Sadaf was used to being an officer, not a piece of meat to be displayed to all and sundry. But now she was the center of visual attention for a wide group of aliens, and to be honest she didn’t really much care for it.
“She’ll be the first one out,” said Corporal Martinez. “She needs to look really good.”
On the viewscreen, the ‘president’ of this ‘United States’ leaned forward. “Her uniform looks fine. I don’t see the problem.”
“I think I do, ma’am,” said General De Vries with a smooth calm. “It looks a little too militaristic.”
“Military?” said Sadaf, looking down at the uniform she’d worn with pride for her entire life. “This is the uniform of the Coalition Exploration Bureau. We…okay, the CEB can call in military assistance but this is not anything resembling what we would consider military-grade. It’s not very armored, for a start. The Coalition military tends to show up in proper powered armor. And once they appear, they stomp everything flat which needs stomping flat.”
De Vries held up a hand to stop any counter-argument. “Look at it this way. This speech is going to be it, understand? It’s our one shot at convincing the entire world of your Coalition’s good intentions. We can’t have you stepping up to the podium next to the President of these United States, in front of all of humanity, wearing anything even vaguely military-looking. You need to look like…like you’ve gone native.”
Sadaf’s amber eyes narrowed. “Native?”
For once the general looked panicked. “I mean, it needs to seem like you like us so much that you’ve adopted our ways. It’ll sell better.”
“Sell…oh, yes, sell!” Sadaf perked up, which seemed to relieve her hosts. “I understand now. It’s to prevent panic amongst you humans, yes?”
“Yes, to prevent panic,” replied De Vries.
Onscreen, the president looked off to one side as someone spoke, then she nodded gravely and turned back to the camera. “One of my security detail knows someone who might be able to help. Her name is Teresa, and she specializes in last-minute tailoring and such for gala events.” President Correa’s mouth quirked up into a smile. “I figure this counts as such. I’m sending her over to you, and I ask you to please treat her with respect.”
“I think you may count upon that, ma’am,” replied De Vries with a solemn gravity.
__________
Teresa Vila figured this whole nonsense had something to do with her meat-head husband’s career. Most of her clientele consisted of upper-crust Maryland elites; it was nice on occasion to drop the bombshell among them of oh, my husband? Yes, he protects the President. Yes, ‘That’ President. But now, somehow, she knew that her husband’s job had in some way bled into hers. She’d been bundled gently but firmly into a private jet, flown half-way across the country, and then been driven up into the mountains and into a tunnel bored into a mountainside.
She looked up at the red-bearded figure standing in front of a door set into a little vestibule, which in turn was set into a temporary wall which blocked off the tunnel. The guard rivaled her husband for sheer body mass. “Sorry…I think I’m supposed to be here?” she asked, pleased that her voice didn’t squeak.
The man grinned, a folksy expression which helped relax her a bit. “You are indeed supposed to be here, if your name’s Teresa.”
Teresa felt her guts un-clench a little bit more. “It is. I mean, yes, my name’s Teresa.”
“I’m Sergeant Shaw, but y’all can call me Mack, ma’am. You’re Milton’s wife?”
Now she felt a bit of fear return. Just what the hell was going on? “Um, that’s right…Mack.”
The sergeant’s smile didn’t falter. “Met him not too long ago. Nice guy, wore a really well-fitted suit. Couldn’t even see the printing from his gun. I’m guessing that’s mostly thanks to you, am I right?”
The tailor straightened up further in pride. “Of course you’re right. Do you think that big doofus knows one seam from another?”
Mack laughed. “Ha! I figured he had someone talented in his corner. Now, ma’am, I know this looks seven kinds of ominous to y’all, but look at it this way. For once, you’re gonna know about something before he does. I fully expect you to be all kinds of smug about it to him, as is your God-given right.”
Somehow, Mack’s cheeky statement made Teresa fully relax. “Okay, then. But why would you need a seamstress out in the middle of nowhere?”
“Because we have a challenge for you, my dear Teresa,” replied Shaw. He stepped aside and waved at the vestibule’s door. “Please, step on through, and prepare to have your mind blown.”
__________
Oh, she was going to have words, lots and LOTS of words, with her big lovable lump of a husband. How the hell had he managed to sit on something like this and not tell her…?
“He didn’t know, ma’am,” said the Space Force general in response to Teresa’s unspoken question. “At least, not at first.” Even though the man was high up enough in the chain of command to give anyone a headache, Teresa ignored him as she paced around the blue-scaled lizardoid figure in front of her, who in turn was clad in a black and silver-trimmed uniform that she had to admit looked very, very smart.
“It’s all right,” she said to the alien in a soft tone. “Just stand naturally.”
To her credit, Captain Sadaf did so. Teresa looked her over with a practiced eye. “Wow, I really like this uniform. The color scheme and trim pattern is so simple. It’s going to be quite the rage going forward…assuming everything doesn’t get burnt to the ground, of course. So. You want her to look…vulnerable, right?”
Sadaf looked a bit peeved at that. “Vulnerable?”
Teresa held up a calming hand. “Not in a bad way. We need to get across the notion that you’ve assimilated Earth culture to the point where you identify as one of us. It doesn’t have to be true, it just needs to be implied. Hmm…maybe something draped like a sari? Yeah, you’ve got a nicely lithe and athletic figure, that draping will look great on you. Plus those blue scales…oh yes, we should be able to find a color combo that really pops on camera.”
“Sari? Pops?” The alien captain looked over at the general as if seeking support.
“Ma’am, we can get you whatever fabric or materials you need,” replied the general.
“That’s nice, I will be putting you to the test on that soon enough. Now shoo, all of you. I want a curtain across this section; Sadaf and I need some alone-time.”
The very manly men looked at each other in confusion.
“Am I speaking Urdu?” snapped Teresa. “Curtain. Privacy. Now. Just the two of us. Get to it.”
After a whirlwind of activity, she and Captain Sadaf were now enclosed in a little private area. The human smiled down at the uncertain-looking lizardoid alien as she placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t you worry, my dear Captain. By the time I’m done with you, you’re going to look fabulous.”
__________
Matt looked down at Captain Sadaf. The latter now wore a very nice-looking crimson sari in place of her usual more-severe black-and-silver uniform. “Feeling okay?” he asked.
The captain let loose with a snort that might have been heard clear out to her ship still parked at L5. “I feel fine. But are you sure this clothing will look correct?” She plucked at the red dress now draped around her. “It feels oddly constricting.”
“It looks good on you, ma’am,” replied Matt. Somehow he’d been roped into being part of the honor guard for Sadaf, who at the moment was probably the most well-guarded individual on the planet. “Just relax and wait for your cue. I’ll be watching you the whole time.”
Sadaf looked up at him. “Somehow…yes, somehow that makes me feel better. This is not something I’m used to, you understand. The CEB is supposed to be purely an intelligence-gathering force. After all…”
“There is no such thing as a Standard First Contact,” replied Matt with a smile. The unofficial CEB motto had somehow become known and percolated up through those with a high enough security clearance to understand its meaning.
“Exactly!” She glowered at the sea of human reporters just visible beyond the tent flap. “I’m just a meat-head, a soldier like you. I have no real expertise in diplomacy.”
“You and me both, sister,” said Matt. “Look, just walk out there like you own the joint, okay? This is your time to shine. You have a trillion-dollar military-industrial complex at your back, plus Teresa did a really nice job with your clothing, if I’m honest.”
“So you do like my dress?”
The matter-of-fact question threw him for a loop. He looked down at her. “Oh yeah, I like it.”
Sadaf grinned up at him, an expression he’d long ago gotten used to. Man, the auhn had a lot of sharp teeth. “Then I am content, as long as you are watching over me.”
“You can count upon that, ma’am. If anyone out there so much as looks at you sideways they’re gonna have to deal with my size-twelve-boot right up betwixt their fundamentals. Followed by the boots of the entire goddamned Secret Service soon after that.”
__________
The president shuffled her pages, a bit of theater which she’d agreed to. She’d long ago memorized the speech which she was about to give. It was, without a doubt, the biggest speech of any American president’s career, right up there alongside Churchill’s brilliant ‘we shall fight them on the beaches’ rhetoric during the darkest days of World War Two. She could only hope that, at the end of everything, humanity came out of this better than the Brits did after burning down their empire in the cause of defeating evil. Rationing would be the best thing to hope for, at the end of everything.
She looked up at the assembled journalists while she plastered a fake smile on her face. “All right, everyone. You know how this is supposed to go.”
A bit of confused shuffling and glances took place in the mass of people in front of her.
“I would, in normal times, start with the standard phrase of ‘My Fellow Americans’. President Johnson started that, by the way. At least as near as I can tell.” She leaned casually on the podium, now fully in the ‘just between you and me’ mode which had won her two terms at the crummy job which she now fully regretted chasing. “But not today.”
She let those words disperse into the ether before she spoke again.
“Today? Today I come to you and say ‘My Fellow Humans’. Why do I say that? Well, you will all know right now, with no preamble. Two weeks ago, we gained incontrovertible proof that we…by that I mean all of humanity…we found that we are not alone.”
She ignored the elevated murmuring around her and turned backwards. “Captain? We’re ready.”
The murmuring reached its peak as the crew of the Exultant Finger of Rithro walked and/or slithered out. Captain Sadaf strode out in front of her crew, wearing a stunning crimson sari. She hopped up onto a box already placed next to the presidential podium. She stood there, eye-level with the President, staring out at the assembled crowd as the latter continued to speak.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“They come in peace. Let me be clear on that. They were afraid of our reaction, as they had every right to be. They’ve dealt before with insanity, with religious fanaticism, with total and utter fear. But with us, they have no reason to fear. Because we are better than that. We are human. We do not reply to the unknown dark with screaming and terrified flailing. We embrace the unknown, we try to understand it. As you can see, Captain Sadaf has in turn embraced our ways.” She motioned at the diminutive, scarlet-clad and blue-scaled figure next to her. “We can only but hope to follow her example.” She then waved at the motley array of figures behind her. “And this is her crew. Four species, all united in one common cause. They need our help. And by ‘our’ help, I mean all of humanity. Perhaps we might one day become the fifth species to join their ‘Coalition’. Personally, I hope we do so sooner rather than later. Because there is a menace out there, one which might discover our planet. Our only hope of survival is to pull together, every single one of us. I will show you what happens when this menace discovers an unprotected world.”
President Correa waved behind her, and the until-now hidden holographic display lit up to show a ruined, lava-strewn planet. “This might be our future, if things go wrong…”
__________
“What do you think, Ernie?” Matt figured that the sheriff was as close to the ‘pulse’ of America as he was going to get.
The reply was tinny and muted, an unfortunate side effect of all of the electronic scrambling. “So far, nothing too bad. Everybody’s just walking around stunned, like they received a solid hit in the nuts. Even the women.”
He gave a graveyard chuckle. “Well, I suppose that’s the best we can hope for at the moment.”
“To be honest, Toke…I mean, I’ve had guys with gray hair and in their fifties come up to me and ask if there’s somewhere to volunteer their services. I think showing the video of those…um, the blob-guys…”
There was a long pause on the line, and Matt waited patiently for Ernie to pull himself together.
“…that was the genius move, I guess. Is it real?”
For once, Matt wished he could have let his friend down gently. But he couldn’t. “As near as we can tell, yes. They were a real species, and they were really wiped out. That one minute-long video is all that remains of them. Their planet’s nothing but a cinder now.”
“Fuck. Fuck me sideways with a chainsaw. Dammit.”
“You now know what I’ve been dealing with for the last few weeks, amigo.”
“Yeah, yeah. I just…okay, I’m a podunk sheriff in the middle of nowhere but…you know what the main vibe is that I’m getting?”
“That’s why I called, Ernie. Well, that and I wanted to make sure you hadn’t broken back into my house to drink all of my beer.”
“Har har. Okay, you shithead. You tell your alien pals that there is something brewing amongst us filthy Earthers.”
Matt, not for the first time, felt a little prickle of fear run down his back even though he figured this was a likely response. “Um, okay, I will tell them. Care to clue me in?”
“We want revenge, you motherfucker. Vengeance and sheer fucking hate, that is what we humans bring to the table. We’re gonna fix that Coalition ship, back to even better than before. Then we’re gonna join that Coalition and use their tech to build a fleet of our own. And then we’re gonna find every single one of those ‘Breaker’ motherfuckers and stomp their fucking digital teeth in while we laugh right in their bloody faces. Those poor little blob-dudes will never, ever be forgotten as long as a single one of us filthy humans can draw a single breath. You got that?”
“I understand, Ernie. I suppose that’s as good of a response as we can ask for.”
“Fuck you, asshole.” There followed a click, and Matt was left to stare at the now-dead headset in his hand.
__________
Chao was, by now, used to the comforting weight of Grakosh on her shoulder. The engineer had been very kind and forgiving of her endless questioning about all of the various tech incorporated both into the aliens’ landing craft and their ship up in Earth orbit.
“They have, no joke, proton-proton fusion engines, Toke!” she exclaimed as they walked along the sidewalk. In spite of having an honest-to-goodness alien riding upon her person, Chao was not swarmed with curious humans. That was thanks to Matt, who strode next to her; somehow he’d wound up appointing himself her bodyguard when out in public. That was fine by Chao; Matt’s mean Clint-Eastwood-esque squint meant that any potential crowding was a lot less than it might have been.
“Yeah, it sounds cool,” he said. “I mean, from what I understand we’ve been working on fusion ourselves for a while now.”
Chao’s enthusiasm did not abate. “But that’s using tritium or deuterium! It’s sooo much easier to get the heavier hydrogen isotopes to fuse! I know stars make it look easy, but getting two hydrogen atoms to smack into each other and do their thing? That’s hard as hell. We don’t even have a reactor on paper which could do such a feat.”
Grakosh waved his tail-hand as he interjected. “It is a bit more complicated, but you understand why we do so? We can just find an icy body and distill out its water into hydrogen for fuel.”
Chao waved her hands as well while humans parted around her (thanks to Matt’s flinty gaze) and eyed with curiosity the snake-like alien perched next to her ear. “Of course, of course Grakosh, it makes total sense. It gives your ships unlimited range, well, almost unlimited. You’re still restricted by your food supply, right?”
“Exactly. My counterpart, Mouqon, is the expert in that area. She can, in a pinch, what is the word…’forage’? Yes, forage for edible protein and such to add to our stores. It isn’t usually recommended; there have been a few unfortunate cases where an exploration ship fell afoul of an allergic reaction which wasn’t caught in time. Lifesystem experts, such as Mouqon, are by now some of the most highly trained people in the Coalition.”
“Man, I need to talk to her next,” said Chao.
“People are talking to her already, Chao,” said Matt, but his tone was not unkind. “You’re not a one-person-band. This is now a group effort. Data is getting exchanged, trust me. Now relax, that’s an order. This is supposed to be a fun time, some cultural enrichment for our esteemed guest.”
Grakosh straightened up, weaving his triple-jawed head around. “Yes, it is! Although I do wish you’d tell me where we’re going.”
Chao felt a big grin stretch itself across her face. “Trust me, dude. You’re gonna love it. I come here at least once per year, just to soak it all in. I know everything here, I'm gonna give you the grand tour.”
The knuall-toua gave his version of a snicker. “You humans do have a flair for the dramatic, don’t you? All right, I’ll just ride here and, as you say, soak it all in.”
The trio entered a paved courtyard, beyond which sat two concrete and grim-looking blocks. In between the blocks stretched a glass-covered pavilion, and in the middle of the courtyard itself rose a steel spire with some fractal-like metal blossoms at the top. Grakosh peered up at it in interest.
“Hmm. Very aspiring? I’m assuming this is some sort of engineering exhibition.”
“This is not AN exhibition, my little engineer. This is THE exhibition.” Chao spread her arms. “Welcome…to the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum. Now let’s go get our tickets.”
She led them up towards a booth with “WILL CALL” plastered on top in cannot-miss lettering. She grinned at the man behind the glass, taking great delight upon his pole-axed expression when seeing the alien riding on her shoulder.
“Hi!” she said, brightly. “There should be three tickets for us, under the name of De Vries?”
“Um…” the man looked as if his brain simply shut down, then he shook himself. Chao could feel a crowd gathering behind her, but she ignored it. After all, Matt was watching her back.
The young man went back into ‘normal’ mode. “Right…De Vries…ah, here we are!” He stuck three printed tickets through the slot towards Chao, trying and almost succeeding at not gawking at the alien on her shoulder. “Just present them at the entrance. Have a great day!” Now he did focus on Grakosh. ”Um, and sir…sir? Ma’am?”
“Sir is more correct,” said Matt, before he turned back to scan the ever-growing crowd and keep them back through the sheer force of his mean sneer.
“Sir, welcome to Earth.”
Grakosh gave a polite nod of his head. “I accept your welcome with profuse regards.”
“He says thank you,” said Chao. She accepted the proffered tickets with a nod of her own. “And we will do our best to have a good day. Thank you very much.”
__________
“You are fucking nuts,” said Grakosh.
Matt’s face twitched into a brief grin. “I do believe that’s the first time I’ve heard you swear, Grakosh.”
“You. Humans. Are. All. Mother. Fucking. NUTS.” Grakosh coiled himself tighter on Chao’s shoulder while he pointed his tri-fingered tail at the Apollo 11 capsule. “You went to your MOON in that thing?”
“Hey, it worked!” protested Chao.
“Through sheer dumb luck. Holy hell, you don’t have gravitics so this had to be a total ballistic reentry…” He scanned the encapsulated craft with an engineer’s eye. “Yes. This is designed to just…slam into the atmosphere, isn’t it?”
“You must have done similar stuff yourself, right?” asked Matt.
“Thousands and thousands of years ago!” Grakosh pulled himself up as he realized he’d just shouted. This was supposed to be cultural enrichment, not a lesson to the primitives in How Not To Do Things. “Sorry. It’s just…wow. I never thought I’d see something this…” he trailed off.
“Go ahead, finish the thought,” said Chao.
“…I’d never thought I’d see something this, um, primitive. I…you just throw yourselves out there, don’t you? It’s admirable, but wow.”
The two humans gave a glance at each other. “You wanna meet Buzz?” asked Matt. “That ol’ buzzard is still kicking, after all.”
Somehow the notion gave Grakosh a panic attack, something he hadn’t experienced in quite a while. “Oh, there’s no need to trouble him on my account…”
Grakosh trailed off again, realizing that the very evil grin on Matt’s face meant that he wasn’t getting out of this.
“Oh, I think there is a need. A mighty need. He’ll be tickled pink to meet ya.” The Marine walked away as he pulled out a phone.
__________
Chao was in the midst of feeling quite tickled herself at Grakosh’s distress when she felt a discreet tug at her pant-leg. She looked down at the small child who’d somehow gotten through Matt’s ‘Do Not Mess With’ mental forcefield.
“Miss?” the child asked, with a few adorable blinks of her eyes. “Can I talk to Mister Alien Snake? I just wanna say hi to him.”
Chao was now very glad she’d done as requested and kept a bunch of translator beads on her person. “Of course, honey,” she said, while looking up. She saw a near-frantic adult waving at her nearby, hopefully the waving meant please don’t kill her.
She smiled as she reached into her pants-pocket. “Of course you can talk to him, but you’re going to have to wear this in your ear. Otherwise you can’t understand what he says, okay?”
The kid perked up. “Of course I get it! I’m no dummy!”
“I never said you were.” Chao held out the little ivory-colored plug, while meeting the parent’s gaze with the unspoken message of If you’re not okay with this, please say something now.
“Take it, Tabitha!” exclaimed the parent.
__________
Edwin Eugene AKA ‘Buzz’ Aldrin Jr. was in a foul mood. Well, not that foul of a mood, since he was entering a place which he loved dearly. But he’d been pestered non-stop for a statement by the world press after the President’s speech a few days ago. It had dropped on him and the rest of the planet like the proverbial atomic bomb.
Aliens.
Actual mother-goddamn-fucking aliens. Aldrin stomped his way towards a craft which he knew very well; he’d ridden it back from the goddamned moon, after all. No ticket was required; the staff knew his face and knew very well that you just let Buzz in when he arrived.
Not that he abused that privilege very often. Also, he took great care to be kind to those who did let him in. Kindness cost nothing, and he knew that they always dealt with their fair share of privileged assholes. He didn’t intend to add to their workload, but at the moment his foul mood was due to getting that stupid message.
Get to the Smithsonian. Now. Right now.
The imperious nature of the summons had pissed him off something fierce. But as he stomped forward, he heard something…different.
He rounded the corner into the place which held his pride and joy. It was a glorious machine, a manifestation of will made into aluminum and ceramic tiles. Something which had cradled him and two of the best men he’d ever known in his life. Two men who, somehow, he’d out-lived through no virtue of his own. He’d just…done it.
In a semicircle of kids, next to the Apollo 11 capsule, sat a small dusky-hued lady with a white snake-like creature on her shoulder. The latter gestured with its fingered tail as it spewed a long, liquid stream of syllables at the rapt kids. He couldn’t understand a thing, but clearly the kids knew what it was saying.
“Translator?” said a tall and lean man who seemed to materialize out of nowhere.
Buzz flinched, something he hadn’t done in quite a while. “Eh?”
The man held out a hand with an ivory-colored plug. “If you wanna talk to him, you’re gonna need one of these.”
“I…” Buzz looked down at the little plug of technology, then up at the snakelike alien. “What is he telling them?”
“How they got here.”
Without a second thought he snatched the translator bead out of the man’s hand. As he screwed it into his ear, he asked a one-word question. “Marine?”
“Guilty as charged.”
“Figures. Goddamned crayon-eaters.” He walked forward as the snake-alien’s speech resolved into discernible speech in his ear.
“…but our Captain was wily! Oh, she was sooo wily! She realized that the Breaker had made itself into a giant lance-missile…what you humans call a ‘Casaba Howitzer’…and she had us do a sudden burn towards the jump-point into your system!”
The surrounding children let out a collective ‘oooh!’ at the notion.
“Yes! We made the jump into your star system, but just barely as the lance-missile beam hit us! That’s why we need your help, to repair our ship and let the Coalition know about you humans, right?”
Buzz cleared his throat, a mere ahem which cut through the resulting excited children's' noises like a buzzsaw through gelatin. The snake-like alien looked up; in spite of having triple jaws and as many eyes, he could still see the evidence of panic in its gaze.
“Gentlemen,” said the tall Marine, who somehow again had parked himself at Buzz's elbow without having seemed to move. “Grakosh, engineer of the starship Exultant Finger of Rithro, and various sundry children, may I present…Buzz Aldrin, one of the first two people to set foot on our moon.”
“I still say I should have gone out of the door first,” replied Buzz with a big grin. “I mean, what if some big ‘ol mean moon-beastie had eaten poor Neil?” He picked out a rapt nearby ten-year-old and gave him a big and unsubtle wink. “Where would we be then, eh?”
“Is it really…him?” asked another child.
Buzz met the weird triple-eyed gobsmacked expression of the snake-alien. “Figures. I show up and it’s just like an alien has landed, am I right?”
That was when he found out how loud the little snake-like aliens could laugh. “Exactly! Mr…Buzz? I’m sorry, the translator is being a little weird about your name.”
“Call me Buzz, I’m used to it. Now. I sense you have some questions for me?”
“Oh indeed yes.” The small, ivory-colored alien gestured at the capsule behind him. “Did you really, honestly, ride into orbit in this thing? Are you humans all fucking mad?”
Somehow the alien’s cursing in front of children didn’t phase Buzz as he began to explain. "Well, it was a staged affair; this capsule is only the bit that rode on top. The Saturn Five first stage used kerosene and liquid oxygen..."
__________
Just a quick note for the real Buzz Aldrin just in case he sees this, please don't smack me too hard. I love you and I can only wish that had been there to see you deliver the righteous Fist of Justice on that moon-landing-hoax jackass.