We walked through the large building’s front doors, which slid to the side as we stepped near them. It reminded me of the large orange box store I had in my hometown, and the comforting smell of wood and soil reached my nose.
There was a pick-up counter to the left, and we approached, waiting in line behind a large man talking to an employee.
“What do you mean, you don’t have any more four-by-eight cedar left? I need twenty to finish my job,” the burly man said, his voice rising.
“Sir, if you’ve noticed, we’re on New Spero, and our tree farms aren’t at full maturation yet. We’ll be happy to substitute oak in place. We still have oak.” The woman was keeping her cool but looked like she’d had about enough of the man berating her.
“Fine, but I’ll be talking to the council about this. Gave away all the damned cedar, even though I’d requisitioned it last month.” He turned from her and looked in our direction. “Can you believe this?”
So much for a utopia. I just shrugged, and we made our way to the woman. “I’d ask how your day’s going, but I think we know,” Mary said to the lady. “We sent our list in yesterday and are here to pick it up.”
“It’s true. You are here.” The forty-something-year-old woman’s eyes grew twice their size, and she nearly squealed. Her name was Tammy, according to the nametag. “Mary Lafontaine and Dean Parker. I heard from Sally that you were here, but I didn’t believe it. I thought it might be some propaganda to keep the people hopeful. But by golly, you’re here in the flesh. You both look so…amazing. Are the rumors true? You got married at an alien court and had to offer your firstborn to their leader to escape?”
I barked out a laugh, and Mary nudged me, suppressing her own laughter. “I have no idea where you’re getting that from, but I assure you…we only have to ‘lend’ our baby to the king for a year.”
Tammy’s eyes grew even larger, and I thought for a moment that they would pop out of her head. “Oh my God!”
“Tammy, relax. She was just kidding,” I assured the frantic woman. “Where did you hear that crazy story?”
She pulled out a stack of what looked like magazines. “From these,” she said, sliding them out like a deck of cards. They weren’t magazines; they were comics.
I grabbed one and read the title. “The Survivors of Earth” was scrawled across the top of the cover in black lettering. A silver ship chasing a dozen smaller, clearly made-up vessels across space, with a gray planet underneath, was the cover image. Red beams fired from the silver ship.
I thumbed it open and saw the artist’s rendition of Mary in a tight body suit. Her figure was modified to the ideals of a teenage boy, and now she did laugh when she saw it. The artist’s Dean looked older than I was; silver streaked the edges of his dark hair. The artwork was good, if not a little exaggerated.
“Can I take these? I’ll bring them back.” I asked, getting a nod from Tammy.
“Only if you sign them after,” she said.
“Sure. Oh, and who makes them?” I asked, looking for a name.
“Leonard. He works at the permits office. He started making these before we came here. Now he has tens of thousands of downloads a month for each new issue. He only prints a few, since paper has become harder to come by.”
“Thanks, Tammy. Now, where can we get our supplies?”
TWELVE
“You guys knew about these?” I asked, waving one of the comics in front of Nat and Magnus. Little Dean made a grab for it, his sticky boy hands trying to reach the paper, but I managed to pull it up in time.
“We did. I’ve had more important things on my mind to talk to you about than comics.” Magnus twisted the cap off a beer and passed me one. “Have you seen issue seven? That’s where we meet. They got it all wrong, but I’m amazed there’s even a passing reference to the reality. Leonard must have had a source on the inside who knew some of our real story.”
“The one where Slate blows up an entire planet was good. How dare that virus try to spread to humans.” Mary grabbed the bottle of red wine and poured herself and Nat a glass.
“Quite the imagination. The stuff happening on Earth, was that true?” I asked.
“Some of it. It was getting bad. The forced treaties and weapons agreements…things got out of hand. We needed to separate ourselves from it. Earth will never be home to us any longer.” Magnus put his arm around Natalia, who gave him a loving gaze.
“Mag, they may still need our help,” she said, ever the caring woman. She inspired me to be better.
“What are we going to do if the Bhlat are there? Fight them? Our fleet isn’t ready for that. If what Dean said is true, and they’ve mined all those worlds, enslaving and killing entire races, then we may be doomed. I’m going to enjoy the food tonight, have a few beers, spend time with my loved ones, and do it all again tomorrow, until we can’t anymore.”
Natalia took a step back, putting herself between her son on his chair and her husband. “You listen to me. If they need our help, we’ll help them. All of this around us isn’t real if the Bhlat are out there threatening it. I will not stand by while my son’s life is in question. And neither will you.” Her pointer finger pushed into his large chest.
He raised his hands in supplication. “I hear you. Okay. I’m with you, but if it comes to it, you’re staying here, and Dean and I will go kick their asses. We’ve done it before and will do it again.”
“Don’t you dare leave me out of this ass-kicking. I’ve been thinking about it since the first time they chased me on that space station, almost killing me. I’m in too.” Mary stuck her glass in the air, and I hesitantly clinked it, along with Magnus and Nat.
The last thing I wanted was to fight the Bhlat, especially with Mary by my side. I wondered if there was a way I could stow her away with Suma, somewhere safe and protected. The Shandra. My mind clicked, and a piece of the puzzle fell into place.
“I have an idea.”
The doorbell rang as the first guests arrived. My friends looked at me, waiting, and when the bell rang again, Magnus stuck a finger in the air. “This conversation isn’t over. Dean, I love it when you have big ideas. It usually means a win for our side.”
The sun beat down on us, and Maggie barked as I threw the ball down the yard. Mary beckoned me from beside the garden, her sun hat covering her face from this angle. I could tell she was excited by her posture.
Maggie ran to my feet, dropping the ball with another bark. I tossed the ball toward Mary, jogging after it while Maggie ran full throttle, ears flopping in the air.
“Look how well it’s coming along,” I said, standing beside Mary, who was beaming at the large assortment of sprouted greens coming from the twenty-by-forty-foot patch of garden. Some food like lettuce was already being used on a daily basis, and others were just growing, their cycle a lot longer from germination to harvest. The last few weeks had been a lot of work but had gone quickly.
“We should be able to feed our wedding guests with our own food,” Mary said.
Maggie dropped the ball at my feet, and I threw it as far as I could; the excited cocker raced after it. The ball bounced off the ground and she hopped, trying to catch it in her mouth but failing. She lay down with it in the cool shade of a New Spero tree, panting heavily.
The sound of a vehicle racing down the road carried to us, dust kicking up as it drove up our driveway.
“Are you expecting anyone?” I asked Mary, who shook her head in return.
We walked around the back deck, toward the front of the house. The instant I saw Magnus, I knew something was wrong. His face was dark, a scowl shoving deep lines in his forehead.