Parvati Devdhar was, by now, used to a lot of nonsense getting flung her way. There were times when she wished she was back being some no-name trying to claw her way up the film-industry ladder. Sure, that also had its particular flavor of horribleness, but at least then she knew where she was and what she was doing.
Now? Now she was lauded by all, worldwide, but that just meant that she was a bigger target for every bunco artist who thought themselves a movie producer. She’d already had multiple offers from supposed Hollywood executives and she’d rebuffed them all. When she wanted to make the move into so-called ‘Western’ films, she’d do so on her terms.
One of the things which helped her keep her cool was Ravindar. Dear Ravindar, the jeweled bearing upon which her entire life now turned. He’d…well, it was hard to describe how he’d come into her life. He’d just…shown up in her orbit, somehow, and she’d gratefully accepted that fact. But now Parvati knew that he was the main thing keeping her sane, just by his mere presence.
She looked at the message on her phone again, as if trying to will it away with her mind. She then looked up at Ravindar, who stood with his usual phlegmatic calm next to the only door into her room. As usual, his black turban was immaculate and neatly wrapped, forming a triangle which met perfectly in the middle of his forehead. His loose blue shirt and white pants were also perfectly composed. His long dark beard, neatly combed, shone with fragrant oil. At his wrist one could just make out the glitter of his ‘kara’, the physical representation of his bondage to truth. Across his substantial chest stretched his ‘gatra’, the harness which Parvati knew held his his kirpan ready at all times. She also knew that the latter weapon was not something worn merely for religious reasons, it would indeed be deadly sharp. Parvati had never seen it, nor would she ever ask for him to display it, but she knew that Ravindar would never wear a weapon unless it was functional and capable of killing.
“Is this serious?” she asked him. At the moment the pair were speaking English; they switched up languages every month or so, just for practice. Parvati was now an international star, after all.
Ravindar didn’t do anything as crass as shrugging; he merely raised one eyebrow. “It appears to be, ma’am.”
“The actual government. Of the actual United States. Wants to meet us?”
“I’m sure they only want to meet you, ma’am.”
“Well if they want to meet me then they’re going to bloody well meet you as well. You can be assured of that.” Her English still held a tinge of a British accent, a holdover from the lessons when she’d first learned the wretched language.
“I will be there if you wish, ma’am.”
She motioned towards the other end of the couch she perched upon. “Ravindar Bhindal, you have now been standing for at least six hours straight. There is a reason we humans invented couches and chairs and such things. Please, I invite you to take advantage of our forefathers’ ingenuity.”
He gave a rare smile. “I prefer standing. But I also thank you for the offer.”
Parvati looked again at the offending message on her phone. “How did they get my number?”
“The Americans are quite clever about such things, ma’am,” said Ravindar.
“They don’t even want us to go anywhere. They just want us to stay here for a while and they’ll arrive.”
Ravindar’s rare smile didn’t fade. “The mountain thus comes to Mohammed, yes?”
She laughed. “I’m not a Muslim, you giant silly-billy.”
“Silly-billy,” said Ravindar as he rolled the syllables around in his mouth. “Where did you pick up such a delightful phrase?”
“You have never seen the Venture Brothers, then? Good. We have something to watch when we next have some downtime.” Parvati tapped at her phone. “Whenever that might be. Okay. I’m going to say ‘yes’, but I need you to agree.”
“Ma’am, whatever you do…”
“No!” snapped Parvati, harsher than she meant to. Then, more softly, “Ravindar, it isn’t fair for me to just drag you into this. This could be a scam or some sort of strange kidnapping attempt. I’ll have my hackles up, as they say, and I trust your judgement and abilities. But I want you to agree to this.”
To his credit, Ravindar did consider her words for several seconds. Finally, he nodded. “I’ll be there, ma’am.”
Parvati tapped at her phone to send the reply.
__________
Ravindar watched with a gimlet eye as the troupe entered the hotel suite. First through the door were two people in black suits, with obvious earpieces and matching haircuts. They scanned him while he scanned them. The three then nodded at each other with the familiarity of those who earn a living escorting VIPs.
Parvati Devdhar sat facing the door, and now she was seated like cross-legged royalty in the middle of the couch instead of slouched against one end. Her hair was neatly combed and lay like a wonderful dark waterfall over one shoulder. If Ravindar was honest (which of course he was) she’d chosen quite the stunning green sari to greet her new maybe-employers. It was still a bit hazy as to what the bloody hell the Yanks wanted.
One of the dark-suited newcomers touched his earpiece, then nodded. “Thank you for making time in your schedule to see us, ma’am.” His eyes flicked up towards Ravindar. “We have four more coming in, all right?”
“Do as you will,” replied Ravindar.
The next one through the door was a shorter and darker-skinned American, wearing casual clothes. But Ravindar was not fooled. This one held himself like a warrior, and he when he met Ravindar’s gaze the two came to an immediate and mutual understanding. But then the newcomer’s eyes got big when he saw Parvati seated upon the couch.
“Oh wow!” he burst out, then composed himself. “I’m, ah, I’m Corporal Luca Martinez. US Army. Pleased to meet you, um, I meant meet the two of you.”
Ravindar kept up his stone-faced exterior, but inside he smiled as yet another person fell into fanboy exclamations upon seeing the person he protected.
After Martinez followed three others, but not just any three. First was a dumpy white man who looked vaguely familiar to Ravindar, but the next two…
Well, the next two were, by now, very well known. One was a small, narrow-shouldered woman with skin almost as dark as Parvati’s. This was the woman who’d first talked to aliens, and speaking of which, the next person through the door was an even shorter…woman? Yes, woman with blue scales and golden horns and this was the point at which Ravindar’s brain shut down as he tried to keep from just passing out.
“Hi!” said Chao Me Chu, with an unnecessary chipper tone to her voice. “Um, I’m Chao and this is Captain Sadaf Ta’Shakka, of the Shakka clan and current captain of the Exultant Finger of Rithro. You might have heard of her.”
The latter bowed and then chirped something which sounded like a budgie falling down a flight of stairs.
The dumpy man turned to the two of them. “They don’t have translators, Sadaf.”
Parvati un-crossed her legs and stood with a regal air. “May I approach?”
Chao looked in a bit of panic at her compatriots, who all nodded. “Um, sure. Hang on, I think I have some translator earpieces somewhere…” She began digging in one pants-pocket, only to be interrupted by the dumpy man who now held out two pieces of plastic in his palm.
He looked up at Parvati and Ravindar. “Pablo Rosas, ma’am and sir. Pleased to make your acquaintance. If you want to understand our guest, you’ll need to wear one of these. It’s your choice.”
Ravindar looked over the scene; his training kicked in as he judged avenues of attack and escape. Finally he stepped around the couch and plucked one of the earpieces off of Rosas’ hand. He screwed the plug into his ear, his eyes fixed upon the smaller blue alien in front of him.
Sadaf waited until his earpiece was settled before speaking. “Can you understand me now?”
He nodded to her, then nodded back to Parvati. “It is as they say, ma’am. Do as you see fit.”
She stepped forward and daintily picked up the remaining ear-piece. Ravindar did not know how she did it, but somehow Parvati make the act of shoving a chunk of plastic into one’s ear look like a masterclass in elegant composure.
“I bid you welcome to our humble country,” she said to Sadaf. “I hope you find it pleasing.”
“Very much so!” exclaimed Sadaf. “It is so…I don’t know the proper term…vibrant? Forgive me if that comes across badly. The translator matrix can only do so much.” Her horns flattened back against her scalp in a clear unspoken message of please don’t yell at me.
Parvati laughed that silvery, liquid-like laugh which had made her a world-wide star in the first place. “Oh, my dear captain, ‘vibrant’ is quite a fitting appellation.” She stepped forward, making sure that both Ravindar was at her back and that she was in eye-line of the two security guards flanking the door. “I also, of course, saw you when you first appeared to us humans. And then, of course, there was that other time.” She bit her lip…that was a bit too theatrical of a touch, if Ravindar was honest (and he was). “I am glad to see you uninjured.”
Sadaf gave a very human-looking shrug. “Only because of some supreme effort by some of your species. I’m just glad that nobody died. I guess the Sacred Mothers were looking out for us all, eh?”
Ravindar now felt a need, an almighty need, to buttonhole the little alien captain and start questioning her about her religion. But instead, he stood back and remained content to merely observe.
“I’m sure the Sacred Mothers were,” responded Parvati. “I also must say I appreciate your choice of clothing when you first appeared to the world.” She spread her arms and nodded her head down towards her own emerald-colored sari. “As you can see, it’s a fashion style I myself quite appreciate.”
The little lizardoid alien waved one clawed hand. “Oh, I can’t take credit for that. Teresa Vila was the one who made my dress for that occasion. I’m sure our people can set her up with your people, just in case you want to use her.” Sadaf looked up at the looming figure of Ravindar, and one of her amber reptilian eyes gave him a wink.
Somehow, that made him feel better. He still had his guard up, but this didn’t feel like a trap.
Parvati now made a great show of examining Captain Sadaf’s uniform. “My, that does look quite nice. Ravindar, do you think something similar would look good on me?”
“Um, ma’am…” He desperately tried to figure out what the hell to say. He was supposed to be part of the scenery, why was she drawing him into this? “It is quite a good color combination.”
“Indeed. I may retain the services of Teresa Vila and ask her to make me look this…distinguished.” Parvati motioned at Sadaf’s uniform. “Not exactly the same, of course. This is a military uniform?”
Sadaf glanced at those behind her as if to seek support. “Well, not quite. The Coalition Exploration Bureau is not strictly a military organization, but our ships do carry considerable weaponry.”
Parvati smiled in a regal manner. “Then I shall not copy your uniform, out of respect for those brave people who serve in your ranks. I’m merely an actor.”
“A very good one!” said Martinez with excitement, “You should have seen her in ‘Ashutosh’!” He then pulled himself back in. “Sorry.”
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Chao laughed and stepped forward. “Ms. Parvati, may I shake your hand?”
“Of…of course.” The Indian woman looked a little confused as Chao gave her hand a firm shake.
The Thai woman pointed a thumb behind her at Martinez. “This dude has, in every situation I’ve met him in, acted like the stone-cold professional. I mean, he is one but he still tries his best to act the part. Five seconds after meeting you? He’s tripping over his own tongue. I just wanted to thank you for letting me see that.”
“Well, you are very welcome,” said Parvati, “Now. While I do appreciate the visit, and I do feel privileged, I’m sure you’re all very busy people. I sense there is some reason you’re here rather than because of some whirlwind world tour. You see, your mysterious message did not tell me why you’re all here.”
With the actor’s hand still in her own, Chao blurted out, “How would you like to go into space with me?”
Parvati fixed the smaller woman with her gaze automatically, then the full import of Chao’s words struck her. For once, she looked flustered. “I’m sorry, what?”
Rosas performed a truly epic facepalm. “What Ms. Chao is trying to say, ma’am, is that…”
__________
“Why do I have to go into space?” Martinez, for once, did not look comfortable in his own skin. He and Matt were waiting for the final briefing to start, at some undisclosed location. Even Matt didn’t know exactly where they were, and that was saying something.
But for the moment the latter smiled, his eyes still closed. “Why are you complaining? You all will be safe as houses. Seven or eight days, max. Plus you’ll be riding in comfort the whole way. Hell, the Apollo guys managed to go to the moon and back in about the same time and they had to piss into a tube and shit into bags the whole time.”
“But they’d trained! For years! I mean, I’m just some fuckin’ idiot grunt.”
“It’s the deal we made. If Parvati goes, then Ravindar goes with her. That part is non-negotiable. So, if Chao also goes then we’ll need a Ravindar for her…or a Ravindar-lite, if you will…”
“Fuck you, Toke.”
“Buy me a drink first, Martinez. I mean, it does look good. We got the two main people, each wearing body-cams the whole time to capture the full experience, each with their own badass studly bodyguard to get the ladies and/or gents who swing that way all worked up.”
“Studly?” Martinez looked down at himself. “I mean…who’s gonna get worked up over me?”
“Lean dude with serious abs, takes care of himself, tracker beyond compare who is also death on foot and, oh, is also very honorable and nice and handsome?” Matt opened one eye to look down upon him. “Trust me, even if Chao says no, after this you’re gonna have to beat the ladies and/or gents who swing that way off with a stick.”
The subject of his gaze turned it back upon him. “Wait. How do you know I have serious abs?”
Matt just chuckled. “It’s all just part of the scenery, my man. You go through enough deployments, you find out what everyone’s packing, in every department.” He grinned at Martinez. “You ask her out yet?”
“…no.”
“And why not? This is the perfect time. Once the agreement is done, it’s gonna be a couple of weeks of whirlwind training, then you all get to go up.” Matt pointed his thumb at the ceiling. “Aaaall the way up to L5. You’re gonna be farther out than anyone except the Apollo astronauts. But you’re gonna be on camera the whole time, not exactly a good time for some covert kissy-smoochy stuff, even if some of you want to be the first humans to do it in freefall. Right now is the golden opportunity, if you ask me.”
“I just, I…is it the right time?”
Matt fixed him with that glare, the one which had made even the most senior of senior sergeants soil themselves. “I am not going to put up with this dancing-around horseshit anymore. Corporal, if in the next twenty-four hours you have not declared your feelings to Chao, you WILL wake up and find yourself duct-taped and shoved inside a closet with her for the following twelve hours. She can do what she likes with you, or she can walk out. However it goes, you will not get released until those twelve hours are up.” He leaned back.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Then don’t test me, bitch. You’d better hope that she doesn’t have a bondage fetish and view you as a sub. I mean, if you’re into that kind of thing that’s great, I won’t judge you. I never judge such stuff.”
“That’s not how it works, Toke. BDSM has rules, okay? You gotta set things up right, you gotta discuss it beforehand, with safe-words and aftercare. Aftercare is the key…” Martinez trailed off as he realized how much he’d just revealed.
“Why, Martinez, I didn’t know you swung that way. By the way, I still don’t judge.”
“Really?”
“Really. I’m now going to ask you a direct question. Do you want to get duct-taped up and shoved into a closet for Chao to, heh, ‘discover’ you afterwards? Does that sound like Seven Minutes In Heaven to you?”
Corporal Luca Martinez tapped his fingers together as he stared at the floor. “I mean…okay, yeah. I kinda want her to take charge like that. But I mean…I dunno, she’s gonna think I’m some kind of freak.”
Martinez flinched as a weight settled on his shoulder. But Matt’s hand was kind, as were his eyes. “I got news for you, Luca. We’re all freaks, each in our own way. The best thing we can to is to help each other find another fellow freak. So here’s what I’m gonna do, seeing as how I am such a nice guy. I’m gonna approach Chao, talk to her, make sure that she’s down for getting a little or maybe a lot kinky with you.”
He pulled Martinez in closer. “So, then, if you wake up in a closet somewhere, with your wrists and ankles duct-taped together and another piece of tape over your mouth, you will know her answer was ‘yes’. The safe-word, or rather safe-gesture, will be this.” Matt made a weird waving motion with the fingers of one hand, like an octopus trying to hail a taxi. “Got it?”
“Um, yeah. I got it.” Martinez was still in the midst of trying to get his brain back into order. “We should also have a safe-word. I mean, once she gets the tape off of my mouth. Speaking hypothetically, of course.”
“Of course,” replied Matt with deadly calm. “Let’s nominate…hmm, tapioca. That’s a perfectly cromulent word.”
“Tapioca.” Martinez shuddered. “Eugh, I hate tapioca.”
“It’s not about the actual word, it just needs to be far enough off from anything in the particular scenario to make sure the dominant one realizes that something is wrong and that they need to stop the scene right now and proceed right to the aftercare and cuddles.”
“How do you know so much about this shit, mystery man?”
Matt just smiled. “I am vast. I contain multitudes.”
“Fine.” Martinez looked at the far wall. “Go ahead. Ask her. I just…I know I’m being all kinds of a stupid cowardly idiot. I know I should take you and McCoy’s advice and go up and talk to her. But I just…” He curled into himself on the chair. “I just can’t. Not with her. I don’t wanna mess it up. She’s…fuck, I hate to say shit like this, but what if she’s the one?”
Matt’s big mitt gave his shoulder a slight squeeze. “Well this is what friends are for, Martinez. So. I’ll ask her, and she’ll say yes or no. And a ‘yes’ will involve you getting taped-up and shoved into a closet so that she can step in and let her freak flag fly upon your defenseless person. So I will ask you once last time, are you cool with that?”
“…yeah."
“Right. Remember, you said ‘yeah’.”
“I did.” Martinez looked up as his primary duty then came crashing back down upon him. “What about Ravindar?”
“What about him?” asked Matt.
“I mean, do you think he’s a solid dude? They’re still trying to track down the insiders for that whole shit at Camp David. I met him, he seems like he’s okay, but I could never forgive myself if Chao gets hurt because I was a star-struck doofus.”
Matt dropped his hand from Martinez’s shoulder. “Now, corporal. Do you remember the lesson they told you your very first day in basic training? The one that wasn't in the official manual?”
The latter thought hard. “Don’t fuck with the Gurkhas?”
“Yes, that is indeed wise advice. What did they say after that?”
“Um…don’t shit where you eat?”
Matt sighed. “I see they’ve skipped a bit in your training. You see, right after Paragraph One (which is all about the Gurkhas), there should be a subsection A which should say ‘the same also applies to Sikhs’. Yeah, Ravindar is a solid dude.”
__________
“Beta-amyloid plaques?” asked Dhuz. “Interesting.”
Zawahir Ibn Harith shrugged. The two of them stood in a small room, examining a giant screen which showed a high-contrast image of a human neuron. “It’s what builds up over time,” he said. “We’ve looked at various ways to scrub these plaques out of the brain, but nothing seems to work.”
Dhuz touched her wrist, and the much-coveted holographic display formed. “It might be because you’re tackling the problem too late. We auhn have a similar disease. It’s a protein derangement issue, similar to your ‘mad cow disease’, and this is what we found out…”
As Zawahir looked at the data scrolling past her display, he felt a sense of God’s presence resting on himself. He now knew what exactly to do.
It was the most obvious thing in the world.
__________
The man was clad in a dark-blue polo shirt, and he smiled into the camera with the perpetual cheer of someone who is doing what they love for a living. His glasses were clean, and there was the merest hint of gray at both of his temples. “Good morning folks, I am John Insprucker, Principal Integration Engineer here at SpaceX, and it is my great pleasure to be here with you to witness this rare launch of a Falcon Heavy, one which will be fully expended. This is a big one, folks, this isn’t any satellite or gaggle of Starlinks. No, today we're putting serious tonnage into orbit. I’m pleased to be joined by a very special guest, one Salvatore T. "Tory" Bruno, CEO of our sister company United Launch Alliance.”
The camera pulled out to reveal a bald, smiling man sitting next to John. He was more formal, wearing a snazzy-looking suit complete with red tie. “I’m very glad to be here, John. But we must not forget our other guest.”
Insprucker laughed. “Why, of course I didn’t forget! To everyone watching, it’s my pleasure to introduce to you all Grakosh, engineer of the Coalition Exploration Bureau corvette known as the Exultant Finger of Rithro.”
Everyone watching online (which was pretty much everyone on Earth) gasped as a pale, meter-long form wriggled his way from up under the table. Grakosh coiled around John’s shoulder and nodded his strange, three-jawed head at the camera.
“Very pleased to be here, John. Tory.” He nodded over at Tory Bruno, who held out a fist. Grakosh responded by bumping his ‘nose’ into that fist. “This will be a big throw, as you humans say.”
Bruno laughed. “Or a big yeet. The kids today would say that instead.”
“Ah, the kids.” In spite of a distinct lack of shoulders, Grakosh managed to somehow shrug. “They will always come up with new words to confound us elders, right?”
Bruno laughed. “That they will.” He and John now looked up towards the screen above them, which showed a white triple-rocket next to a tower clad in dark metal. The center core was mostly pristine, but the two rockets flanking it looked well-used, with lots of soot extending up the sides.
The trio watched for awhile while John kept up the patter to avoid any dead air. They all knew this livestream was not a mere PR stunt.
“How much?” asked Bruno at an appropriate pause.
“Twenty tons,” responded John. "We could have lofted more, but there was a fairing issue."
“So then we’ll send up fifteen tons after this, on Vulcan.” Bruno’s face became set in determination.
“Then we can go to work!” said Grakosh with enthusiasm. “Plus we’ll be shepherding Ms. Parvati and Ms. Chao!”
“That you will,” said John. He turned to address the camera. “As you probably know, the aforementioned two humans’ visiting the Rithro will be a live-stream event broadcast without ads, free to the entire world.”
“Four humans,” added Grakosh.
“Of course,” said Bruno. “Truly a historic moment for our species, in any case.”
Grakosh twirled his head, his species’ equivalent of throat-clearing. “May I say here, in front of the whole world, you humans never cease to amaze me with your cleverness. Why, only a few weeks ago we were discussing details on what the patching material had to behave like, and now we’re in the midst of launching literal tons of that material into orbit!”
“We just hope it works,” said Bruno. “But if it doesn’t, we’ll just have to try again.”
“Indeed!” The little alien wiggled against John’s shoulder in obvious happiness, not knowing that the gesture would result in an entire shadow-economy revolving around what the kids called ‘the cute alien snake dude!’, one with lots of knock-off plushie simulacra of himself. Forty years afterwards, the copyright lawyers were still sorting through the entire mess.
“We are now at T-minus seven minutes,” John said as a clipped, feminine voice sounded throughout the studio. “Engine chill has begun." He was not your typical PR type, but he knew how to keep talking. “What that means, is that chilled vapors of the oxidizer and fuel are now begin fed through the engines…”
“Twenty-seven engines,” added Bruno. “You are all madmen.”
John grinned as he realized that he could tag-team with Bruno, who was himself a born PR person. “Twenty-seven engines, or one, or two, or three…after awhile it’s just numbers.”
“Still. Twenty-seven? Gives me a case of the vapors just thinking about it. Anyways, folks, as my colleague here says we’re now getting the engines used to being cold. There’s gonna be a lot of cryogenic fluid getting flung through them in the near future and we need all of the metal components in there to be ready for that…”
“Strongback retract. T-minus five minutes.”
John stepped in smoothly. “And that means that the transporter-erector structure, which carried this Falcon Heavy out to the launch pad, will now uncouple from the rocket. The TE will continue to ‘top off’ the tanks inside the craft until T-minus zero.”
John and Bruno continued their back-and-forth banter over the next few minutes, with Grakosh interjecting here and there in a very cute manner, which again created more headaches for those poor lawyers forty years hence.
“Falcon Heavy is in startup.”
John straightened up. “All right folks, we are less than one minute from launch and the vehicle itself has now taken control of the countdown.”
“Intriguing,” said Grakosh. “You don’t control it yourselves?”
“I mean, we could still do that,” said Bruno. “After all, we did in the past. But with computers nowadays it’s a lot faster to let the rocket itself figure out if things are copacetic. If not, it can shut itself down faster than we ever could.”
Another voice sounded throughout the studio at T-minus forty seconds. “This is the mission director, we are go for launch.”
“Excellent news, folks!” exclaimed John with true happiness. “Forty seconds to go, and nothing has cropped up to scrub this. The weather looks good…man, Tory, look at that view.” The screen next to him showed an azure sky, chilly but with not a hint of clouds.
“That does look nice,” said Bruno. “Of course, I’m glad I’m not out there. Even Florida winter is still winter. I’ve been living in warm weather for too long, my blood’s too thin to put up with any serious cold.”
“Me too, brother.” John and Bruno shared a fist-bump, then after a pointed glare from the non-hands-using member of the trio they performed a mutual three-way bump with Grakosh participating using his head.
“T-minus ten. Nine. Eight. Six. Seven…”
The three of them stared at the screen with rapt attention. Like any proper missile men, the trio could get excited about a model-rocket launch from some grand-daughter’s back yard.
“…Five. Four. Three. Two…” A brilliant orange flame appeared from the bottom of the triple rocket.
“…Engines at full power, and liftoff! Liftoff of Earth Repair Mission One!”
Behind him, John could faintly hear the cheers of the SpaceX crew as the screen became flooded with light. The huge rocket surged off of its launch pad, before the view cut away to one much further off. It was equally as bright; twenty-seven rocket engines were now working in sync to convert RP-1 and oxygen into go-fast juice.
John then realized he was on his feet, screaming his damn-fool head off. His little alien comrade didn’t seem to mind; Grakosh was waving his tri-fingered tail at the screen and whooping it up as loud as any human. Tory Bruno now stood beside him, also whooping and dispensing back-slaps and head-bonks to all and sundry.
He’d watched humans get launched into space but somehow, John knew that this was different. This was not just some publicity stunt. This launch mattered. Humans were taking that first proper step into the galaxy. One which said, ‘we are here to stay’.