Alien and the Wedding Planner Page 6

  Holy fuck. Ice!

  Where is that handsome bastard?

  She pushed the blanket aside and found herself dressed in a light two-piece suit of silvery material, similar to the ones Ice and the rest wore. Alana wondered if Rain or Leaf had changed her clothes. She hoped it was one of them. Granted, they were aliens, but at least they were female.

  She stood, and the lights in the room came on.

  “Hello?” she said softly.

  There didn’t appear to be anything like a telephone or an intercom anywhere in sight.

  “Hellooo!” Alana tried again. “Captain Kirk to Command Center, is anyone there?” Her throat felt as if she’d used her voice for a while. How long have I been sleeping? she wondered. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Yoohoo? Beam me up, Scotty. Anytime now.”

  There was a soft hum and the wall on the opposite side split open. From it a man and woman entered. Or rather, guy alien and chick alien. They didn’t seem familiar to her. Nope. She didn’t know either of them.

  “Greetings,” said the male. He was tall and slender and wore his hair unbound. There was a black armband on him with more hieroglyphic symbols. Maybe it signified his rank or something. “How do you feel, Alana Watson?” the man asked, a neutral expression on his face. The woman’s expression was more welcoming, though she didn’t smile.

  Alana felt dumpy in front of this ethereal being. She straightened herself and crossed her arms to make herself look formidable. “I feel fine. I must have passed out from all the excitement. Being kidnapped will do that to a person, I guess. Where am I? Where’s Ice?”

  The two aliens looked at each other, their eyebrows drawn up in confusion. Then the female stepped forward. “I am Dew Frostmelt, and this is Fire Redwater. We’ve come to help you get ready for the royal banquet. Our public press services are eager to get a first glimpse of a real human. The whole population waits to see what you look and sound like, Alana Watson.”

  “Please, just call me Alana.” Press? A royal banquet? “Wait a minute, what do you mean, banquet? Are you saying I’m not on the ship anymore?”

  “No. You’re on our home planet. The border patrol rescued your pod three weeks ago and they transferred you here.”

  Oh my God, I’m on Crimea. She felt like she’d only been out for moments, but hadn’t Ice said it was a three-month journey? Other things he said came rushing back to her, how she’d be safe even if their ship ran out of fuel. But they couldn’t all be dead. Not all of them.

  Not Ice.

  “You rescued me?” Her voice shook.

  Fire stepped forward, still looking confused. “The border cruiser found your pod and went to search for Campania. They found her and towed her home. The Campania docked with our space station a few hours ago, and you were brought here to wake up in your own time.”

  A surge of relief washed through her. “Ice—everyone—is alive?”

  “Yes,” he said. “Apparently, they shut down all non-essential systems and found other ways to extend their fuel supply. I was told Campania only had a few hours of oxygen reserve when the rescue crew boarded the ship. The expedition crew was lucky.”

  She sat on the bed, hand on her chest. Thank goodness. But why wasn’t Ice here, explaining things himself?

  Dew gestured to a door on the side wall. “In there you may bathe and change clothes. Your clothes have been laundered, and we can commission the logistic to create more like that for your convenience, if you wish. A little food and water will be waiting here for you when you finish, so you don’t have to face the press and your new surroundings on an empty stomach. We’ll be at the banquet soon enough where you can eat as much as you wish.”

  Alana supposed she should have refused in protest or insisted she be allowed to go home. But if she was already on Crimea, it would do little good.

  She wasn’t going to thank her captors, though, out of principle. She nodded and walked into what served as a bathroom. The toilet was streamlined and seemed to be part of the wall rather than a separate appliance, with no visible water in the bowl. She used it and wiped with a slightly damp cloth that emerged from a slot in the wall. When she stood and turned, a thin sheen of water blasted everything away, leaving the bowl pristine and shining again.

  Alana stripped and stepped into a large, round tub. The wall only contained one large button that bore symbols on both sides almost like hieroglyphics or runes, but nothing she could understand. She stepped to the side and pushed it, and the water streamed down directly in front of the wall. She reached out and found it was a bit cooler than she liked, so she touched the right side of the button, and as she’d hoped, the water heated up.

  When she stepped beneath the water, a small door opened near the control button with a jar of light green liquid. She poured some into her hand and enjoyed the pleasant mint smell of what must have been some kind of soap. She hoped it worked as shampoo, too.

  The pressure and heat of the water served to relax her. She’d have to ask someone later how to keep water from draining from the tub. She could use a good, long soak.

  She dried herself with a luxurious white towel and dressed in her regular clothes. Instantly, she felt more at ease. Maybe tomorrow she’d wear what they provided to try to fit in at least a little.

  When she went back into the bedroom, a tray with a large glass of iced water along with a plate of bread and what she guessed was a kind of cheese waited for her. It didn’t taste like any cheese she’d ever eaten, but it was savory and good. She gobbled it down and drank all the water.

  As soon as she was finished, Fire and Dew came into the room. She was going to have to inform them about the human custom of knocking.

  “Are you ready?” Dew asked. Fire stood stoic, but raised his eyebrows as if he wondered, too.

  “About that. I’m still not convinced I can do anything to help you.”

  “Our Minister of Science seems sure enough,” Dew said. “Come, let’s get you to the banquet. Our emperor is eager to meet you.” She opened the door and gestured for Alana to walk through first. Alana did, and at the end of a long hall she stepped through a doorway where dozens of Crimeans, almost all of them pale with white and silver hair, waited to ask questions and take photographs of her.

  Crimeans weren’t that different from humans in that sense. The crowd reminded her of the paparazzi chasing a celebrity, though they were more controlled, with less shouting and bustling. They were quiet and respectful, but it still reminded her of the crowds that gathered every time a pop or movie star went anywhere.

  Fortunately, Dew and Fire guided her through the group to a path that led to a huge building of glass and metal. It occurred to her that she was a little cool, and the outdoors was bright, but she couldn’t see a sun. It was bright because of overhead lights. Yet there were trees, grass, and walkways.

  As soon as they entered the large structure, she was led down a shining hallway to a large room where a man waited at the head of a long, glass table. He was surrounded by at least a dozen people, male and female, who stood straight with the bearing of soldiers at attention. His face was sunken and lined. His hair was the same shades of silver and white as the rest, but his braid was far longer than anyone else’s.

  Except one.

  The woman seated next to him was much older. It showed on her face, her thin body, and her bearing. She held herself like nobility, and had the highest cheekbones Alana had ever seen. They almost looked sharp; that if she touched one, it might cut her finger. But the expression on her face was pleasant. Even welcoming.

  The man rose, took the older woman’s arm, and walked toward Alana with two soldiers flanking them.

  “Alana Watson,” he said, reaching his hand to take hers in a quick, formal handshake. “I am Emperor Chaos, and this is the Dowager Empress, my mother. On behalf of my people, I welcome you to our homeland, Crimea.”

  Chapter Seven

  Ice recognized what he felt as irritation. Not just the frustration that S
torm often caused him—the kind that made him want to rub the bridge of his nose and grit his teeth.

  This was real irritation—almost anger—of the type that most Crimeans tamped down and ignored, to the point that they barely felt such emotions anymore. But Ice felt it. It made him want to ball his hands into fists and throw one right at the Prime minister’s face.

  The irony of it was that the Prime Minister seemed to be feeling a similar emotion, as he sneered at Ice, Grim, and Storm. They had just relayed the details of their mission to him. He paced in front of them, hands together behind his back, his eyes slits.

  “What a waste of resources. I told Chaos that this mission to Earth was a fool’s errand. I take no joy in this, no satisfaction at being right. You should have stayed and searched for a solution right on Crimea.”

  Ice took a few slow, steadying breaths. “Alana—”

  “Alana,” the Prime Minister spat, stepping toe to toe with Ice. “She arranges Earthling wedding ceremonies. We could arrange ceremonies without you having wasted so much fuel and time on this trip. Ceremonies are not the answer, and I would have thought you might realize that.”

  When the Prime Minister didn’t move, clearly waiting for an answer, Ice said, “We did the best we could considering our mission was cut so short.”

  “Excuses,” Hallow growled before he began pacing again.

  “Nonetheless, we’re launching a full investigation into the sabotage—”

  “Sabotage?” He stopped again, eyeing all of them in turn. “You should be careful using such terms before you’re certain. Investigate your malfunctions, and then determine whether it was sabotage and who might be to blame. But jumping to conclusions so you have an excuse for this failure is unacceptable, Minister Silverkiller. Don’t you agree, Commander Dreadhowl?”

  Storm, ever the military man, gritted his teeth together and said, “Yes, sir.”

  Ice couldn’t hold it against him. Sometimes one had to play the game, no matter what the truth might be.

  “Ambassador Grim, do you think you were sabotaged?” the Prime Minister asked.

  Ice turned to Grim, waiting to see what his reaction would be. In typical Grim style, he said, “I do. And I also think we’ll get to the bottom of how and who soon enough. We’ve put our best people on it.”

  The Prime Minister nodded. “I understand you’ve cleared this investigation with the emperor already? No doubt, while he was praising all your efforts on this mission?”

  “Yes, exactly that,” Grim said, his chin held high. Ice wished he had the urge to smile. It seemed like an appropriate moment for it.

  “Very well.” The Prime Minister walked away, waving his hand at them in dismissal. “But when your investigation shows a mere malfunction or sheer incompetence, I’ll be making my recommendations to the emperor about your performance on this mission. And when this Alana Watson proves herself as useless as I’m guessing, he might take a dimmer view of all your efforts.”

  They left Prime Minister Hallow’s meeting chamber, and as soon as they were clear of the door, Storm turned to Ice. “If there was no sabotage on that ship, I’ll eat my own hair. And yours.”

  “Agreed. Interesting that he seems so sure, though.”

  Grim rubbed his chin. “Is interesting really the word?”

  Ice met his eyes, his suspicion against the Prime Minister even stronger now that it was clear Grim shared it.

  Storm looked between them, frowning. “Are you two saying that Hallow might have had something to do with the ship’s malfunctions?”

  Grim clapped Storm on the back. “We were only thinking of the possibility, Storm. You’re the one who said it.”

  “Only because it seems to be what you’re implying.”

  Ice put a hand on Storm’s other shoulder. “You’ve seriously never considered it?”

  “I’m considering it now,” he said, eyes narrowing. “The Prime Minister has always been conservative. His views on Arcana are not the mainstream. He almost sounds nostalgic when he speaks about it, as if Crimea would be better off if Arcana were still in place. But holding those views doesn’t make him a saboteur.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Ice agreed. “But it makes him a suspect.”

  “Agreed.” Storm squared his shoulders. “No matter who it was, we need evidence to prove it. I’m going to examine the ship with the investigators. Perhaps I can be of some use.”

  Grim nodded and began walking again. “Of course. But you’ll attend the banquet first.”

  “I can be much more useful if I’m working.”

  “Yes, but Emperor Chaos wants to honor us all, so we’re obliged to go.”

  Storm’s jaw muscles twitched. “Very well. But, as soon as I can get away, I’m going to figure out what was done to our ship.”

  Storm may not have been very good at first contact with humans, but with Crimean, he was formidable. Ice was grateful he was on their side.

  Ice left Grim and Storm to debate the possibilities and suspects. He wanted to have that discussion with them, but not now. He was in a hurry to find Alana.

  He’d been by her side while she was transferred from the Campania to the planet, and had even stood looking down at her for several minutes while she slept peacefully. He wondered if he’d done the right thing in bringing her there. He also noticed the way her nose twitched and how she smiled a little in her sleep. Ice found it surprisingly charming.

  Her rich, reddish-brown hair had fanned out behind her head and shoulders, and he’d touched it and her cheek before he left her to brief Emperor Chaos and then the prime minister.

  The emperor had been well-pleased, especially that they’d all made it back alive after so many problems. He was hopeful that Alana could help them, but regretted that they’d had to leave so soon. The investigation had been a mutual decision, each hoping for one separately. Emperor Chaos was determined to find out who had risked the lives of fellow Crimeans to stop their mission. He’d called it the highest treason, because not only did it risk their lives, but failure of the mission could risk the lives of everyone on the planet.

  The visit with the Prime Minister had taken a long time since he kept interrupting their brief and asking questions, berating them, scoffing at the “waste” and generally being as difficult as possible.

  By this time, Alana was at the palace and the banquet that Chaos was throwing in her honor. He wouldn’t get to speak to her privately, at least not for a while, but he found he longed to see her even with others around. The pull he felt toward her was curious. He tried to chalk it up to a new experience—she was the first human he’d spoken more than a few words to, after all—but deep down he knew it was more than that. What it was, exactly, he’d have to wait to find out. There were so many more important things to deal with.

  The banquet hall was teeming with people who ate, drank, and talked. It was nothing like the ancient banquets and parties they’d all heard about where people didn’t just dance, they frolicked. Instead of polite expressions meant to acknowledge one’s presence, there used to be laughter and merriment. Arcana had effectively killed that in the Crimean people along with the sadness and fear.

  Alana sat next to the emperor, who talked to her almost nonstop, except to take a bite or a drink. She looked around often, perhaps taking in her new environment. Ice wondered, maybe even hoped, that she was scanning the crowd for him.

  Their eyes met as he approached the table, and her face lit up with recognition. A friendly or at least familiar face in a crowd could do that, even to a Crimean. But when she smiled widely, Ice felt the strangest urge to mimic it. He almost had to clamp his teeth together to keep it from happening.

  Before he reached the table, Fire approached him with questions about the prime minister’s reaction. By the time that conversation ended, the emperor was addressing the crowd, calling Ice and the rest heroes for the mission. He hailed Alana as their savior and encouraged the people to eat and drink as they prepared for a new way of lif
e on Crimea.

  When his speech was finished, Ice finally rounded the table and approached Alana. He held out a hand in greeting. She gripped it tight, and her eyes seemed shinier than normal.

  “Alana,” he said. “I’m glad you fared so well on the journey.”

  “I’m glad to see you at all,” she said, a wide, genuine-looking smile on her face.

  “Emperor,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “Empress.”

  “Ice, sit here next to me.” The empress gestured to a chair next to her. “Enjoy the meal. You deserve the rest.”

  Grim, Storm, and Leaf came into the hall and made their way to them, and places were made for them. The Prime Minister arrived a few minutes later, but didn’t immediately sit. He roamed around the room with his small entourage, talking to citizens of nobility. Given the frowns on their faces, Ice guessed many of them shared his disdain of the mission and their new guest.

  Ice ate, glanced at Alana from time to time, and waited patiently for the festivities to be over.

  Chapter Eight

  Alana wished the emperor had seated Ice next to her, or even between them, instead of on the other side of him where it was difficult to talk.

  She’d been told the crew of the Campania were all fine, but she didn’t think she’d really believed it until Ice walked into the banquet hall. Her heart had pounded, and her throat got tight. She was so relieved and pleased to see him, she’d almost jumped out of her seat to give him a hug when he walked up to her and held out his hand.

  Alana had settled for squeezing it. She wasn’t sure what kind of stir a hug might cause with all the people in the room. Crimean weren’t huggers, among other things. She’d given a lot of thought to the story about Arcana that Ice told her before she’d passed out, and she’d even told the emperor she wasn’t sure she could really help at all.