—had the brain cells to reach the next stage in development. The more I heard about it, the more I grew concerned, so I got myself a costume and went on a little adventure.”
“And?” Zander asked, “Did you find anything?”
“Of course I did.” She grinned. “I know a shifty business enterprise when I see one. Then there's the fact that Grisham isn't human, so, of course, you have ulterior motives and—”
“My boss is an alien?” I slapped the steering wheel. “Well, of course, who in my life isn't from outer space?”
“Marcy, probably.” Zander chuckled, but his smile faded when he saw my expression. “Sally, it's normal. Loads of people on this planet aren't actually from it.”
“Have you seen this place?” Blayde scoffed. “It's so … outback. Middle of nowhere. It's hard to believe you lot got around to inventing computers. Of course you have off-worlders living here. It's out of the way.”
“How many?”
She shrugged. “No idea, but I don't see you complaining about the fact that your roommate is one of them. But that's beside the point, your extraterrestrial—that's what kids are calling them these days, right? Your boss is running a shady business, and none of you even noticed?”
She waited for a response, but got none. A smile crept on her lips; she liked showing off.
“I talked to a few people today,” she explained, “and let me guess, your interviews consisted of Grisham looking you up online, placing a few calls, telling you about your potential, and practically throwing money at you?” She looked at Zander, then at me, then back at Zander again, a smirk growing on her tight lips. “And neither of you found this weird?”
I sighed. “Unconventional methods don't mean he's from a different planet.”
Zander shrugged. “I was investigating the place as well, you know.”
“Wait, what?” I said.
She didn't seem to care. “Have either of you seen the manual workforce? A single worker? Have you met one? Find it weird they were hired before anyone else? That they never come in or out? That you're all sworn to secrecy? And here's the kicker; didn't either of you find it strange that anyone would hire Zander as an accountant?”
“Exactly. I just waltzed in,” he said, “And as I was saying, I only did it so I could investigate.”
“Brother of mine, I got further in a few hours than you have in two months,” she scoffed.
“I was playing a long game,” he muttered.
“And the desk thing?” I asked. “You said something about his desk, and he was livid. What's up with that?”
“The wood is from a Lithorn tree,” she said. “They only grow on the sixth planet around a tiny, yellow star. Most people call it Orion Six, but I'm pretty sure the locals call it Glenn.”
“Ah,” I nodded, pretending it made sense. “So, that means he knows you're not from Earth either, right? Wait, let me get this straight, if the two of you know the other is alien, why don't you … I dunno, is there some kind of community here? Like when people meet up in a new country and find out they're from the same place and get all friendly?”
Blayde laughed, a high-pitched, snort-and-giggle. The sort of laugh that made good super villains.
Zander glared at her before turning his head back to me. “Most do,” he explained while trying to shut his sister up with a free hand. “But on a planet so far from most planetary unions? It's like Blayde said, Earth is outback. If you're not touring, you're probably here for illegal business if you’re not already running from the law. Something universally illegal. Grisham's probably hiding something drastic.”
“And I intend to figure out what it is,” Blayde said, wiping tears from the side of her eyes, “and put an end to it before it goes any further.”
“Under whose authority?” I asked. “I mean, you can't just show up on a planet, accuse people of being aliens, take matters into your own hands, and—”
“Who says I can't?”
“You do this kind of thing often then?”
“Zander didn't tell you?” She smirked. “It's all we do.”
“Um, no, sis,” Zander snarled. “I'm sorry to say that I didn't tell my friend that we defend the universe. It’s not exactly something I want to brag about.”
“Wait, you're hiding things from me?” I sputtered. “After—”
“Running him over with your car?” Blayde spat. “This car, I assume? Or like getting him stuck in this dump?”
“Earth is not a dump!” My anger bubbled to the surface.
“We've been sitting in traffic for twenty minutes,” Blayde hissed. “All these cars running, spitting out their fumes, and—”
“Shut up.”
But she was right: we were sitting in traffic. With everything going on, I hadn't noticed how unusual that was. We had been at a standstill for quite some time. There shouldn't have been traffic at all; there never was. The sky began to darken, too, and we hadn't made it halfway back to the apartment yet.
“I'm going to check this out,” I said and slipped out of the car before either of them could say anything. I needed to clear my head.
Zander muttered something about knowing how to pilot a night wing, whatever that was, as I slammed the door shut. My patience had worn thin; I already looked forward to Blayde going.
The cold was intense and cruel. The chill nipped at my fingers and ears, trying to seep through my coat. I zipped it and wrapped my arms around myself.
My teeth chattered as I pushed my way forward. The line of cars was shorter than I expected, and it was easy to see where the jam started. The twilight made it difficult to make out what was happening, but as the cops set up flashlights, people mulled around, speaking in low, hushed tones.
The driver at the head of traffic switched his headlights on, and I recoiled in horror.
A body was splayed in the middle of the road, her dead, pleading eyes wide. Blood ran down her face like tears and trickled out of her ears, nose, and mouth. It stained her platinum blonde hair and the oh-so-familiar clothes.
If Blayde wasn’t sitting in the back of my car, I could easily have mistaken her for the journalist. Blonde curls, stiletto heels, every aspect of her attire, right down to the red suit , was identical.
I shuddered and returned to my car in a trance. Throwing the door open, I slipped into the driver's seat. My head fell against the steering wheel with a dull thud. I didn't notice I was hyperventilating until Zander put his arm on my shoulder.
Before I knew what was happening, I broke into pained sobs and buried my head against
his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me close.
“Did I offend you that badly?” Blayde asked. She sighed. “Look, I'm sorry. All right? I'm having a bit of a tough time here. I didn't mean it. Or was it the alien thing?”
“It has nothing to do with you,” I snapped.
“Oh?”
“I don't really care about you, Blayde, sorry. You made a shit first impression, congrats. No—after all this time, after all the work and effort I put into my job, all the good times I had being Mr. Grisham's assistant, I never thought he was capable of murder.”
“Murder?” Blayde sat up, excited now.
“Someone’s been murdered?” Zander asked. “Who? Do we know them?”
“A young woman.” I wiped my tears away, surprised to find I was calm. “She looked like … well, she looked like you did earlier. Her hair and clothes were almost exactly the same. The blood, though … I've never seen blood seeping out of eyes before.”
“The eyes?” Zander's brows furrowed. “Crap. Let me guess—ears, nose, fingers, mouth, every orifice, right?”
I nodded.
“This is worse than I thought. Grisham's got specters,” said Blayde.
“Specters?”
But the two were already throwing their hands around their heads, slapping the air as if trying to snag a pesky mosquito.
“They're not pretty,” Zander said as his hands flew around his face. “You don't want to know.”
“Why? What do they do?”
“They shred you from the inside,” Blayde said.
Zander scowled at her. “Thanks for that,” he snapped. “Anyway, yeah, that's basically what they do. It's a nanobot swarm. They swim in and reduce your organs to mush faster than you can ask what's going on. It's a quick and painless death, but it’s disturbing nonetheless. You can't see the things coming.”
“You can hear them sometimes, though,” Blayde amended. “If you disrupt their path you can hear them move. That's when you know you're doomed.”
“Well, that's dark and menacing,” Zander growled.
“There's a dead woman up the street. I don’t see how we can get any less morbid.” Blayde slumped in the seat, seemingly unperturbed by the turn of events. “At least he thinks I'm dead.”
“Specters are like your postal system,” Zander explained. “If you don't give them the right address, they still try and deliver the mail. He tells the swarm to find a blonde woman resembling the picture on the security camera and—I think this is how you say it—bingo, the target is dead.”
“But can't he just target the alien?”
“Haven't you been listening?” Blayde scoffed. “There are loads of aliens on this planet. Loads and loads and loads.”
“There can't be that many if we're so far from that Alliance thing, right? Or those unions?”
“The UPA is still the closest,” she explained, ignoring me as I muttered that I had in fact heard about them. “You're about fifteen light years from their core system, so even for them you're—you know how you have to cross the desert to get to an oasis, right? Well, Earth is pretty much that. For tourists, I mean. Personally, I think it's a dump, but some of them like the rustic, underdeveloped world experience. Like humans visiting … um …” Blayde obviously hadn't been on Earth enough and struggled to find a good example. “Australia!”
I rolled my eyes, done with trying to correct the woman. Then again, when was the last time Blayde was on this planet? For all I knew, Australia could have been a penal colony back then. Though she had been here somewhat recently what with having a phone, maybe she just didn't care.
“Anyway, none of them settle down,” she continued. “They enjoy a bit of culture, see the sights, and leave. Setting a swarm of specters on tourists, well, someone's gonna get hurt and someone else sued. Earth would have a premature first-contact, and the guy responsible would weasel out of it. Trust me, I've seen this before. And don't worry, I've stopped it from happening on more than one occasion.”
“I'm still a little unclear on what it is you do, exactly.”
“So am I.” Blayde grinned. “Oh, look, the coroner's coming to pick her up. We can move—finally. I'm starving. What are we doing for dinner?” Blayde leaned back in her seat again, acting like everything was all right and that we were not currently parked close to a murder victim. I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the raised hairs. They still hadn't gone flat.
CHAPTER TWENTY
When Blayde Came to Stay
Blayde made herself at home instantly.
The second I had the door unlocked, she slid past me into the living room and dumped her stack of files on the coffee table. She collapsed onto the sofa and flicked her boots off with her toes, letting them lay where they fell. Zander gave me an apologetic smile before following her, kicking his shoes off his feet and adjusting the files.
I closed the door behind them, trying to hide my annoyance. It wasn't going to be for long. As soon as the question of the planet’s safety was resolved, Blayde would be gone, taking Zander with her.
I wasn't sure how I felt about that last part.
“Oy, food,” Blayde shouted from the sofa, ripping me out of my daze.
Then again, I would be so happy when this one was gone.
Zander opened the freezer and held up a frozen pizza. I nodded. Perfect. That would be easy and hopefully, appease the couch warrior.
I turned on the oven. “It'll take about twenty minutes.”
The woman sighed. “Fine. Mind if I get cleaned up? I haven't had soap for a few months.”
“Explains a lot,” Zander snickered. She shot him a quick glare. She clasped something concealed in her sleeve and paused before relaxing. “I'll get you a towel,” I offered. Blayde nodded and followed me to the bathroom. She inspected the shower before stripping her clothes, ignoring me completely. “The temperature's a little fidgety,” I explained, politely averting my eyes and trying not to think about her perfect body—all high muscles and curves. “I hope—”
“I'll be fine,” she snapped, grabbing a bottle of soap and scanning it quickly. “I've toppled empires. I can figure out how to get water to the right temperature.”
I left as quickly as I could, my heart racing. There was something about just being in the same room as that woman. Heck, even though I was sure she was shorter than me, she always seemed to be looking down at me when talking.
Not to mention she was drop-dead gorgeous.
“So, you survived my sister,” Zander said cheerfully. “Here, have some tea.”
“What do you mean survived her?” The tea was incredibly soothing, more than I expected it to be. I sat in the armchair, glad to be out of Blayde's presence.
“She likes you.” He grinned. “Trust me, that's huge.”
“Likes me?” I snorted. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“She's tolerating you, which means she likes you,” Zander smiled. “Congrats.”
“It doesn't seem that way.”
“She hasn't threatened your death.” He chuckled.
“Yet.”
I picked up my phone, half expecting Matt to have texted to try to make things better between us, but there was nothing. I sighed and tucked it away. I would work things out with him when this ordeal was over.
“Is your sister always that irritable? You'd think she'd be more excited to see you after, what was it, ten years? How does that even work?”
“Like I told you, it’s a fluke of instantaneous travel.” He shrugged. “Relativity means my time was different from hers. I could show you the math but—”
“But she hasn't aged.”
“We age differently,” Zander replied. “A lot slower than you Terrans. She's much older than she looks.”
“So it seems.” I nodded. I would have guessed he was older and had been wondering about it for a while, but he hadn't given me a good answer yet. Both seemed to refer to the other as if they were the younger one, anyway.
“You�
�d be cranky if you’d wandered the universe for ten years by yourself. Her patience is thinner than paper as it is. Monsters, murders, plots, schemes—that's her world. Not plain, old, or boring mundane life.”
“You find it boring here?”
“No, of course not.” He smiled. “Earth is a fantastically vibrant planet. Amazing people. I can't tell you how much I’ve loved my time here. I was surprised, actually. When I arrived, I expected to be miserable, but I adjusted. You know, we travel more than you could ever imagine, and wherever we go stuff happens. Things go wrong. Shit hits the fan. We help, we fix, but we can never stay. And the universe … Sally, you have no idea, it's like a … a drug. The way it pulls you in. Once you taste it, see it, realize its immensity, you just can't stop. So, we keep traveling, and we keep going. We've never had anything close to what you would call a normal life, and we don't expect one anytime soon. Blayde's seen too much, she's done —well, she would never be able to slow down, not for a second. Normal isn't her reality anymore. I guess it was never really mine.”
Zander stopped suddenly, taking his tea and drinking it slowly. I waited for him to continue, but it seemed his spiel was over. Sometimes he would say things like that and then remember how inhuman he was. He and his sister were so different, and yet they were the same—misfits, outcasts wherever they went, unable to settle down or fit in. Alienated. With their extended lifespans, it was no surprise they would turn cold or calloused to the ways of the world.
Maybe Zander tried more. Or maybe he was just good at faking it. But Blayde made no effort whatsoever, and it showed. She was done trying. She had accepted the fact that there was no stopping, and it ended there.
And they would be leaving soon. Zander was transparent about his plans. This was temporary; they needed to keep going.
And where would that leave me?
“You all right?” he asked, studying me as he put his mug down. I nodded. “Come on, be honest. Is it Blayde? Is it the murder?”
“Trying not to think about either of them, thanks.” I shuddered. “Though I guess they're part of the problem. So much has changed since you got here, Zander. My world is upside down.”