Up until this point, Bower had thought of the brilliant red appendages reaching out from the core as tentacles, but in the light of day they looked more like brightly-colored blades of flax, only that analogy was too organic, perhaps flexible blades of colored steel or fiberglass would have been a better description. To her surprise, as they flexed they changed not only their length, but their width and thickness, adapting themselves from fine, feeler-like structures to blades that swayed like ribbons in the breeze. Stiff spikes supported the creature’s weight, stabbing back and forth like crab’s feet.
Elvis stepped down, helping the alien out of the truck.
Soft red blades enveloped the right side of his body, wrapping around him as though the creature were clinging to him more for security than anything else.
As nervous as Jameson was, Bower could see the alien was even more apprehensive. Having been harassed, corralled, fired upon, injured and threatened during its fleeting time on Earth, Stella must have felt Elvis was the only native she could trust. The only one for whom trust was mutual. Even Bower couldn’t let her guard down completely with the alien creature, but Elvis had no reservations.
Bower hoped Elvis remembered her warning, not to read too much from his own emotional responses into the reactions of the alien, and yet he clearly felt the need to protect Stella. Perhaps it was the change of environment. In their dark, gloomy dungeon, the factory floor felt like her domain. Out here, she was on his turf.
An eerie silence fell over the courtyard. Smithy crouched down, her hand still over her mouth. Like the other soldiers, she was in shock.
“Green light,” Elvis said.
“Green light,” the creature replied, still using Bower’s voice. Was that a play to be inclusive of her, Bower wondered, or was the creature simply being consistent? Regardless, Bower walked over beside the alien as naturally as she could. Despite her reservations, she wanted to show the other soldiers there was nothing to fear.
Jameson looked at Bower as the alien’s tone of voice registered with him. The shock on his face was palpable. Bower raised her hands in a gesture that indicated she had no more idea about all this than he did.
The various US soldiers around the courtyard nervously checked their surroundings, clearly thinking about any possible hostile move. For all they knew, this creature was some invincible, acid-dripping monster from another planet, and they weren’t too far from the truth, thought Bower.
Jameson, though, ever the professional, seized the moment and called out.
“All right, enough standing around. What’s the matter? Haven’t you seen an alien before? Smithy, get that gate shut. Jones, Marshall and Davies, if you’re on the wall pulling guard duty you need to face the other way. And Elvis… Stop showing off and take our guest inside.”
Elvis grinned. “Yes, sir.”
Smithy didn’t move. Jameson tapped her on the shoulder. Slowly, she got up and went over to the gate.
Elvis walked toward the main building. Stella followed. She was never more than a few feet from him. It was clear she wasn’t going to let him out of her sight until she felt safe. Bower followed them.
“You three,” Jameson said, coming up behind them and speaking with gravitas. “You have some explaining to do.”
Well, thought Bower, Jameson took that quite well, all things considered. And she loved his use of three, as though somehow the alien owed him an explanation. In reality, it was only Elvis that was answerable to Jameson, but that didn’t bother him in the slightest. She turned back, expecting a grumpy look on his face but he was grinning as he came up beside her.
Jameson shook his head, saying, “If it was going to be anyone, it would be Elvis.” That made Bower laugh. He was right. Was there anyone better suited to introduce Earth’s culture to an alien species than Elvis?
As they climbed the broad marble steps leading up to the portico in front of the embassy, Bower watched to see how Stella negotiated this as an obstacle. Her spindly feet, so reminiscent of a sea urchin, made a smooth transition from sharp, pointed spears to curved blades with some flex in them. They slapped the ground softly, wrapping themselves over the uneven surfaces, providing her with some spring in her step.
Bullet holes marred the walls. Burns and scorch marks spoke of a violent struggle. Patches of dried blood on one of the low walls indicating where the wounded took cover during the vicious firefight.
Jameson caught up with Elvis, directing him to one side. He was surprisingly relaxed given their unusual company.
“Why couldn’t you have brought home a cat or a dog like everyone else?”
Elvis laughed.
“What the hell am I supposed to do with an alien, Elvis? Honestly, do you think about these things before you do them? Shit, can you imagine the paperwork?”
And they both laughed.
Bower wasn’t too familiar with the various branches within the US military, but she could tell several of the soldiers staring nervously at them were either navy or air force from their blue uniforms.
“At ease, gentlemen” Jameson said, and it took Bower a second or two to realize he was joking. It was Elvis and his cocky smile that gave it away.
They entered the reception area and walked down a long corridor. The white pristine walls had fresh gouges and the odd bloodstain on them. Jameson led the way, with Elvis following him with the creature immediately behind. Bower brought up the rear with two rather awkward soldiers providing what she figured was security. They were carrying M4 rifles slung over their shoulders and weren’t in anyway threatening.
Jameson led them into a cafeteria. The tables and chairs had been used to barricade one end of the room overlooking the courtyard. A couple of the tables had been put back on the barren linoleum, but most of them still lay in chaos by the windows. Jameson gestured to the table and chairs.
“Lieutenant McCallister is on his way,” one of the trailing soldiers said, standing guard by the door.
“Well, he’s going to love this,” Jameson replied.
Stella wheeled around the room as Elvis and Bower sat at the table. She was inquisitive. Bower could see her probing overturned chairs, and the shattered remains of a vending machine with cans of coke and candy bars strewn across the ground, but she was most interested in the serving benches with their stainless steel tops.
There were two jugs full of water on the table, along with a bunch of paper cups.
“No coffee, I’m afraid,” Jameson said, pouring water into the cups and handing them to Elvis and Bower. “Are you hungry? Can we get you some food?”
Bower nodded, drinking the water quickly and getting a refill.
One of the soldiers by the door slipped carefully along the wall and into the kitchen to get them something to eat.
“And what about our friend?” Jameson asked. Bower noted that Jameson kept the table between him and the alien as the creature moved around the room. Bower and Elvis were content to sit there comfortably with the alien rummaging around the cafeteria, Jameson was still unnerved by her and didn’t sit down until Stella settled.
“She likes water,” Bower said, trying to be helpful.
Elvis took the glass jug over to the creature. He placed it on the stainless steel bench, saying, “Are you thirsty?”
The creature stopped and began examining the jug. Bower was fascinated to watch as a stream of bugs raced up and down the red blades touching briefly at the jug. Before her eyes, the glass jug appeared to dissolve from the top down as the creature assimilated both the glass and the water at once.