Before the crowd of reporters entered, Rebecca and William made a point of standing a little in front of me the moment my discomfort with the growing mob of human reporters became apparent to them. Even well back from the podium, this is something that dlamisa struggle with a great deal. So much so that it isn’t uncommon for students of my race at University who are ready to present their PHD thesis, to give it either from another room with a video transmission to the audience, or to give it repeatedly to small groups.

This? To me? Was the promise of what humans refer to as hell. So many different smells and all blended together, and so many of them seemed… for lack of a better word, vicious. A warrior dlamisa would have been fine, they undergo extensive training and conditioning to cope, some even take drugs to dull the senses that would make tolerating this impossible.

But a little academic like me? As the humans say, ‘That is a big bite out of a nope sandwich that I just can’t chew.’ So they put themselves in front of me, and I? I was grateful. They couldn’t dampen the smells, but they could diminish the sight and let me try to adapt.

I did, however, sneak glances between them to watch Fauve at the podium. She stood stiff as a board, straight with shoulders back. Her forward gaze never wavered, not that I could see.

I would have been absolutely terrified.

Anything but a swarm species that knows no other way but massive crowds, would have been terrified.

Or should have been, at least.

The murmuring of the reporters was a dull roar to my ears, like thunder from the sky, and their many feet, despite being relatively small, was like a herd of animals over the plains. Just this constant pounding that didn’t seem like it would ever end.

But it did, it had to, one by one and two by two, the humans found their seats, I could see the predatory looks on the eyes of some of those in the audience. I’m not the most worldly dlamisa, I spent most of my life with my snout buried in datapads reading books. But even I was not so naive as to not realize that at least a few of those reporters out there were probably bought and paid for by Wolfbeard’s family.

I had to wonder what the lawyers hired by the Walkers were up to… but given their own propensity for academia, I assumed they hired some very research driven legal teams… for now though, we had, no… Fauve, at least for a little while, had to stand alone.

When the last reporter took his seat, she brushed back her long hair and said, “You’ve got questions. Go ahead and ask them.” It was hardly proper formality, even by human standards. But it was one hundred percent her, and my tail wagged a little.

“Did you know the victim?” A reporter stood up and asked.

“I know myself very well, thank you. I see myself every morning and every night, I’m quite well acquainted with me.” Fauve said and pointed to another raised hand, “Next question.”

“Did you know the man named [Wolfbeard]?” A reporter asked.

“The man who grabbed me and tried to drag me away? I knew his face, but that’s all, I didn’t know his name and had never said more than a polite hello, goodbye, or wished him a nice day.” Fauve said, and the furor that erupted at her statement was compounded by the rise of many reporters to their feet.

The sudden dulling of acoustics muted the mob of reporters, and when they could no longer hear even their own voices over the soundwave draining systems, they had no choice but to settle down. Fauve remained still and silent, pointing to another reporter.

“So you spoke to a strange man, smiled at him, and wore revealing clothing to a rich man’s workplace, and you ask us to believe you weren’t interested and didn’t go off with him of your own volition?”

Fauve cocked her head at him and batted her eyes, “That’s a funny way of asking if I went to a waterpark in a swimsuit and was polite to an adult, isn’t it? But yes, I went to a waterpark in a swimsuit. I smiled at a stranger and was polite. I had no interest in him, I just wanted to spend time with my dad and Bailey, that’s all.”

As the reporter sat down, Fauve ignored him and pointed to someone else.

“Why didn’t you call for help if you were in distress? There were lots of other people. Why not shout for help?”

Fauve took a deep breath, lowered her head, and closed her eyes. “He was bigger than me, I-I got scared. I hate to admit it, but yes, he caught me by surprise and I was scared. When people get scared, they don’t think straight. I knew I didn’t want him to touch me, I didn’t like his hands on my arm, I didn’t want him to take me anywhere, but I didn’t think…” Fauve paused, I could see the wheels turning in her brain as she recalled everything she’d been learning.

Her drive to understand everything, included herself.

“I used to think, before all this, that Fight or Flight were the only two options. But anyone who has ever seen deer in headlights knows there’s another option. Freeze. It is Fight, Flight, or Freeze. I froze. I didn’t know what to do… I tried to shake him off and when I found my voice again I said no, I tried to make him let me go. He tried to make me stay with him…” She stopped speaking, her body trembled a little.

Her parents started to move, the protective instinct of adults over their children is a sight to behold, but I knew Fauve’s resolve, if they tried to help, she’d remember that she couldn’t do it by herself. So I reached out and pinched my fingers against the back of their shirts. They felt the tug and stopped, they looked over their shoulders back at me.

They hadn’t a prayer of reading my lips, so I lowered my head and raised my eyes, they read my expression well enough and stopped. If I were to be frank, though I didn’t realize it at the time, the degree of trust they must have had in my judgment in that moment must have been tremendous.

After all, I was telling them not to rush to their daughter’s side. Maybe my impulsive act to stop them was reckless, perhaps a little knowledge was lost. Something for future researchers to discover I suppose. But I was sure I was making the right call. Her mother and father stopped in mid step and waited.

Fauve pointed to the next reporter, the room was quiet, the catch in her voice was audible when she expressed a child’s fear of someone taking her away.

“How much were you paid to set up [Wolfbeard]?” A reporter asked as soon as Fauve pointed at him.

The value of Percival’s instruction suddenly hit home. The way the question was framed implied that she had set him up, the only question was whether she was paid or not.

Fauve stared at him over the sea of anticipating faces, “I have never set anyone up for anything in my life, except occasionally beating my dad in games of Spirals.”

I could feel the shift in the room, the tension was like walking on a knife’s edge above a pit of starving gaka serpents.

“Why didn’t you fight back, if he was trying to make you do anything?” Another reporter pressed yet another ugly question, and Fauve cleared her throat to answer.

“I tried to yank free of him, I told him no. What more do you want me to do?!” Fauve demanded, she was mad, but kept her calm when she leaned forward over the top of a podium that was fairly high on her already.

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“Did you tell your… the alien to attack? Or did he do that on his own?” The next reporter asked.

“No. I didn’t even know he was there until the last second. So he did that on his own, but I’m thankful that he did. Bailey is a hero.” Fauve said it with such emphaticness that it was fairly daring the audience to deny she meant it.

“So you’re on the side of an alien intervention into human affairs?” The next reporter asked.

I could practically feel Fauve’s expression change, another child might have gotten angry, an unbriefed child might have reacted with anger. But Percival’s short but relentless drilling in what to expect out of the reporters left her prepared for the question, and true to her nature, she had a prepared answer.

“I’m in favor of decent people helping other people when they need it. But I’m a kid, I just think it’s awesome to meet aliens. When I was littler, my dad used to show me old science fiction stories where humans dreamed that aliens would exist and we could go out and meet them. Now we know that not only do they, but it’s possible for us to be friends. Bailey has told me stories about how awesome humans are doing offworld, how our pioneers are so brave that there’s an entire species that won’t let anyone but humans protect their young. How our fleets are so strong that a species that thrived on being pirates is now talking peace. We get to make a big difference out there. So how come Bailey shouldn’t be allowed to make a big difference to me? If we can help aliens, why can’t aliens help us?”

It might have been a long winded answer, and the opposite of a soundbite, but it played to human pride, vanity, desire for heroism, and in those who had it, their basic decency.

I barely remember the rest of it, Fauve was interrupted several times, and each time the sound wave swallowing devices ruined attempts at talking over her, only from where we stood was it obvious that her knees were shaking, or that her knuckles had become pale from her death grip on the podium.

But I didn’t have to be up front to know that despite the fear she must have felt, the backhanded questions that implied she deserved it, the subtle implications that she ‘asked for it’... she drank from a glass of water her father brought her, taking deep gulps when her voice began to crack.

My sensitive nose detected her anxiety as they pressed from one subject to the next until a reporter finally asked for ‘The truth of what happened that day’ saying, “You were offered a large settlement, if all he did was grab you and walk you a few feet away, why not just take it unless there’s an agenda, who is really behind this?”

You could hear a pin drop through the thunderous silence. I didn’t have to be in front of her to see that she was tearing up.

I expected her to recount the fine points.

But she didn’t.

“It’s true that ‘all he did was grab me, make me walk with him when I didn’t want to, that he just kept me there for a few minutes and… he was just demanding ‘a hug’ before I could go… I’m young, but not so young I don’t know that there’s a lot worse that can happen.” Fauve answered, the podium rattled a little as her posture faltered just a hair and made it wobble with her unsteady grip.

“But I don’t care about money. Mom and dad…” She cast her eyes over her shoulder to where her parents stood, “pay for everything I need. And I’ll work when I get older, I can make my own money. But I can’t buy back my safety. I learned in civics class that when the penalty for a crime is a fine, then the crime only exists for the poor. For anyone else, it’s the price of admission for their good time. If I let go of this… just let him throw money at me and my family and walk away, I’m saying he can do it again, and again, and again, as often as he wants. That money buys immunity. That violating me and my wants and my safety and me, is just a credit transfer and that’s it. I live with it forever, he forgets me and tries again a week later with someone else.”

“That’s my… agenda.” Fauve said, her voice scratchy and weaker than it was when she began, water or no water, “That’s all, I don’t think I can talk anymore.” She said and stepped back, the podium wobbled a little one more time and the glass toppled free and came crashing down to shatter into pieces on the wooden stage.

It was a surprisingly quiet affair, and I will spare you my own ‘interrogation’ in contrast to my expectations, I was asked nothing. William and Rebecca each answered a string of questions about their past employment, military service, and connections… which revealed very little as it turned out. The only buzz was finding out that the extended Walker family was playing host to various alien anthropology students.

But on the whole, it was anticlimactic.

Teresa appeared as the reporters filed out, standing behind a curtain and curling her finger toward us. We followed while she led us into the back, her heels clicked like the ticking of a clock, a steady, constant rhythm that was a testament to her confidence in her grandfather’s employment.

The sound control area was more or less what I expected. Species around the galaxy were faced with the same natural laws, so naturally they came up with many similar or identical solutions. Pyramids make up some of the oldest structures on a multitude of worlds, after all if you want to keep something standing, wide base, narrow top, there you go. Sound studios require isolation, headsets, clear panel rooms or video screens… some things just don’t change that much.

But it’s not often you see an old man in a bone white suit in oversized noise canceling headphones beaming up at you from an overstuffed executive chair.

“Fantastic job, all of you.” Percival said and rapped his cane hard enough against the wooden floor that the tip broke free. He thrust out his hand and with an open mouthed smile he took ours and shook them one by one before he reached Fauve. “Wonderful job, my girl, wonderful job.” He said and put his hands on her shoulders, “Quick witted and prepared, you could have a future in this industry one day, if you want, I’ll put an internship for you as a clause in my will in order for my grandchildren to inherit.” The way he barked with laughter when Teresa rolled her eyes, I wasn’t sure if he was serious or not.

“Um… I don’t know… maybe?” Fauve said, briefly taken aback, she rubbed the back of her head, but I couldn’t resist asking…

“Is that normal?”

“My grandfather is anything but normal, Bailey.” Teresa said with a much exaggerated long suffering sigh. “So no, it isn’t. Still, we will need new interns and she’s old enough to work that schedule in a few years? He has an eye for talent after all, I’m not going to argue with him.”

Who knew what that discussion could have turned into, but William interrupted it, “They didn’t ask Bailey anything… you knew they wouldn’t, didn’t you, Mr. Barnum?”

Percival’s smile ran away from his face, he was still for a moment, and turned slowly so that his full body faced up to William Walker. “You’re right.” He clenched his cane in his hand, “I did know.”

I’d heard stories of psychic humans, people who could see the future, but never met one until, I thought for a second, now. So I had to ask, “How?!”

“It’s simple, you don’t make for a good photo of what they want. You look like a cross between a golden retriever and an irish setter, but on two legs. You’re too god damn cute, my alien friend. Not the fearsome face of alien invasion. Nobody was going to get anything out of interrogating you. It’d be like raising an alarm over a teddy bear invasion, the hostile ones would be a joke.” Percival said, and to my surprise, Rebecca was fuming.

“Then why even have him there? Why put him through that?” She asked, and Percival smacked his wrinkled lips together a few times before he shook his cane emphatically in front of himself and answered her…

“Because people do their best when they’re doing it for someone else. I’ve handled media spin for every coked up, roided out, teary eyed, didn’t mean any harm, just a bad day, wide stanced, it was an accident, spouting liar in the public eye for the last sixty-five years. I’ve also done it for every headline desperate family, every kind of major wrongly accused figure, every honest man and woman ever to be smeared… and both always come out the same way. Can you guess what that is young lady?”

“Not a clue.” Rebecca asked, the darkness in her cheeks was gone, but the old man hadn’t intended her to answer anyway, he was already speaking.

“Idiots believe the dishonest and powerful, and the smart and experienced see through them. There’s not much I can do for them anyway, but the ones who don’t belong up there, the ones who are wronged, lied about, mistreated and thrown out into the cold by the public, they come out smelling like a rose in only one way. If they’re clearly acting for somebody else. Parent, child, best friend… family dog? It doesn’t matter, the only thing that comes through, the only thing that wins hearts and minds is seeing people acting for people because of their own hearts and minds.”

He tapped the cane light as a feather against the floor when he concluded, “I needed you all nervous for each other to be at your best, because one look at you lot, and I knew when you’d be at your strongest.”

The old man cracked a little smile across his haggard face, tossed his cane into a knee calf high metal wastebasket in a far corner and shuffled off to another corner to draw out a replacement from among a sea of matching ones.

The cane he threw away rattled in place and he gave the new one a few fresh taps on the floor like he was testing it out and then said, “And that’s that. I can’t do much more for you, but if you do need to do more interviews, come by again, if I’m gone, Teresa will handle it.”

“Then… then thank you, I-I guess, I think?” William said as he processed the old eccentric.

“Nah, favor for an old friend of mine, nothing to thank me for, you all head back, I expect you’ll be seeing a lot of interesting stories on the news tonight.” The sparkle in the old man’s eyes was enough to make even me take notice when he said that, and we did as he said, departing the sound stage behind Teresa, who barely restrained a giggle behind her stern professional stride and showed us all the way to the exit.

“Good luck, not that you’ll need it.” She said and gave us a wave with one hand when we walked out, ready to go home, and relieved that for now at least, it seemed the worst was over.