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Sean
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Everyone is gathered in the emissary’s office—Commandant Hendersen, Tom Whitman, Martin Bale, and a lady with steel-gray hair whom I’ve never met. They’re seated in a circle, and all eyes turn to me when I enter. They’re all fitted with oxygen enhancers because the air in here is too thin for them to survive very long. It reminds me that I gave mine to Geri and I need to get another one before I leave. Even though I can survive the air in here, I’ve grown accustomed to the oxygen-rich atmosphere outside the spaceship.
The emissary stands to greet me, tall and graceful. His long silvery-blond hair hangs straight. I’m self-consciously aware that I can’t get the picture of Geri lying broken on the ground out of my head and that the emotions coursing through me like a runaway freight train have put me on edge, but there’s little I can do to hide it. Once upon a time, I could bury emotions so they weren’t so prominent, but that was before my life outside of the spacelab began. When I left the lab to live in the human world, I quickly embraced the culture of private thoughts, and right now I’m longing for the solace that brings.
When the emissary and I finish our greeting, which lasts only a few seconds, Commandant Hendersen rises to shake my hand. I can’t help but notice the little gray-haired lady seated next to him is eyeing me as though I’m a wondrous freak of nature.
“You look well, Sean,” Hendersen says. “How are things at MIT?”
After a successful career in the US Air Force, General Hendersen retired and went to work for the EUC as the man in charge of keeping a lid on Earth’s association with extraterrestrials. His smooth ebony skin and fit physique belie his sixty-something age. He’s a man of few words, gruff in nature, with a deep voice that matches his six-foot-two height.
“Progressing as scheduled,” I respond.
“That was quite a grant you procured for them with your tungsten alloy, or titanium, or whatever it is,” he says with polite laugh. “I’m no engineer, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get caught up in the excitement. Space travel for Earth just leaped forward by a century.”
“We have some work ahead to perfect it for space travel. I’m not convinced the alloy is strong enough to withstand thousands of light-years in space without cracking or breaking down.” Then I think of my custom-made machete that was instrumental in taking down the Saurian. “The military application is ready to go, though.”
“I don’t think you’ve met Ambassadress Hofer,” Emissary says in a stilted, robotic voice.
I can’t help the startled look I throw his way because this is the first time I’ve heard him use his voice. You’re speaking?
Subtly, he bows his head. The ambassadress insists. She says she is wary of having me in her head.
I paste a polite smile on my face. She does know that even if you don’t transmit, you can still receive, right?
Emissary flashes his eyes. I’m not so sure I can. She has become practiced in the art of masking her thoughts.
“Ma’am.” I step forward, extending my hand. No one in the room is aware of the private conversation happening between the emissary and me.
“I prefer sir,” she says in an accent I guess to be European in origin. Her voice is low and gravelly for someone so senior in years.
She stands to her full five-foot-one height, her back straight and shoulders squared. Watery brown eyes gaze at me with hawk-like intensity, a pensive expression carved into her mature skin. She’s the complete opposite of the tall, sturdy forty-something stereotype I imagined her to be.
“Yes, sir.” I nod in agreement, understanding that there are very few humans who have faith in a ma’am, especially when it comes to affairs of the state.
Holding a blue docket in one hand, she shakes my hand with the other in a firm grip, her gaze unwavering. “You’re a magnificent specimen. If I didn’t know what you are, I’d guess you’re one hundred percent human.”
I don’t know what to say to that, I really don’t, so I just keep on nodding and let my mind wander back to Geri, retreating from Hofer’s unabashed interest in the thing created in a lab and born into a life of servitude for the greater good of Earth.
Then suddenly, a brick falls into place in the pathways of my mind, and I figure out why I’ve always loved the McKennas so much—they’re the first people to treat me as a who and not a what.
“Please sit, and let’s get on with it.” She needlessly motions to the only available chair in the room. “We have quite a mess to sort through. As if a missing person wasn’t enough, we now have a dead Saurian royal representative on our hands.”
I sit down. “My apologies for my role in that mess.”
“It was unavoidable, Sean,” Emissary says.
Hofer adopts a magisterial smile, her gaze leveled on me. “Was it?”
It doesn’t take a genius to know that’s a loaded question. Should I answer that, or should you?
Emissary tents his fingers, his focus on the ambassadress. Please engage her. Humans need to work through things with words.
“Yes, sir, it was,” I say, shifting to sit up taller. “The Saurian’s intent was to maliciously bait me into a fight by physically harming innocent bystanders—a woman and a Migoi. I believe he would have killed them and myself as well.”
Her eyes open wide, and she raises her shoulders up to her ears in an exaggerated shrug. “And the world would’ve kept on turning.”
The words hit me like a sucker punch right in the face, and my blood heats up to a simmer. “With respect, sir, are you implying that I should have done nothing?”
“Yes, that’s precisely what I’m implying. But you gave the Saurian exactly what it wanted.” She presses her lips together and tilts her head to one side, her eyes never wavering from me. “I’m trying to wrap my head around what you, a hybrid working with Earth’s greatest minds at MIT on the breakthrough of the century, were doing here, assisting in a cover-up.”
I raise my eyebrows. I don’t like where this is going.
Please Sean, just walk them through it for the sake of keeping peace.
I take a deep, calming breath, working to relax my facial muscles so I don’t look as though I’m chewing glass. “I believe my statement is in the docket you’re holding.”
“But I’d like to hear it from you,” she says. “Why did you leave your post at MIT and come here?”
I take a moment to gather my thoughts, lacing my fingers together as I think, then launch into a verbal statement. “Five days ago, two young ladies out for a late-night hike in Algonquin Park were startled when they came across a Migoi gathering plant samples for our scientists. Both women ran, one toward the woods and the other lost her footing at the edge of a crevice and fell to her, well, death if the Pleiadians hadn’t saved her.”
“I know all this,” Hofer says with a wave of her hand. “I want to know why you were sent here.”
I pinch my lower lip between my teeth in an attempt to distract myself from the temper rising up inside me. I’m not usually this quick to anger, but I’m concerned about what’s going to happen to Geri. I want to get to that part of the discussion.
Patience, Sean. We will get to that part.
I keep forgetting he’s in my head and that I’m in his. Telepathy is like any other language—if you don’t use it, you lose it. It’s starting to come back to me after spending the last nine hours on the spacelab, but I’m still not fluent enough to use it with ease. If I were, then I would look into this woman’s head and see where she’s going with this.
“When Emissary sent out the call for help to, ah, all us hybrids, I answered it,” I say matter-of-factly.
It’s unnerving how her droopy, watery brown eyes have remained focused on me. Has she even blinked?
“Why?” she asks.
Confusion flashes across my face, slipping through the stoic demeanor I’m trying to maintain. “The MIT project was in a holding pattern while we waited for test results and I had some time on my hands. Why would I not answer the call?”
“I’m just trying to understand why, out of all the hybrids the call went out to, you were the first to answer.”
I covertly flick a glance at the emissary. Why is she focusing on castigating me instead of solving the issue at hand?
The corner of Emissary’s mouth turns up into a half-smile. A human trait that we have observed is the practice of putting others down in order to elevate one’s own status, thereby projecting the appearance of ‘being the good guy’ instead of going through all the trouble of actually being the good guy. It does get tiresome.
“My apologies for interrupting, Ambassadress,” Emissary says. “The EUC has made it very clear that you do not feel the world is ready to know of our presence, and consequently, we are mostly confined to this lab to minimize our exposure on Earth. Under this restriction, we must have outside assistance in order to be operational. The Migoi have been very good to us, gathering resources, plant samples, and anything else we need. However, from time to time, we require a human liaison with the human world, and since the EUC no longer provides us with agents, we have no choice but to reach out to our Pleiadian-Human kin. Sean should be commended for answering our call, not condemned.”
“With all due respect, Emissary, Sean had another reason for accepting this mission. He wanted to visit with his high school friends.” Her droopy eyes return to me, narrowing in accusation. “You used a highly classified mission as an opportunity to party with your friends, and when the mission threatened to spill over on to them, you let your emotions get in the way.”
My mind flashes back to my conversation with Bale three nights ago and what he said to me over the phone. I’m sorry, am I bothering you? Interrupting your dinner party with our petty crisis? I knew I bruised his ego.
“You mean get in the way of protecting innocent bystanders from a Saurian spy?” I ask harshly.
“Innocent bystanders?” she asks incredulously, opening the blue docket. “Are you referring to Ms. Geri McKenna?”
“Yes.”
“And you were aware that the EUC had business with her, correct?”
The commandant clears his throat. “Before you answer, Sean, you should know that I have an audio of Agent Bale’s call to you, requesting assistance to neutralize the subject.” Even though his deep mellifluous voice somehow takes the edge off his sharp words, they still sting. I expected better from the commandant.
I stare back into their accusing eyes, thinking this is why everything turns into a shit show with the EUC. They’re incapable of working together. Hell, they’re incapable of working with anyone. Everyone in the organization is so damn concerned with protecting her or his own ass while simultaneously working to outshine their peers, that they lose sight of the real objective—our goal of peace and a better life for all mankind.
Therein lies the problem, Sean, Emissary conveys to me. In the beginning, the small group of humans we made contact with gratefully accepted our counsel and training. But then they formally institutionalized as the EUC and metamorphosed into an autocratic shadow government. Where once they felt grateful, they now feel entitled; where once they listened to our counsel, they now seek to control us. Instead of preparing the world for its place within the galaxy, the EUC continually makes excuses why they need to keep extraterrestrial life a secret, which results in the power remaining in the hands of a few. The EUC has become an obstacle to Earth’s advancement.
My exchange with the emissary has lasted a split second. So much information has passed between us in such a short time without lies, conceit, or power tripping, and now I’m wiser. Now I know that my gut instinct about the EUC being defunct wasn’t so far-fetched.
So I allow my human side to come to the fore and stand against them, using their own logic.
“Yes, I was aware that the EUC had business with her. However, I disagreed with the action you had decided to take against her. I didn’t agree with the loss of a human life.” I drop the pretense of respect. “Now, we can either use our time trying to place blame, or we can use our time to come up with solutions. The problems facing us are how to explain to the Saurians why one of their representatives is dead and how we go about getting Lisa Hornsby and Geri McKenna back to their families with a logical explanation for their absence.”
Hofer raises her right hand and lays her palm flat on her chest, her mouth slightly gaping in surprise. “You murdered the Saurian, and you think you can make that Earth’s problem?” She shakes her head slowly from side to side. “When they come looking for retribution, for blood, you’re the one who should pay.”
“Self-defense,” I say, correcting the murder accusation. “And there were two witnesses who can attest to that.” I look at Whitman and Bale. “Your agents found a hiding spot and watched the entire fight. I admit, I was a little pissed that they never lifted a finger to help, but now that I’ve been enlightened that the EUC is a proponent of doing nothing, I understand that they weren’t being cowards. They were just following EUC policy.”
Hendersen curls his top lip at me in disgust, while the ambassadress remains impassive.
This is human logic? Emissary asks.
It’s called turning the tables, I respond.
I’ll try it. “We would be remiss if we did not point out that your agents do not possess EUC clearance for the hybrid program,” Emissary says, telepathically sending me a wink. “Perhaps they should be put to death.”
Okay, that might’ve been going too far. Bale’s eyes are popping out of his head, and Whitman’s entire body has gone rigid, as though he’s ready to bolt.
Ambassadress Hofer is quick to respond. “With respect, Emissary, we will deal with our own agents the way we see fit.”
“As we will deal with Sean the way we see fit,” Emissary says.
If it wasn’t blatantly obvious to me before, it is now—the EUC, the people I was bred to help, don’t see me as one of them. They don’t see me as human.
My mind goes to Geri again. Her affection for me never wavered even after she found out what I am.
“Now, can we please move on to the issues at hand?” the emissary asks, taking control of the conversation.
“Why don’t you just give the Saurians Sean?” Bale asks, his tone edged with desperation. “You know, an eye for eye.”
“I shouldn’t have to remind you, Agent Bale, that you’re under investigation for your own actions in this affair,” Commandant Hendersen says. “Do not speak again unless you’re called upon.”
“Yes, sir,” Bale says sharply. His eyes shoot an unspoken vendetta at me before he lowers his gaze. I still have no idea why he has a grudge against me.
“It is highly doubtful they will come ‘looking for blood’ since that would be a blatant act of war,” Emissary says. “The fact that they sent a spy instead of an armed militia to investigate our interference with Lisa Hornsby suggests they were on a fact-finding mission to build a case with the assembly and gain allies in their campaign against our presence on Earth.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” the ambassadress says. “But isn’t sending a spy an infraction of MWA law?”
The emissary gives a bow of his head in agreement. “Of course it is. But so is the hybrid program.”
“So we’re locked in a game of cat-and-mouse with the Saurians,” Commandant Hendersen observes.
“Precisely,” Emissary says. “We will comply with MWA law and return the body to the Ninth Royal House and, in so doing, alert the assembly to an uninvited Saurian on Earth. The Saurians will be within their rights to request a tribunal into the death, or they may respond with more cloak-and-dagger tactics. Either way, we must remain vigilant and work together.”
Ambassadress Hofer’s expression begins to sag, and her grip on the blue docket tightens. “Would the Saurians request a trial when they broke the Accord by sending a spy in the first place?”
She’s worried because the EUC doesn’t have a voice or a vote on the assembly, nor will they until Earth attains space travel and becomes a full trading partner in the galaxy. In the interim, the Pleiadians act as Earth’s sponsors, representing them on the assembly. Consequently, if there is a tribunal, it means the EUC is at the mercy of their Pleiadian representatives. Undoubtedly, this isn’t sitting well with the ambassadress.
Perhaps the situation with the Saurians will be a humbling experience for the over-confident EUC, I convey to the emissary.
He leans back in his chair. Given their history, they are more likely to react with anger, pressuring us to do what they want instead of heeding our counsel. Time is running out. The Saurians won’t stop until they get what they want. The only way for us to elude repercussion from the assembly is for Earth to sanction our presence here.
I glance quickly at the emissary. But the EUC maintains that Earth isn’t ready to hear of our existence, and circumventing their command will only get us into trouble with the MWA.
The emissary quirks an eyebrow. Then we’ll need to proceed with caution.
I press my lips together in thought. Do you have a plan?
The corner of his mouth twitches. By reaching out to the masses via the biggest information highway on the planet: the Internet. I believe Geri McKenna may be seeking employment.
My protective instinct kicks in, and I automatically shout a resounding no through my head, even as a bubble of excitement builds in my chest at the thought of partnering with Geri, letting her into my life, and being able to live it with her without the veil of secrets.
I still need agreement from the Pleiadian council, Emissary says, letting me know I have time to think about it.
To the ambassadress, he says aloud, “As I said, it is the Saurians’ right to request a tribunal, but I do not know if they will exercise that right. We should be prepared in any event.”
Hofer raises her head and lowers it in an almost imperceptible nod. Concern and worry flash across her face before she clears her throat and straightens in her chair, trying to regain her confident demeanor. “If they proceed with a trial, our agents will be available for the Tribunal.”
“Thank you, Ambassadress,” the emissary says with a nod. “Are you also willing to assist us if the Saurians press for an investigation into our intervention with Lisa Hornsby?”
“I received your request yesterday and issued a written statement sanctioning your assistance in saving Lisa Hornsby’s life. They have no reason for an investigation.”
The emissary bows his head, touching his forehead and quickly removing his hand in an arc motion, the Pleiadian gesture of thankfulness.
Hendersen sighs loudly. “And now we’re left with the problem of returning Hornsby to her family with an explanation as to where she’s been for the past five days.”
Same problem I’ll have with Geri, I think to myself.
Emissary picks up on my thought. Perhaps we should treat the two issues as one, Emissary says.
My brows knit together. I’m not following.
Fabricate a story that somehow brings them together, Emissary says.
Brilliant, I think, because it is. It’s perfect. Not only will Geri be spared from the EUC, but she’ll also get the scoop on Lisa Hornsby. She’ll get the one thing she has been working for—a story that will rock the world. She’ll finally achieve the journalistic status she’s always wanted.
“I have an idea to get both Geri and Lisa home with a believable explanation as to their whereabouts,” I say to the room. “But it will require the assistance of one of your agents.”
Arching an eyebrow, the ambassadress turns her hawk-like stare on me. “Our business with Geri McKenna has not been concluded.”
“I can buffer both Geri and Hornsby’s memories, implant new memories,” I say. “They’ll never remember.”
“It’s doubtful Hornsby will remember the little she saw before she fell,” Hofer says. “But the journalist has been privy to far too much and remains a risk. I must insist that she be handed over to the EUC.”
“She’s already retracted her claims from social media,” I say firmly. “And I personally guarantee that she’ll have no memory of any of this.”
“You mean like Bethany Moulton? The woman who remembers everything?” Hendersen asks with sarcasm.
“The Saurian interfered with Moulton,” Emissary responds. “And since he’s dead, there’s little chance of a reoccurrence.”
“Little chance means there is still a chance, which is unacceptable,” the ambassadress says. “There’s nothing to stop the Saurians from sending another spy to finish what they started.”
“If the Saurians send another spy, the journalist will be the least of our worries.” The emissary’s gaze is pointedly directed at Whitman and Bale, who lack the clearance to know about the hybrid program. He returns his focus to the ambassadress. “Would it ease your fears if Sean agreed to remain close to the journalist?”
Okay, so I like this idea a lot, although I’m not sure how willing Geri will be to go along with it.
“You mean like a probation officer?” Hofer asks.
“Precisely,” Emissary says.
“I’ll take personal responsibility for her,” I say, jumping into the discussion. “You’ll agree it’s a better option than killing a human being because she might do something you won’t like.”
Hofer purses her lips and exchanges a glance with Hendersen, the two of them in cahoots about Geri’s fate. Then Hendersen gives a curt, subtle nod.
The ambassadress leans back in her chair, lays the blue docket on her lap, and crosses her arms over her chest. “So what’s this plan?”
I take a moment to lean forward in my chair, resting my elbows on my knees and clasping my hands while I pause to look at the floor, hiding the triumphant gleam that has sprung into my eyes. “What if both Lisa and Geri are victims of a psychopath?” I ask, returning my gaze to them.
My suggestion is met with silence as confusion flashes across the faces of Hofer and Hendersen.
“I hate to state the obvious,” Hendersen says. “But wouldn’t you need a psychopath to complete that plan?”
“Well, that’s where one of your agents comes in.” I lean back in my chair. “There’s a ghost town, an old lumber mill from the 1890s, approximately ten kilometers northwest of Lake Lodge. It’s the perfect spot for a psychopath to chain up his victims. We get one of the Migoi to make a trail there for the Sasquatch hunters to follow, and they rescue the two women. We can even plant a Sasquatch costume, make the whole thing a hoax, and send the hunters home.”
The commandant is nodding, and I can almost see the wheels turning in his head. “I like it. Agent Bale will take the fall. It’ll be good experience for him,” he says matter-of-factly, as if pretending to be a deranged criminal is a hoop every agent needs to jump through.
“And he’ll be able to quiz the journalist, make sure that her memory is truly erased,” the ambassadress says.
“Is everyone crazy?” Bale’s eyes are wide, like a frightened child’s, and he’s scrutinizing each of us in turn, looking for a savior. “I’ll be arrested and put in jail, that is if those yahoo hunters don’t shoot me first!”
“You can wear Kevlar, and I’ll spring you before the authorities even get you out of the park,” I say.
“We will assist in giving you a new face, Agent Bale,” Emissary says.
Bale searches the room again, desperately looking for a lifeline, eyes popping in horror when he doesn’t find one. “I happen to be attached to my face.”
“A temporary face, of course,” Emissary assures him. “We will return you to your own identity after the mission is complete.”
“Suck it up, Bale,” Whitman says. “You knew the score when you signed up for this job. We do whatever we have to, to protect the world’s greatest secret.”
“Then why don’t you do it?” Bale responds.
“Because I’ve already got plenty of experience under my belt,” Whitman says with cavalier panache.
“Yeah.” I try to keep the smirk off my face. “You’d never know Whitman used to be an albino pygmy.”