to a murmuring voice, and then he announced, “The Earth President has agreed. Lissa has been appointed as Ambassador of Earth.”
Stephanie cheered. Ash translated for Shika and they both stepped forward to congratulate her. Even Shiro looked pleased, giving her an approving nod. Lissa was less sanguine about the whole thing.
“Now what?” she asked Mr. Piff, “What do I do exactly?”
“Well, your first action will be negotiating for a contract with the Galactic Trade Company,” he said briskly, “We’ll have to use your MTrans to get there—the Forty-Five is not equipped for surface landings.”
“What’s an MTrans?”
“Matter Transmitter;” her bot stated, “A line-of-sight transportation device using matter/energy conversion mechanics to disintegrate objects and bodies in one location for reintegration in another designated locality. See note at Transportation, Space.”
“Thank you, bot,” Lissa said politely.
“So that’s how Nask got us up here,” Stephanie whispered in her ear.
“Beam me up, Scottie!” Lissa joked.
With the direction of Octi at the navigation station, Lissa and her new crew trimmed the sunsails and laid in a course for the western seaboard of North America, and in a very short time they were hovering over downtown Los Angeles.
Lissa decided to bring Stephanie with her planetside, and left Shika in command of the Forty-Five with Ash on first watch. Having done quite a bit of sailing in the summers she spent with her dad, Lissa knew and was able to instruct her new crew a bit about sailing lingo—which the translator bot assured her was quite appropriate for space. Learning how exactly her new ship worked would have to wait until they returned.
Shiro was named as second watch, to assume the duty when they returned. He went below to visit Rasta as the two girls and Mr. Piff took up positions in front of the foremast where two small symbols on the deck marked the MTrans field.
Once again a pop mixed with a fizzle as the air around Lissa and the others gave a golden shimmer, and they found themselves standing outside the One-World Tower.
The Meeting
The tower was a dull gray cement fortress with large glass windows that stared out at them expressionlessly. The front doors slid smoothly open to the rat-a-tat of twenty OneWorld Security officers who surrounded the three visitors. Lissa flinched away and shared a terrified glance with Stephanie before a herald appeared in the doorway, ushering toward them so obsequiously that Lissa was made more uncomfortable by him than the OWSF.
She had heard the tales of kidnapping, bribery, and extortion for which the Security Force was so notorious, but there was no helping it now. They were gestured inside, and the guards fell in behind, the thud of their heavy boots an ominous rhythm that stalked the three down the hallway.
The herald, bowing so low Lissa wondered if his nose had an intimate acquaintance with his knees, led them through the spacious entrance into an elevator. The heavy scent of fragranced air freshener hung thickly in the corridors, and Stephanie coughed several times, her face a little green by the time they arrived at a pair of thick double doors.
The herald gave one last sweeping bow, murmured something conciliatory about their attire to his counterpart at the door, and left them. The man in livery there asked for their full names and jotted something down in quick jabs of his pen. With a last pitying glance at the state of Lissa’s jeans, Stephanie’s hair—which had become disheveled during their exploits—and a shocked glance at Mr. Piff’s state of undress, he announced in voluminous tones to the room within: “Miss Melissa Phelps, Ambassador Earth, and her retinue. And Mr. Piff, Second Mate of the 32nd Space Patrol.”
“Ah, very good!” A fleshy man hurried toward them. His fat fingers trembled slightly with excitement as he reached to shake Lissa’s hand, and his double chin bobbed up and down as he spoke. Upon his head perched the fuzzy black crown that showed him to be Mr. Bilderbus—President of Earth.
Behind the president stood a tall dark alien with long floppy ears and canine features. Introductions were made and Lissa instantly understood where the legends of werewolves and jackal-headed gods had originated on Earth: here was a species so prevalent in mythology that it was an easy connection to make.
Anubis, as he was called, was dressed in a pleated linen skirt and had a headdress that resembled a statue she had once seen on a mummy from ancient Egypt. Anubis himself confirmed this when she commented on his attire—so alike the Old Kingdom.
“Yeth,” he nodded, his lisp quite pronounced. “Excuse me. Some thoundth... er, sounds are hard for my people to pronounce...but I have been practicing,” He tried again, “Our people are known as the Jerz, which included the late Captain Nask. Imagine our dismay millennia ago when we realized Earth astronomers had Spotted our planet, watched us move about our daily lives, and believed us to be gods in the heavens. We watched Sadly as that primitive Earth civilization adopted our mannerisms and worshiped our form.” He shook his head, long canine ears flapping. “We finally invented the force screen that disguises us today as a barren world to put an end to the debacle.”
“Which planet are you from, did you say?” Stephanie asked, puzzled.
“Your people know it as Marth—excuse me ... Mars.” Anubis smiled at her astonishment.
“An octopus from Jupiter’s moon, werewolves from Mars...” Lissa shook her head. “Takes a while for it all to sink in, you know?”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Mr. Piff said, speaking up for the first time. “Your people will have to confront that their perception of the universe is based on a series of carefully contrived lies.”
Lissa turned to Mr. Piff just in time to see Anubis give him an almost-imperceptible shake of his head, and thereafter, for all her prodding, he refused to say anything more.
A waiter in a smart black suit and apron circled around with canapés, and the Earth president was just commenting on how glad he was that Lissa and Stephanie could make it when another knock came at the entrance. The double doors opened a second time and the herald announced His Holiness, the High Priest of Jesters, Timothy Rocksquatter.
Lissa and Stephanie turned in unison. A large man stepped heavily into their view, his every footfall accompanied by a ragged wheezing breath, as though the effort to move his enormous girth forward were a tax on his straining lungs. The room seemed to grow smaller to Lissa as she watched him edge forward, fat trembling on his limbs and waist with every step. He loomed over the two girls. Out of the corner of her eye, Lissa saw Mr. Piff clench his fists tightly.
Timothy Rocksquatter was dressed in a skin-tight checkered outfit that showed every roll and fold of his enormous girth. Dribbles of spilled food splattered his front and the cuffs of his long sleeves were yellow at the edges. He wore a squashed three-pronged hat to signify his rank as High Jester, its pointed spikes drooping low to quiver above his brow. Lissa felt her stomach turn as a fetid stench wafted off of him like a rancid hamburger she had once thrown out when she forgot to empty her lunchbox on Friday night and it sat all weekend.
She drew back, placing her foot slightly right to put Stephanie firmly behind her. Rocksquatter leaned forward slowly. She could see his eyes flicker to Stephanie, as though he could sense the weakness that made her pale with fright. It was easy to understand in that awful moment
