Alien and the Wedding Planner Page 5

  Commander Storm, Lieutenant Eagle, and Ambassador Grim were in deep discussion. They halted their conversation at the sight of her. Storm and Grim came to greet them.

  “You’ve met Commander Storm,” Ice said, gesturing toward the Commander, “and this is Ambassador Grim Misthell.”

  Alana regarded each one with a small nod. She went back and scrutinized Storm from head to toes. “I think I like you better in the other fancy suit.” Storm’s uniform was black and emblazoned with military insignias. He carried weapons and arsenals that could blow up a small army. He was downright menacing as a warrior.

  Commander Storm blinked. “Is that a compliment? I’m confused.”

  “You have to excuse him, we Crimean are terrible at small talk.” Ice quickly herded Alana to the private mess hall. Somehow, he didn’t like the way Alana stared too long at Storm. He wanted her only to pay attention to him.

  Seconds later, he was struck at his own realization. How curious. I feel jealousy. Where does that coming from? He watched Alana moving from one viewport to another. She had the excitement of a child. So innocent.

  And pure.

  “I can’t believe I’m in space. Freaking space! This kind of thing is usually reserved for astronauts, you know?” She pressed her forehead against the glass, gazing at the planet Earth. “How come we aren’t floating? When we see astronauts on TV they usually float like balloons or something. There’s no gravity in space, they said.”

  “This ship generates her own artificial gravity. It would be quite troublesome if everything floated.”

  “Her own?”

  “Do you not refer to the ship or a large vessel as she on Earth? We Crimean also do the same.”

  “Right, right. Sorry, I’m nautically challenged. Supposedly, my dad owned a boat when I was little. Now that I think of it, he referred to his boat as her. Irritated the hell out of my mom.”

  “Why would your mother be irritated?”

  Alana shrugged. “My dad liked the boat better than my mom. It’s a man thing.”

  How curious. Ice mentally jotted down the discovery via his BRI interface. He showed her a nook where their food was created. Ice tried to explain their predicament in a way that she would understand.

  “My race is dying, Alana.”

  She looked at him, surprised. “That’s terrible, but I don’t see how I can help you with that.”

  “We think there is.” He led her to a table then he sat across from her. “We think humans love in a way we do not. You reproduce rapidly because of those emotions and attractions. You can help teach us to do the same. Afterward, if proper precautions are taken, I may be able to convince the emperor that a mission to return you to earth should be undertaken.”

  She scoffed. “I told you, I do weddings. The stuff that leads to them is something I’ve never hammered down for myself, let alone an entire race of aliens.”

  “That may be true, but you do participate in a part of that love and mating ritual. And we’ve no time left to find someone better qualified. You’re our only hope, Alana.”

  A soft chime signaled that the food and drink were ready. He retrieved them from the nutrition panel and placed them in front of her. It smelled good, and seemed to be some kind of savory stew. A tall glass of iced water and a cup of hot, sweet-smelling tea accompanied the stew.

  “I hope you find these to your liking,” he said.

  Alana smelled it, and looked pleased, even if she wouldn’t admit it.

  “Please eat it. You need the nourishment. The modifications to allow you to travel with us can deplete a great deal of your energy. You’ll feel much better on arrival if you eat and drink now.”

  She stared him down for almost a full Earth minute before she tentatively tasted the stew. Ice could tell she liked it, but she didn’t say anything one way or another. She kept eating, but asked questions when she paused.

  “So you Crimeans don’t reproduce?”

  “Not in the traditional way. These days our young are engineered in growing amniotic vats, and the majority are raised in the government-funded caches. When a Crimean reaches a maturity age, he or she is expected to donate eggs or sperm to create the new generation. If they are willing to raise the child, the government will support them financially so they enjoy generous benefits such as housing, food, healthcare, education. Literally everything, so a family can focus its undivided attention on raising the children. Even then, most Crimean opt out of the childbearing and child-rearing opportunity. They donate their biological material and do little else. Our scientific studies prove that children who were raised in loving and supportive families develop better qualities, better personalities than those raised in the government caches. Trouble is, the new generations don’t have any interest in starting families and the like. If it weren’t for the government mandate for biological donations, we wouldn’t have had any children born in the last thirty years.”

  Alana cringed. “No. Freakin. Way. That sounds like a bad sci-fi movie. So, nobody gets married anymore?”

  “Common people? No. But those who belong in the noble houses are expected to get married to ensure their lineages don’t end.”

  “What about dating? Your people still date, right?”

  “No.”

  “You’re kidding me. What about sex? You’ve gotta have sex. Dude, it’s a basic need for every living creature. Just like sleeping or eating.”

  Ice only smiled and slowly shook his head.

  “Get out of here!”

  “Is that an idiom or do you really want me to leave this room?”

  Alana made a dismissive gesture that Ice translated as “never mind”.

  “In retrospect,” she began, “everything that we do as humans are basically for procreation. I don’t know if you people know about our history. The human evolution history.”

  Ice nodded eagerly. “We’ve studied the history of your species via your internet: Sahelanthropus tchadensis—Kenyanthropus platyops—Australopithecus afarensis—Paranthropus boisei—Homo habilis—Homo ergaster—Homo erectus—Homo neanderthalensis and finally, Homo sapiens, modern men.”

  “Yeah. Right. They said that when a caveman wanted to mate, he just selected an available female that caught his fancy, clubbed her in the head and dragged her into his cave to mate. Then, came the olden times where men became slightly sophisticated. They wooed women with song, bravery, birthright or how many sheep they had to buy them a bride. They worked hard, tilled the lands, waged wars, or conquered a nation in order to become the alpha male that would ultimately make them very desirable and get them laid. There goes the subliminal procreation instinct. And now, the present-day men do stuff that essentially is no different than their predecessors. Men go to school and study hard so they ace the tests and making them smart and popular, so they can get laid. Men play sports to see which one of them is the better, stronger, and far more superior, so women will like them and get them laid. Men work hard and climb the corporate ladder and become the biggest assholes and amass massive wealth so women will like them better and, can you guess what next?”

  “And get them laid,” Ice finished, ever serious.

  Alana laughed. “You get the gist. So you see, Ice, that’s it in the nutshell. Humans, just like many species on Earth, do what they do because they are driven by the procreation instinct. That’s my theory, anyway. Now, about your race, was it always this way?” she asked.

  “No. About a century ago, our previous emperor became obsessed with the idea of happiness and prosperity, and viewed anything else, no matter how momentary, as a failure. He created Arcana, a network that monitored all Crimeans every second. Every aspect. It was also the time when each citizen started implanting neuracom.” Ice made a twirly gesture behind his head.

  Her eyebrows arched. “Neuracom?”

  “A computer installed in the brain stem. It has many useful day-to-day applications, actually. The Arcana network detected when someone became sad, angry, anxious, or unhap
py in any way, and they were…corrected. Drugs and other therapies were used to fix them and restore a state of happiness. Anger had no place in the society and many were put in jail or executed when Arcana found them to be mentally defective. Our people began to fear such treatment, and had to learn to suppress the fear as well as any negative emotions to avoid being put into treatment facilities.”

  Alana held the spoon two inches in front of her mouth, gaping. “Sounds like a dystopian nightmare.”

  Ice agreed. “Perhaps it was. When people were no longer allowed to feel sad or angry, they could no longer even be happy. We fell into a state of emotional apathy and lost interest in feelings at all. Intellectually, society made great strides, but people were no longer interested in marriage or procreation, art, music, entertainment. Our race was dwindling with no new births, so artificial reproduction was necessary. “And when the emperor was assassinated, the Arcana system was destroyed, but the damage had already been done. The apathies were deeply ingrained in our people. Despite the government’s efforts to rehabilitate our people, some ingrained mentality was hard to correct. And, as you can see, here we are today.”

  “Why do you think I can help you? And don’t say because I’m a wedding planner. If you want to know more about humans you should have kidnapped a professor. An anthropologist or some expert in sociology or something.”

  “Trust me, Alana. It was not my attention to kidnap you. Something happened with our ship and bringing you with us seemed to be the only logical decision at that time.”

  “I see.”

  A brief silence stretched between them.

  “Suppose,” Alana said between bites, “you force me to go to Crimea, and I refuse to help you.”

  Ice’s back stiffened, and his neck tightened. That was a possibility he hadn’t considered. “Why would you do such a thing?”

  “Oh, maybe because I’m stubborn? And I don’t like being knocked unconscious and kidnapped?” She drank some water. “So, let’s say I refuse to help you. What will you do? Torture me until I comply? Kill me?”

  Ice put his hand on her arm, a gesture that wasn’t common for him. “Of course not, Alana. You would never be harmed. If you refuse to help us and we can’t convince you to change your mind…then my people will die out. Surely you won’t allow that to happen if you can prevent it. I have a hunch that’s the kind of person you are.”

  She shrugged, but it didn’t look entirely convincing. “I’m not sure I can even do what you want anyway, and I want to go home. I might not be that cooperative with you when we get there.”

  “Being cooperative with me might be a moot point.” Ice hadn’t planned on telling Alana about their dire situation, but it seemed pointless to keep it from her now. If she planned on being uncooperative, she might be even worse if she woke on Crimea among all new faces that weren’t sure how to deal with her. “You see, our ship is crippled, low on fuel for a journey that takes three Earth months. If it runs out before we make it back into orbit, your pod will be jettisoned and Crimea will be alerted to rescue you. I’ll provide information about you, of course, and any of the Crimeans you wake to will be able to answer your questions. Perhaps you’ll be more cooperative with someone who’s not responsible for taking you and it’s for the best that I don’t make it back.”

  Alana stared at him with frown.

  The lighting in the room dimmed, and Storm’s voice came through the intercom. “Ice, we’re superluminal in one minute.”

  He should get Alana to the bridge and the pods soon. Usually they entered suspended animation within an hour or two of top speed to save on resources. Alana, however, would likely lose consciousness.

  “Wait, what do you mean you might not make it back?” She dropped her spoon into the bowl and stood. “It’s bad enough you’re forcing me to go, but sending me there without you—”

  “You won’t be in danger, Alana. I assure you of that. If the ship dies in space, you will be sent to safety. And I hope that when you wake on Crimea, you do choose to help us so that those of us aboard haven’t died for nothing.”

  She approached him and stumbled forward as the ship lurched, preparing for superluminal speed. Ice caught her, an arm around her waist, another on her arm. Her body pressed against his. It was a curious feeling, and he found himself surprised by the warmth.

  “Look, Ice, I’m not happy with you, and I want to go home, but I don’t want you to die.”

  “Nor do I, but there may be no choice in the matter.”

  She shook her head, “But I—”

  The lights dimmed again. Ice put a hand on her cheek, just to feel the warmth seep into his own skin. He sincerely hoped they all made it alive, so he could convince her to help them. But also because, to his surprise, he wanted to see her again.

  She hadn’t left yet but he was already missing her.

  Alana glanced around in confusion. “What’s going on, Ice?”

  “We are preparing to detach excess weights. We must fly lean in order to conserve fuel. Finish your meal and let us head back to the sickbay. You need another dose of nanoserum before we enter superluminal speed.”

  “I’m not hungry anymore.” She grabbed him. “I don’t want to go alone. You took me from my home and now you’re responsible for my well-being. That’s how things work where I come from. Got it?”

  He wanted to lie so she wouldn’t worry about him. “In case we don’t make it, Alana, please know how grateful I am for what you’re about to do for my people. Thank you. And I hope you can be safely returned to earth when you’re finished. I’ll make them aware that is your wish—and mine.”

  He stroked his thumb across her cheek, and marveled at how strong his sense of gratitude was—at how strong the unfamiliar feeling could be.

  She shifted uncomfortably. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I have this strong feeling to kiss you.”

  She clearly didn’t expect that answer. Her eyes widened and her face reddened. She opened and closed her mouth but no words were spoken.

  “What I don’t understand is why I have this feeling,” added Ice, confessing truthfully. Alana made him feel at ease. He didn’t have to put up his shield in front of her. But that was the oddest thing. Putting up a shield was the first thing they taught in the caches to a child. The world was a treacherous place, and if one didn’t maintain constant vigilances, one’s recklessness would get one killed.

  Or a stab in the back.

  Her expression changed from blushing to…irritated? “This is why your people are dying out. Do you always over think stuff?”

  “I’ve always followed my logic, Alana.”

  “Logics don’t get you laid, Ice.”

  The light dimmed again and the ship shook. The door slid open and Rain glided through it. She inclined her head at them. “Sir, I’ve been looking all over for you. You too, Lana.”

  Alana drunkenly swayed.

  Ice caught her in time before she fell.

  Her eyes glazed. She looked sick. “Ice, I don’t feel good.”

  “Rain, she needs that second injection,” he said as he lifted her in his arms.

  “Right away, sir.”

  They both strode back to the sickbay. He placed her on the gurney then checked her vitals. Heartbeat, normal. Blood pressure was a little low for a normal human adult. Body temperature was also a little low. Rain administered the second dose of the nanoenhancive serum. Alana squirmed a little but she continued to sleep.

  “I want the report on those nanobots in her system,” he said to Leaf. Since Alana wasn’t implanted with a neuracom, it was a little too difficult to see what was going on inside of her without the help of a bioscanner.

  Leaf jumped in action. She activated the scanner and quickly identified the problems. “The bots put her in suspended animation to ease off the stress, sir. I can give her a third dose to maintain her consciousness. But that won’t last very long.”

  Ice thought of it for a moment. �
��No. We won’t put unnecessary strains on her. I don’t want to endanger her health.”

  “But I thought you’d like to conduct more interviews with her, sir?” asked Rain.

  “I do. But it can wait.”

  But Alana kept sleeping as they travelled in superluminal and Ice felt it was best that he kept her like that. The more he spent time with her, the harder it would be to let her go. His new attachment to her made it harder to approach this mission from a scientific angle.

  Suddenly, it was time for her to go into the cryogenic chamber. Ice wrote down his report and put in everything he needed to ask her. When the pod was released just before Campania completely ran out of fuel, he felt as if a big part of him also died out. The crew strapped themselves into individual sleeping chambers and put themselves into suspended animation to conserve energy. The oxygen in the chamber would last about three weeks before they would suffocate to death, but they wouldn’t feel anything in that state. If his calculation was right they would be rescued before then.

  As Ice injected the drug into his vein that rendered him into a coma-like state, he thought of Alana. He hoped he’d get to see her again.

  He hoped.

  Chapter Six

  Alana woke, in a bed this time, in a dim room she didn’t recognize. It wasn’t the place she’d woken the first time, strapped down and being “modified,” but it looked similar nevertheless. The walls were coated with white and silver material that seemed to emanate a soft hue of light. There was no furniture in sight except for the bed she was in, unless she missed what these aliens considered “furniture.” She blinked, adjusting herself to the light. With a groan, she hauled herself into a sitting position.

  A wave of vertigo swept over her but it abruptly vanished. Weird. Alana flexed her hand. Somehow, she felt…stronger. Relaxed and refreshed. Was it because of the body modification they’d done to her? She narrowed her eyes, staring at the wall. A tiny row of hieroglyphic writing caught her attention. She didn’t know what it meant but she wondered why all of a sudden, she was able to read from this distance. She was nearsighted but too stubborn to wear her glasses at all times; only when she was driving and watching TV. And when Ice took her, her glasses were left forgotten on her desk.