Jack Sheridan took a deep, wet breath. He could almost taste the salt of the ocean in the Norfolk air. He could taste the humidity. He stepped away from the black Lincoln town car and stared at the dilapidated house in front of him. What had he done to deserve this assignment?
Probably sneaking off to the noodle shop with Zeta. That had really torqued off his boss. The fact that he didn't get into trouble with his boss's superiors torqued him off even more.
"Hey, mister," a voice called. Jack turned. Three young African American men were approaching him. The oldest looked to be in his early twenties and his hair was cut in a short military cut. The other two looked to be in their late teens. They all wore faded but clean blue jeans and T-shirts.
"Yes, can I help you?" Jack asked.
They stopped a respectful distance away and looked at him. "You that guy from the TV?" one said.
The question startled Jack. He was not used to being "that guy from the TV" yet, if he would ever get used to it. Junior diplomats slogging their way up the state department ladder rarely got on the news. Even senior diplomats and ambassadors only got on the news occasionally, and they were only recognizable to a few hard core news junkies. "Jack Sheridan, State Department," Jack affirmed.
He would have to get used to this. Six weeks ago Jack had been tapped for the team that dealt with the Consortium. He was the junior most aide on the project, little more than a gofer for the senior diplomats. It didn't matter, he was one of ten Americans who had been to the Consortium's base ship.
Four were nameless secret service men. Four were senior diplomats, stodgy old men specializing in things like linguistics, international treaty law and cultural studies. Jack and Barry were the two junior diplomats.
Jack's counter part on the ship was a humanoid alien named Zeta, also the junior most diplomat on her team. She was a head shorter than him, had bluish skin and tentacle-like appendages that hung from her cheek. When she casually suggested that she knew a good noodle shop on one of the civilian decks, Jack hadn't given it a second thought. It had nearly created an international incident when one of the more paranoid secret service men freaked about where they were. The CIA saw it as a great coup and pumped him for every detail. It had made Jack, temporarily, a media darling. The first earthsider to see the civilian side of the Consortium. And they were some damn fine noodles.
"Mister Jack, Sir?" the older man said. "You think we are really at peace with them?" he nodded towards the sky as he said. "Or we gonna fight again?"
"I think we are at peace," he said. He could see twin concerns reflected in all three faces. Norfolk, like many cities, had few industries that did not depend, directly or indirectly, on military spending. The older looked to be military, the younger two probably had few other job offers waiting. First on their minds was whether or not they'd have to fight the Consortium. Second was if we did not, if we bowed to their dictate and gave up "imperial" ambitions overseas, what future awaited then?
"After what they did to us?" one of the younger said, "just gonna be friends?"
Jack groaned inwardly. He knew the truth, and eventually so would they. But he wasn't going to spill the beans on that. "Considering," he said, "we had virtually no casualties."
"And that princess?"
"She seems to genuinely want peace. I think cooperation is possible," he said.
They nodded.
"I was there," the older man comment. "In Turkey. We were sent to an airbase on the northern border of Syria. We all loaded up in this armored transport to cross the border. I was so hyped, scared," he admitted. "Thought the bombs and shooting would start any second. Then the transport just cut out and rolled to a stop. Before I could even wonder what happened, I passed out and woke up on their ship, a prisoner. Two days, then dropped in Colorado, free again. No explanation, nothing."
"They explained," Jack said. "They didn't want us in Syria. Said it was their prerogative."
The men snorted.
"I know, I know," Jack said, guessing where this conversation was going. "They don't understand the background. They haven't dealt with how many bloody civil wars in that region."
"So what you doing here?" one of them asked.
Jack was spared answering by the appearance of a young boy of maybe nine or ten. He was gangly, with short dark hair. "Hey, hey, you the guy whose taking us?" he asked.
"You must be James," Jack said, holding his hand out.
"Yup, James Walker," he said.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the three men react to the name Walker. They knew suddenly, what he was doing here. "Walker," one of the men muttered.
"I'm going to see my mom today," the boy told the men. "And the president. Maybe even that princess."
Jack chuckled at the boy's priorities. "I think maybe you shouldn't wear your pajamas to the conference, though," he said.
James looked down. "I know," he said. "Grandma bought me a new suit and everything."
"James!" a girl's voice shouted from the door of the house, "Grandma says get in here." The boy darted off.
Jack said a quick goodbye to the men and followed after the boy. Dana Walker, mother to the war hero, Cheyenne Walker, was a heavy set woman with scraggly graying hair. She was pulling the tags off a discount boys suit. The girl, Mackenzie, according to his dossier, was already dressed in a sun dress.
He introduced himself and shook Dana's hand. "We are almost ready," she said, "but I haven't had a chance to get them breakfast."
Jack bit back a groan. He could see the hopeful look in her eye. She's probably the type to milk every interaction for all it's worth. He sighed. He did have a small amount of petty cash. "We can stop at a drive through," he said. "But we do need to get going." It was going to be a long drive back to Washington.
#####
Fox followed Nara across the hall and into "gym room #3" or so it was labeled on the map. He tried not to think about how she looked today. She was in her usual tight fitting tank top and equally tight fitting shorts. The outfit displayed her toned body all too well.
Fox couldn't afford to show how it affected him, because his own outfit was equally revealing. Besides, he wasn't her type.
The Princess Sarasvat had proven herself, in the few short weeks she's been here, to be something of a media darling. She always had a quip or line handy and the news loved to repeat them.
The current clip that was making the rounds was short piece of banter between Sarasvat and one of her Kurgara bodyguards. Marzana was tall, thin and ropy. Like many of the Consortium citizen they had seen, she had an olive complexion that defied easy categorizing into any Earth racial category. She had short dark hair in a style that reminded Fox of the punk rock star Grace Jones.
Sarasvat and her entourage had been touring the area of New York around the hotel that was her temporary diplomatic headquarters. A small shop selling old DVD's and CD's had bins set out on the sidewalk. Sarasvat had fished out an old science fiction classic, Mars Needs Women. With a smile she rounded on Marzana, "how did your reputation beat you all the way to a new galaxy?"
With a cheeky smile Marzana had said, in broken English. "Marzana doesn't need women, women need Marzana."
It confirmed the impression many had from day one, that despite what they claimed about having no words for homosexuality, the Kurgara were butch lesbians. And Nara was a Kurgara.
"Let us stretch a bit then get started, eh?" Nara was saying in front of Fox. Gym room #3 was no larger than any of the rooms he had seen so far on the ship, maybe fifteen feet square. The floor and walls were cushioned and dark.
Nara began to do deep squats, while swinging her arms. Fox kept his mind off her by going through his own warm up routine. "We should spar first," she told him. "See each other styles in action. When we know what's similar or different we can decide what we want to focus on."
He nodded his agreement and faced off against her. They sparred a long time. She was fast and good, but her style of fighting wasn't so different from the jujitsu that Fox had trained in and he felt he held his own. He caught her in a hip throw, but she rolled out gracefully. She managed to catch him in an arm lock, but he'd recently added Brazilian Jujitsu to his repertoire and he knew a counter move.
"Our styles are similar," he said after some time.
"I am not surprised," she replied. "The human body only moves in certain ways. You have some good close in moves. That's useful on a ship or station. Let's practice close takedowns, okay?"
They trained nearly an hour. Fox, still recovering from radiation sickness, found it refreshing to push his body but exhausting, too. Nara threw him and let himself flop on the ground, comfortably wore out. Nara straddled his chest. "You are a good fighter, for a man," she joked, leaning into him and staring down with her warm brown eyes. "I like that."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Fox said. "Especially considering how high of regard they have for you Kurgara."
"Of course I had all my nerve and muscle enhancements switched off."
"Umm, you did?"
She leaped lightly to her feet. Then she back flipped into one wall, kicked off and bounced off all four walls in less than a heartbeat before landing again. "Kurgara don't carry weapons, we are weapons."
"Wow! But what if you run up against something that can't be beat with bare fists?"
"We are equipped for that as well." She gestured at the tattoo work on her arm. It was a long blade, somewhere between a knife and a sword. "Quicksilver tattoo," she said. She ripped it off her arm.
"Holy fuck," Fox spat out, looking at the wicked blade now in her hands.
She smacked her arms together. There was a flash and somehow the blade was a tattoo again.
"How do I get one of those?" Fox asked.
"That kind of biotech is a closely guarded Kurgara secret."
"And only women become Kurgara?"
"You could become a woman," she told him, "and then ask to join Kurgara."
"I thought Kurgara were the other way," he ventured.
"What other way?"
"They were women who wanted to become men."
"No, that's Minyati Prakitta," she replied.
"Huh?"
"Literally one who makes their essence like the other," she explained. "If you have female parts but don't want to be female, so you have a doctor make you male parts, that's Minyati Prakitta. Or you are female, but you have male parts and have the healer take them away."
"And Kurgara?"
"When we join, they put something here," she put her hand on her abdomen. "I don't have menses. I don't get pregnant. Not a woman in that way. We foreswear any family obligations, at least while we serve."
"And when you're done?" Fox asked.
"Amongst ourselves we say there are three kinds of Kurgara," she explained. "Some will retire someday and have the healers make them males. Some will retire have the healers return their female functions, live as woman. I am the third kind."
"Yes?"
"I will die with biotech in my belly. Always a Kurgara."
"No sex?"
She stopped and gave him an arched look. "What does being Kurgara have to do with sex?"
Fox blushed. "I just thought, your biotech..."
"Keeps me from getting pregnant," she made a face, "but it doesn't stop me from having sex."
"That Marzana...I saw a clip on the news the other day about her and women," he said.
"To each his own," Nara said, "but I don't see what she sees in soft things. I like a partner with a little muscle you know? Someone who can hold their own."
"But you are... we say lesbian, is that word right?" he asked.
She paused. "The translator says uncertain translation â women who have sex with women?"
"Yes."
She shrugged. "Can be. I have dated fellow Kurgara and I like Dunlapa," this time it was Fox's translator collared that beeped and said "uncertain translation" followed by "butch lesbian." "but I like strong men, too. Anyway, we need to shower. Can't miss the big press conference. Not when we are working it." She threw him a towel and disappeared into a small shower and changing room.
Not a lesbian then? Fox caught himself smiling at the thought. He shoved the notion down. She was still, an alien, a co-worker, possibly an enemy some day if peace didn't work out. Captain Lannister had been clear about how he felt about fraternizing. In short, there were a million other reasons this woman was off limits. Best to keep that in mind.