“What
the hell does she think she looks like?”
Helen
Anderson gritted her teeth as she heard Graham behind her, his
velvety-posh voice as petulant as a toddler deprived of a
toy...a toy he hadn’t even wanted until someone else took it.
The
last thing Helen needed right now was a cosy conversation with
her ex-stepfather. But it was her job to placate all the guests
at this party, even the weasely slimeballs, so she pasted on a
tight smile and turned to face him anyway. “You’re talking about
Mum, I presume?”
“Obviously.” Graham glared through the crowd. “Doesn’t she even
realize what a fool she’s making of herself?”
Helen
looked across the room to where her mother stood, resplendent in
a slinky black silk dress, with diamonds sparkling around her
neck and the Ambassador’s arm tightly curved around her waist.
“I guess not,” she said.
“It’s
not even human, for God’s sake!” He gestured with his champagne
glass; Helen skipped back just in case, but only a few drops
slipped over the edge. “What does she think they’re all saying
about her?”
That
she learned her lesson about human men from you?
Helen thought. But she made her voice as soothing as if she were
talking to any of the lobbyists who swarmed her office every
day. “The Ambassador has been very—”
“And I
mean, I don’t know about you, but I’m not at all sure that thing
is even male! Because the way it looks to me—”
“The
Andrassii can choose their appearance, and their genders,” Helen
said. “And for hir trip to Earth, the Ambassador chose—”
“To be
a woman? Jesus Christ.” Graham flung the champagne down his
throat. “It’s unbelievable. She’s dating a lesbian alien. What’s
next?”
“At
least it’s a step up,” Helen muttered.
“I
mean—what did you just say?”
“The
Prime Minister is signalling me,” Helen lied, and slipped away.
She tilted her head at the nearest drinks server, who nodded in
comprehension; Graham would find only non-alcoholic beverages
being offered to him for the rest of the evening. He might kick
up a sulk, but at least that way there’d be slightly less chance
of the MP from Slough starting a fistfight with the party’s
alien Guest of Honour by the end of the evening. Not that it
wouldn’t be fun to watch the Ambassador take him down with
high-powered Andrassii technology, but still...
“There
you are!” Deceptively soft, strong fingers closed around Helen’s
arm. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Have you heard what
they’re all saying?”
Helen
sighed as she turned to face her cousin. “Bella, I’ve just had
to cope with Graham slagging off everything about Mum and her
new relationship. Do I really need to hear more gossip right
now?”
“You
need to hear this.” Bella lowered her voice to an intimate
murmur, just barely audible over the noise of the crowd and the
swing band in the corner of the ballroom. “The rumour going
round is that the P.M.’s planning to make an announcement at the
end of this party.”
“And?”
Helen kept her face blandly curious. Family or not, Bella was
one of the most notorious journalists in London.
“They
say...” Bella drew out the pause, her dark gaze avid. “He’s
signed an agreement with the Andrassii to supply human women for
breeding stock.”
“That
is ridiculous!” Helen’s tension broke into sheer relief. She
might not have been trusted with the details of the Prime
Minister’s upcoming announcement, but at least she knew better
than that. “Bella, you can’t have believed that one. Can you
really imagine—”
“Why
not? After all...” Bella tilted her elegant chignon in the
direction of Helen’s mother. “Just look at Auntie Jane.”
“What
about her?” Helen tightened her grasp on her own champagne
glass. “You can hardly imagine the Ambassador wants her as
breeding stock. For one thing, she’s too old, and for another,
as Graham so helpfully pointed out—”
“You
mean the fact she’s a dyke?”
“Bella...”
“The
Andrassii get to choose their gender,” Bella said. “I wouldn’t
be at all surprised if they could choose other things too, like
fertility methods. And anyway, the Ambassador may be safely
female now, but once it’s got Auntie Jane safely back on the
homeworld—”
“For
heaven’s sake,” Helen said. “She isn’t going anywhere. She’s
having a very good time right now, but there’s no question of
her leaving Earth, or—”
“Are
you sure about that?” Bella cocked one perfectly-plucked
eyebrow. “Because from what she’s hinted at to me...”
“That
is perfectly absurd,” Helen said. “And I have to go mingle. I am
at work, you know.”
“Aren’t
we all, darling?” Bella smirked and faded into the crowd.
Helen
took a deep breath, and readjusted the smile on her face. The
click of cameras was a constant background noise; she wouldn’t
be surprised if Bella had had a photographer clicking away
during their own family chat. The last thing the Prime Minister
needed now was for any bad publicity to come out of his
office...especially after tonight’s mysterious announcement was
finally made.
One
more hour.
She
swept the room with her gaze. The American ambassador and his
wife were chatting amiably with Rupert Murdoch in one corner;
the Mayor of London was puffing his chest out importantly as he
held forth to three young female political aides fifteen feet
away; the editors-in-chief of The Sun, The Independent
and The Daily Telegraph were all smiling toothily at each
other over their champagne glasses. No fires to put out at the
moment, thank God.
Helen
caught the Prime Minister’s gaze and, at his infinitesimal nod,
started to make her way across the crowded room. As she weaved
through the clustered groups, she caught fragments of
conversation.
“...amazing trade opportunities with the Andrassii homeworld. My
stockholders are in bliss at the whole idea. If you can just
imagine—”
“...hear they can change genders in mid-act, ha—”
“...the
American people will want some very clear answers if England
makes any attempt to monopolize—”
“...but
the sex itself, darling, is supposed to be just unimaginable—I
mean, my God, just look at Janie Anderson, she looks like the
cat who ate the canary, and everyone knows she—”
Helen
set her teeth together with a click and sped up to escape the
last gossiping group. But she was as polished and cool as ever
as she arrived at Hamish McAlistair’s side. “Prime Minister,”
she murmured.
“Ah,
Helen. You’ve met Mister Kalick before, of course?”
“Of
course,” Helen said, and smiled with professional warmth at the
Andrassii diplomat. A male one, this time; he’d accompanied the
Ambassador in her voyage but made different personal choices
about how to relate to the humans on Earth. Unless they had made
the decision together to attack both fronts, male and female
alike? It was the kind of question that was impossible to ask.
His
formal outfit mimicked the shape of a tux, but shifted colours
in a constant psychedelic whirl that made her head hurt. Helen
forced herself not to look away. “I hope you’re enjoying the
party, Mister Kalick?”
“Of
course,” the alien said. His voice was deep and rasping, hitting
a pitch that sounded indefinably but inescapably wrong:
not quite human. “It is very kind of your Prime Minister to
organize such an event for our gratification.”
“Well,
it’s all Helen’s doing,” McAlistair said heartily. “She’s the
best in the business, you know. Knows how to get all the right
people everywhere, and how to make them happy.”
“A
talent indeed,” Kalick murmured, and Helen tried not to wonder
whether the dryness in his voice was sarcasm or only the way his
tongue naturally pronounced the English words. She would leave
it to her mother to think about alien tongues, thanks very much.
“I have
to go pacify the Americans now,” the Prime Minister said. “But
if I can leave you in Helen’s, ha, capable hands...”
“A
pleasure,” Kalick said, and Helen’s smile stiffened.
She
didn’t let it drop, though, even as she sent curses after Hamish
McAlistair’s retreating back. There was no polite way to say:
Not every woman in my family wants to try out alien sex,
despite the clear implications in the Prime Minister’s voice.
While she was still searching for an acceptable alternative,
Kalick said,
“I
haven’t seen you often with your mother.”
“I’ve
been very busy,” Helen said. “My work—”
“Is
demanding, I can see.” The thin, snakelike green irises of his
eyes, so disconcerting in his otherwise human face, darkened as
he looked at the room around them. “You are very loyal to your
Prime Minister.”
“It’s
my job,” Helen said, and then laughed to try to soften the
statement. Her fingers clenched and unclenched on the stem of
her champagne glass. She heard the click of cameras as she
tilted her head back to meet Kalick’s gaze. Do your job,
woman. She’d dealt with outright rudeness a hundred times at
other parties; she could deal with one polite alien now. But she
felt sweat bead on the back of her neck, despite the comfortable
temperature in the room.
He
regarded her gravely. “So you are not unhappy about tonight’s
announcement, then?”
“The
Prime Minister hasn’t shared the details of tonight’s
announcement with me,” Helen said. And then, at the surprised
arch of his narrow eyebrows: “I’m not a politician myself,
Mister Kalick. I only work for one.”
“But—”
“I
trust the Prime Minister’s judgment.”
“And
your mother’s?”
“I beg
your pardon?”
“Do you
trust your mother’s judgment?”
“Of
course I do,” Helen said. She slid a glance across the room to
where her mother was feeding the Ambassador a strawberry with
her fingers, while at least a dozen cameras clicked. Helen
restrained herself from wincing, with an effort. “I am delighted
that she and the Ambassador have found so much in common.”
“Not
everyone is,” Kalick said.
“Well,
of course some people will always resist change,” Helen said
lightly. “I’m afraid that is rather a human trait. I hope you
and the Ambassador won’t be put off by a few unfortunate—”
“I am
speaking of my own people now.” Kalick’s voice sharpened. “You
may be surprised to know that forming relationships here was not
part of our plan.”
“No?”
Helen blinked. “Well, I suppose love can’t be—”
“It is
the fault of your gender,” Kalick said.
“What?”
He
gestured down. “We chose human genders before we came to Earth,
but all we had was news broadcasts, sitcoms, official reports.
No one told us how these genders changed things.”
“I...”
Helen trailed off. “But you do have genders back on the...back
on your own world, don’t you? You can choose—”
“Andrassii genders are not the same as yours,” Kalick said. His
tone was unchanged, but his eyes narrowed; even Helen could read
the back off signal. There was a pause, just long enough
for Helen to think about changing the subject. Then he said,
“When we serve as ambassadors on such expeditions to new worlds,
we like to take on as much of the native physiology as possible,
for reasons of courtesy.”
“Courtesy,” Helen repeated. “Ah...yes. I understand.”
“But
the hormones you secrete—these different genders—” He waved
his hands. “The Ambassador chose to be female based on our
research into your customs.”
“Really?” Helen almost laughed. Perhaps she’d let herself take
too many sips of her champagne. Had he talked to McAlistair like
this? No wonder the Prime Minister had hurried away with such
alacrity. Well, the hell with it, she might as well be honest.
“But surely, Mister Kalick, you can see from looking around us
how few women are in power here, even now—the number of female
presidents or commanders—”
“Ah,
yes, very small.” Thank God, the alien didn’t seem offended. “We
did see that. But perhaps you haven’t noticed something more
important for our purposes. What do females do?”
“Ah...”
Helen looked across the room. Beautiful women leaning into the
politically powerful men they talked to, women laughing
appreciatively as they listened to the stories of the men around
them... She said, “You may be getting a rather biased view of
women from the circles you’re moving in, Mister Kalick. In a
more ordinary life—”
“They
form relationships,” Kalick said. “They charm, they invite, they
glue together social bonds. They bring people together, just as
you have done tonight with this party you’ve arranged. You, Miss
Anderson, not your Prime Minister.”
“Well...”
“It is
ideal for an ambassador who wishes to bring about important
economic and political agreements.”
“Okay,”
Helen said. “I’ll buy that. I guess.” She took a swig of her
previously-untouched champagne, suddenly reckless. Why not have
a drink? There was no way she’d get through this conversation
without one. “So what’s the problem?”
“We
didn’t expect that the hormonal need for relationships would be
quite so strong,” Kalick said, and narrowed his eyes into an
unmistakable glare at the Ambassador and Jane’s mother. Cameras
clicked manically around them, capturing the moment.
Perhaps
he’d had too many drinks himself, to be this impolitic in
public. Helen eyed the champagne in his hand, thinking of
Graham. Was this the Andrassii version of an alcoholic sulk?
Christ, what if Kalick been romantically partnered with the
Ambassador before their arrival on Earth? Time to signal the
drinks servers, certainly. Should she alert the Ambassador, too?
Or—
As if
she’d summoned him by thinking of him, Graham’s aggrieved voice
cut through her thoughts. “Look here,” he said, and tapped
Kalick on the arm. “I have a question or two for you.”
Oh,
hell.
“Mister Kalick,” Helen said smoothly. “May I introduce you to
Graham Masters, our MP from Slough? And...” She looked as
meaningfully as she could into the snakelike eyes. “My
ex-step-father.”
“Ah!”
Kalick brightened. “You were married to Jane Anderson?”
“I
was.” Graham scowled. “Until you lot came around.”
“Actually, she’d filed for divorce over a month before your
embassy arrived,” Helen said.
“That
was just a misunderstanding,” Graham said. “If they hadn’t come
barging in—”
“You
would still be with her?” Kalick said. “Really?”
“Well—”
“Graham!” Helen said. “I think I see someone signalling you.
Shall we—”
“No,
please,” Kalick said, and put out one hand to hold him back. “I
would very much like to talk to Mr. Masters.”
“But—”
“Yes,
go on, Helen,” Graham said. “Let the men talk here.”
“Fine.”
Helen gritted her teeth. Time to summon help. As she moved away,
she caught Kalick’s question:
“Do you
really believe she would return to you if we left?”
Great.
Just what she needed. Helen signalled to the drinks server—no
more alcohol for Kalick, either, just in case that was what was
bringing all this out. Then she headed for the two people she’d
been avoiding all night: her mother and the Guest of Honour.
“Darling!” Her mother disentangled herself from the Ambassador’s
embrace long enough to kiss Helen’s cheeks. Then she cuddled
back in, resting her head on the Ambassador’s narrow shoulder.
“What a gorgeous party. You’ve really outdone yourself—hasn’t
she, lover?”
“Marvellous,” the Ambassador agreed, and grinned, flashing
strong white teeth, only slightly pointed. Her neck-length,
greenish-blonde hair tangled with Helen’s mother’s carefully
tousled coiffure. She stroked the side of Helen’s mother’s face
with long, red-painted fingernails. “Your mum and I are enjoying
ourselves so much.”
So I
see,
Helen thought, and said out loud, “I’m glad.”
“Are
you all right, darling?” Helen’s mother frowned at her. “You
seem a little—”
“There’s a bit of a situation,” Helen said, low-voiced, and
glanced around to make sure no one else was close enough to
listen. Normally, a Guest of Honour would be swarmed at a party
like this, alien or not, but for once, the area around the
buffet table was clear. Maybe it was the blatant Public Displays
of Affection that did it? If they grossed out everyone else even
half as much as they did her, she wasn’t surprised.
She
said, “Mister Kalick doesn’t seem very happy.”
“Oh,
well...” The Ambassador shrugged. “Kalick hasn’t been happy
since we got here. No, since halfway through the trip. I think
it’s the fault of his new gender. Have you noticed how moody men
are?”
“Ah...”
Helen couldn’t restrain herself from glancing back at the duo of
Graham and Kalick, bent toward each other with identical looks
of aggrievement. “Not all men,” she said. “But a few. Look, I
thought you should know, Kalick’s making some rather wild
statements about the appropriateness—or not—of your
relationship.”
“Territorialism,” Helen’s mother said sagely, and reached down
for another strawberry from the bowl by their side. “That would
be another male trait, sweetheart. My ex was just the same. He
slept all over the place, but if I so much as glanced at a man
on the telly—”
“Funny
you should mention Graham,” Helen said, and tilted her head
meaningfully.
Her
mum’s eyes widened. “Oh, my lord. Sweetie”—she squeezed the
Ambassador’s arm—“that’s him! My ex, talking to Kalick!”
Finally,
Helen thought. She said, “I couldn’t talk Graham into leaving,
and of course I didn’t have the authority to tell Kalick
anything, but I thought if you—”
“That’s
your ex?” the Ambassador said. Her snakelike amber eyes narrowed
from the sides, giving her a disturbingly predatory look. “The
one who—”
“The
point is,” Helen said hastily, “since none of us want to start
any scenes at this party—”
“Yes!”
her mum said to the Ambassador. “The one who treated me like a
slave for three whole years, cheated on me with every woman in
London politics, and then, when I finally said I’d had enough,
he—”
“That’s
it,” said the Ambassador, and pushed Helen’s mum gently away.
“I’m going to go and teach him a lesson.”
“No!”
Helen said. “Not now!”
“Darling, be reasonable. When else will she ever have the
chance? It’s not like we’re ever going to invite Graham round
for dinner at the Embassy.” Her mother’s cheeks were glowing and
eyes shining as she spoke; she added, “I should have brought a
camera. I’d like to have pictures of this, to remember it.”
Helen
glanced desperately around the room at the dozens of
photographers circulating through the guests. “Finding photos
won’t be a problem,” she said grimly. “But Mum, please...”
“Oh,
don’t be such a worrywart,” her mum said. “It’s not as if you
wouldn’t enjoy watching it, too. After all you’ve said about
Graham in the past...”
“Any
other time,” Helen said. “But not at this party! Please—”
But it
was too late. The Ambassador was already striding across the
room, her wide-legged trousers swishing decisively around her
legs, while Helen’s mother followed behind, fluttering and
beaming with excitement. Helen looked at the closest door and
thought about running. Maybe the flaming ruins of her career
wouldn’t reach her if she retired to Antarctica, or Aberdeen.
She set
her teeth together, slammed her champagne glass down onto the
buffet table, and hurried after them. She managed to catch the
Prime Minister’s gaze as she passed. He must have read the
desperation in her eyes, because he caught up with her a moment
later.
“What’s
going on?”
“The
Ambassador is about to challenge Graham to a duel,” Helen
gritted through her teeth.
“What
the hell—?”
Oh,
triple hell.
Helen caught sight of her cousin’s smooth, dark hair over the
Prime Minister’s shoulder. Like any good journalistic shark,
Bella could scent blood in the water of any event.
“Ooh,
this does look like fun,” Bella purred. She crooked her finger,
and a pair of photographers fell into step behind her. “Wasn’t
the Ambassador talking to you, Hel, right before she took off
like an avenging angel? What on earth did you say to her?”
“Helen?” McAlistair said. “You wouldn’t have—”
“Of
course not,” Helen said. “But—oh damn.” Only years of
working in politics kept her from uttering a stronger curse as
the Ambassador grabbed Graham’s shoulder and swung him around to
face her.
Graham
was a big man, at least four inches taller than the Ambassador,
but he stumbled in her grip, and orange juice sloshed out of his
glass. “What the—? You!” He glared down at her. “Lady, you may
be interested to know that the woman you’ve been manhandling all
evening—”
“Manhandling all evening...”
Bella whispered into a voice recorder at her wrist.
“Not
manhandling,” Kalick corrected, stepping up behind them. “Woman-handling.
It’s all the fault of her gender!”
“What
in God’s name—?” McAlistair began.
Helen
shook her head at the Prime Minister. “No time,” she hissed.
“Look...” She raised her voice. “If everyone could just take a
moment to remember where we all are, and that the whole world is
watching us right now—”
“Whole
world watching...” Bella murmured into her recorder.
A
booming voice sounded behind them—the American ambassador,
trailed by his wife and three newspaper magnates. “What’s going
on here?”
“Oh
Christ,” McAlistair muttered.
“That
woman,” the Ambassador said to Graham, “is a wonderful person
who was mistreated by you for three long years, and if you had
any idea how lucky you’d been—”
“It’s
her female hormones,” Kalick said to the American ambassador.
“They’ve completely taken over. The next thing we know—”
“How
dare you talk to me like that?” Graham wrenched himself free
from the Ambassador’s grip. “You’re the one who’s been making a
fool of me all over—all over the galaxy! The whole damn—”
“Helen,” McAlistair hissed. “Do something!”
Helen
opened her mouth and said the only thing she could think of.
“It’s time for the announcement!”
Everyone in the group turned to stare at her.
“What
the hell are you talking about?” Graham growled. “Announcement?
What announcement?”
“So
there is an announcement after all,” Bella murmured. “Hmmm...”
The
Prime Minister said, “I thought we’d agreed—never mind. I see.
Time for the announcement. Right!” He cleared his throat. “If we
could get everyone’s attention, please...”
The
Ambassador gave Graham one last grim look. “As soon as this is
over...”
“Don’t
think she’ll forget, either,” Kalick said. “She’s become
extremely moody since taking on this new gender. Have you
noticed how moody women are?”
“Tell
me about it, mate,” Graham said. “If I had a penny for every
time Jane—”
Helen
said, “If the Ambassador could please join the Prime Minister at
the top of the room, yes, just this way, and if the American
ambassador wouldn’t mind accompanying them—”
She
nudged the three leaders along to the other corner of the room,
leaving Kalick and Graham in enthusiastic conversation. Out of
the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Graham slapping the
Andrassii diplomat on the back in appreciation of some point. If
she were really, really lucky, maybe by the time the
announcement was over, they’d have retired to some nearby pub to
watch football and scream at the referees in total macho accord.
The
guests rearranged themselves into an expectant audience around
the Prime Minister, who threw back his shoulders and flashed his
vote-winning smile at the flashing cameras. Still, Helen caught
the glint of panic in his eyes.
It had
been the biggest coup of his prime ministership—the biggest
coup for any prime minister of the last century—when the
Andrassii had chosen the United Kingdom as the site of their
first formal delegation. After ten years of working for Hamish
McAlistair, Helen knew him well enough to know that he would
have made any concession necessary to preserve that special
relationship with the Andrassii. The fact that he’d been
unwilling to share the details of the new agreement even with
her was a dangerous sign. Helen fixed a professionally receptive
smile onto her face and began to calculate clean-up strategies
in her head as McAlistair began the usual round of
preliminaries.
“...so
I speak on behalf of our entire country when I say how very
honoured and delighted we all are tonight to welcome our
Andrassii friends, and in particular...”
Helen
clapped with the others as the Ambassador stepped up to
McAlistair’s side.
McAlistair cleared his throat. “And now if I might ask our
honoured guest to announce the most important news of this
evening...”
The
audience hung in expectant silence, broken only by the steady
click of cameras from all sides and the low-toned conversation
from the other corner of the room, where Graham and Kalick
continued their discussion.
“Yes! That’s it exactly. Women are just...”
“Ambassador?” McAlistair said, and stepped back to give the
alien full prominence.
“Thank
you, Prime Minister,” the Ambassador said.
“Gentlemen...ladies...” She flashed a lascivious wink at Helen’s
mum, who blew a kiss back at her, captured on a dozen cameras.
“I am delighted to announce that Mr. McAlistair’s Cabinet and I
have signed an agreement of mutual support. One of the first
results of this treaty is that the United Kingdom will become
the first port of call for all imports from our homeworld, and a
special commission will be appointed in London to act as
official mediators in our trade agreements with every other
country on your world.”
Helen’s
jaw dropped open. Gasps rippled around the audience. Even Bella
looked stunned.
With a
nervous look at the American ambassador, the Prime Minister
leaned forward to add, “Giving special consideration, of course,
to our American friends in all cases.”
Still... The American ambassador’s public smile was stretched so
tightly it looked ready to crack. What on earth could have won
such a prime gem as that for the UK rather than the US? No
matter what outlandish concessions he’d made to the Andrassii,
McAlistair would be forgiven for them without question by the
businessmen who controlled the news media. Why on earth had he
been afraid to tell her about this ahead of time?
There
was something oddly constrained about the Prime Minister’s
expression as he stepped up to prominence again. “As a very
small token of our appreciation for the gift granted to our
country by the Andrassii...” He started to turn in place, to
sweep his smile across the room, but stopped short just before
he would have met Helen’s gaze.
He
didn’t want to look at her as he made his announcement. Helen
almost frowned before she caught herself. What—?
“We
have offered a permanent home to any Andrassii who choose to
emigrate to the Earth,” McAlistair said, “and we plan to appoint
a professional mediator to help ease their adjustment into our
culture. As a symbol of our new mutual cooperation, tonight, in
front of all of us, the Archbishop of Canterbury will be
officiating in the first human-Andrassii wedding ceremony ever
to take place on any planet.”
Helen
dropped her champagne glass. It shattered, sending shards flying
across her feet and everyone around her. She couldn’t move.
McAlistair met her eyes and offered her a small, guilty shrug.
“Archbishop?” He gestured, and the Archbishop approached,
smiling serenely. “And Ms. Anderson?”
“Mum?”
Helen said. Cameras clicked around them. She stared at her
mother, who was blushing and giggling as she stepped forward.
Helen tried to lower her voice to a whisper; it came out as a
muffled shriek. “You couldn’t even tell me ahead of time? You
couldn’t—”
“Oh,
but darling, isn’t it a wonderful surprise?” Her mother flung
her soft arms around Helen, coating her in perfume. “I know I
should have told you, really, but you’ve been so busy, and so
have I, of course. You know what it’s like in new
relationships—you can hardly keep your hands off each other for
an instant!”
“I
noticed,” Helen muttered into her mother’s perfumed neck.
“But
we’ll have all the time in the world to make up for it now!” her
mother said. “The Ambassador’s going to tell McAlistair that
you’re the only person she’ll even consider for the job of
official mediator for the Andrassii-English community. We’re
going to buy a big house for the whole family, so we’ll be
together all the time! Never a day apart! I’m sure we can find
you someone special, too—the Ambassador has a nest-sibling she
thinks might be just the one for you—and we were thinking of
inviting sweet little Bella to be our media correspondent, so
she’ll have to live with us too, of course, and—”
“Never
apart from the family,” Helen repeated numbly. “Always
surrounded—”
“You’ll
love it,” her mother said. She pulled back from the embrace,
beaming, as cameras clicked around them. “It’ll be so perfect
for you! It’s what you’ve always been best at, isn’t it? Keeping
everyone else in the family from fighting? From now on, you’ll
never have to do anything else again!”
Helen
stared at her mother’s bright smile, as incandescent and
hypnotizing as car headlights racing toward her. She forced
herself to wrench her gaze away, out at the sea of watching
people. Only two people weren’t craning their necks to catch
every moment of their encounter. There, in the back—she
blinked. Oh!
Graham
and Kalick had found an awful lot in common, after all.
Her
mother followed her gaze. “Oh, isn’t that sweet?” she cooed. “I
knew Graham would get over me in time, and Kalick’s been so
unhappy on his own. Of course, he’ll have to change genders
before they make a real commitment—Graham always was a
traditionalist about that sort of thing—but really, Kalick will
be much happier as a woman, and so much friendlier and more
sociable, too—women always are, don’t you think? So
everything’s working out perfectly! They can all move in with
us, and with you there to keep an eye on everybody all the time,
I don’t see why we shouldn’t—”
“I
volunteer!” Helen croaked, and pulled herself free.
“I beg
your pardon?” Her mother fell back.
Helen
crossed the space to the leaders at the front of the room in
three quick strides and grasped the Prime Minister’s hand.
“Hamish.”
“Yes?”
McAlistair slid a nervous glance at the watching press corps.
“Helen, remember where—”
“I
volunteer,” she said, and projected her voice so that everyone
could hear her. “I’ll go with the delegation to the Andrassii
homeworld. I want to serve my country.”
“But—”
he began.
“But
sweetie!” her mother cried behind her. “I told you, you can stay
right here and—”
Helen
lowered her voice to a whisper straight in the Prime Minister’s
ear. “I’ve been working for you for over ten years, Hamish. I
know all your secrets. Don’t make me use them.”
His
face drained of colour. “I say—I mean—” He threw his shoulders
back and addressed the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, may I
present our first British ambassador to the Andrassii homeworld!”
Helen
looked across the roomful of cameras, at her ex-step-father
passionately snogging his new Andrassii partner, and at her
horrified mother being taken into the arms of her amused,
Andrassii, soon-to-be-step-mother. For once, Helen’s own
professional smile was one hundred percent sincere. No matter
what challenges or difficulties lay ahead of her in an alien
world, she knew one blessed thing for sure: she would never have
to organize a family party again.
About the Author:
Stephanie Burgis is an American writer who lives in Yorkshire,
England, with her husband, Patrick Samphire, and their
crazy-sweet border collie mix, Maya. Her short fiction has
appeared in multiple magazines, podcasts, and anthologies,
including Strange Horizons, Escape Pod, and The
Lone Star Stories Reader. Her YA Regency fantasy trilogy
will be published by Hyperion Books. For more information,
please visit her website:
http://www.stephanieburgis.com.
Story © 2008 Stephanie Burgis. Photo of London City Hall by
ChrisO,
2004.