Maximum Warp
Chapter 20: Endgame

“I’ll get you an answer on that, Elder Mission Leader,” I said. “But there’s someone I need to talk to first.” I was pretty sure I knew what reward I should request.

“Of course,” he responded through the Siri-based interface. “There is time for you to decide. Ample – but not unlimited.”

“I understand,” I replied.

Janet, Justin and I made our way back toward the cabin Justin had been using as a bedroom. But before we reached it, Justin got a call from Toni Shakon from the White House counsel’s office.

“You two use the room,” he urged us. “I’ll take it in the foyer.”

“Thanks, Justin,” I said. “But you’re going to need your computer – and privacy. You go ahead. Janet and I can talk out here.”

He saw the sense in that and left us.

Janet – Janet Seldon! – was actually teary-eyed. “Jessica . . . I can’t believe you would do that. I mean, yeah. I s’pose I can believe it of you. You’re a really great person an’ all. For a linguist, anyway. But . . . of all things you could have asked for?”

I wrapped her in a big hug. “Worth it just to see your face,” I murmured. “Told you I’d get you back for sending me up here all by myself!”

“Oughta piss you off more often,” she sniffed.

“Is that even possible?” I smiled.

She broke my embrace and held me loosely. “That’s gotta be the nicest thing anyone’s done, ever. Let alone, for me. But . . . you get a freebie now. What are you thinking? Some scheme to save Gryphon?”

I shook my head. “I don’t have the first idea how to do that. I’m sure there’s something I could ask for that would be worth some money. I guess. But I know next to nothing about money. And money’s not Gryphon’s real problem anyway.”

She looked at me closely, then sighed. “Yeah, I know. I’d like to just blame greed and tight-fisted moneymen. But the real problem is us – all of us. Not enough people want what we’re offering.”

I nodded. “And it’ll only get worse as the total applicant pool for all colleges shrinks.”

She chewed on her lip, thinking. “If the college had money, it could lower tuition. Might bring numbers up.”

A waggled my fingers. “Tough to say. But . . . This is going to sound weird. I feel like I’ve got a different kind of debt to pay. A personal one.”

She raised an eyebrow in question. “So . . . who was it that you needed to talk to, before you made your decision?”

“Troi Harris.”

* * * * *

An hour later, Justin had left to go to the EEOB to meet directly with Toni Shakon, figuring that it would speed the process of finalizing the text of the agreement. I was using his cabin.

“I’m sorry. What?” Troi sounded like she’d been hit over the head with a long two by four.

“The People promised to reward me if I managed to get this deal done. It’s not why I did it . . . and really, there’s no reward they could ever give me, personally, that would matter more than becoming Jessica James. I’ve been paid. But the offer is still there, and . . . well. Troi, I know how much you’ve dreamed of this. I want you to have it. All of it.”

She sat down on the bed, like someone had cut her strings. “Oh. My. God . . . Jessica, you have no idea . . . .” She started to cry. Softly at first, then in great, gasping sobs.

I was dumbfounded. There was a young(ish) woman sitting on the bed, her emotions tearing her apart. Whatever did one do about that? Offer her tea? But a voice in my head said, Oh, go back to sleep, James. You’re hopeless! I’ve got this.

My voice.

I sat beside Troi and gathered her in my arms, holding her tight to quell her shaking. “It’s okay, honey. It’s okay.”

Through her sobs, she said, “All those years . . . Oh, God! I almost ended it, so many times, the pain was so great. I lost friends . . . family . . . I thought I was a freak. I hated my body . . . my life. Everything. Totally ratchet. I finally found a way to keep going. To shove open doors and walk through them. Build a life that had meaning. And now that I’ve finally – finally! – got my shit together . . . You offer me the chance to start over, all normie . . . Hearth and home, husband and child . . . maybe a white picket fence and a couple dogs? For free, like some fairy tale? Bibbidi-bobbidi-boo?”

“For free?” I hugged her harder. “Oh, no, honey. I got it for free. You earned it, a thousand times over.”

She closed her eyes and buried her head against my shoulder.

I closed my eyes as well and just held her, extending my other senses to feel the calming of her body. Her shaking gradually stilled; her breathing became more even. The flow of hot, salty tears slowed, paused, and then stopped.

She took a deep, deep, calming breath and released it slowly. “I don’t even have the words to thank you. I can’t believe you’d do that, for someone you barely know.” Her voice was raw, but calm.

I opened my eyes, gave her shoulders a final squeeze and released her. “It was pure dumb-ass luck I met Worm that night on the trail. It could have been anyone. It should have been you.”

She looked bewildered. “Why me?”

“Look at the things you accomplished! And at little more than half my age. An adventurer, explorer, a writer of original works . . . and all that while dealing with severe gender dysphoria. You’re a marvel, Troi. Who better to represent our species?”

Her eyes were still bright. “And to think I wanted to hate you! You offer me the thing I’ve wanted most my whole life. . . . God, it’s so tempting! But . . . it’d be wasted, Jessica.”

What was she saying? “Wasted? Why?”

“The People already offered me a shot – as an inducement to accompanying them when they leave.”

I was dumbfounded. Part of me was hurt that I hadn’t been offered a berth as well. But . . . would I really have taken it if they had? It’s not about you, Jessica! “But now you don’t have to go, Troi. You can have what you always wanted, right here. The whole package.”

“No.” She shook her head, a gesture that seemed both sorrowful and final. “I can’t unsee what I’ve seen, and I wouldn’t want to. How would it feel, walking around the city all quiche . . . you know, serious sizzle? Watching men come at me, thirsty as fuck . . . when I know in my heart they’d probably dis the person I’ve always been, as well as all of my trans friends? This world’s always been an alien place to me. It always will be.”

“You’re talking about sailing away with real aliens. As in, alien aliens. You don’t even know what they look like! How’s that going to be better?” I asked.

“I don’t care what the People look like. They accept me the way I am – the Mission Leader thinks I’m ‘whole.’ Go figure! The shot’s for my benefit, not theirs. They’ve decided they want to learn more about us and I want to learn all about them. That’s a life worth living, don’t you think?”

I thought about that. As an academic, I could understand and respect it. But . . . “I held you while you wept, just now. Are you sure?”

She gave me a sweet smile. “Told you before. Old memories, old pain. They rise up and get me, sometimes. Probably always will. It’s part of me.”

“Then why not . . . .” I began.

Anticipating the question, she stopped me. “Because it’s not the best part of me,” she said gently.

She touched my check and then, to my surprise, kissed me lightly on the lips. “Thank you, Jessica James Marshall Wainwright. I’m sure you were a good man; I know you’re a fantastic woman. Whatever you might think, no one could have done a better job. No one! So take your reward and stop feeling guilty about it. Whatever debt you thought you owed me – believe me, you’ve paid it. I will never forget it. Or you.”

She got up and walked to the door. At the threshold, she turned to say something more, then thought better of it. She shook her head, smiled, and was gone.

Janet came in moments later. “That girl had a most peculiar expression on her face when she left just now. How’d she take it?”

“She turned me down, Janet. Decided she was too scarred to have a ‘normal life.’”

“Seriously?” Janet looked stricken. “Damn. The poor woman! I thought she’d kill for that shot. . . . It breaks my heart. Really, it does.” She slumped in a chair.

I shook my head. “She’s going to get the shot, but not because I offered it. The aliens are going to give her one, because she’s decided to go with them.”

Janet’s face drained of color, then turned a vivid red. “She’s gonna do what!!!

This wasn’t the reaction I expected at all. “I know. Sure shocked me . . . and I guess, made me sad, too. But I thought you’d understand her better – after all, she’s signing up for one hell of an adventure!”

“Screw that!” Janet said. “She hasn’t finished Orion’s Shadow! Her fans have been waitin’ – I’ve been waitin’ – a year and a half for the last book! We’ve followed her characters – wept over them! And we don't get to find out if they make it home safe? Are you kidding me! She can’t do this to us!”

Who was this woman? “Janet . . . .”

But she was out of her seat in a second and out the door in two, a most determined look on her face. Hell hath no fury like a reader scorned!

But while I’d known Janet for thirty years and had only known Troi for days, I doubted even the formidable Seldon temper would prevail in this case. That young woman would not be budged.

It seemed like I couldn’t give away youth and good looks today. I needed a different answer, and I was feeling stumped. I got up and started to pace. Seven steps, wall to wall. Back and forth . . . back and forth. What could I ask for, that wouldn’t violate the Prime Directive, and might do some good?

Back and forth . . . back and forth. A lifetime on this ship would get pretty old.

Back and forth . . . .

“Jessica James.” Worm was at the door.

“Yes, Ensign?”

“Elder Mission Leader speak with you wishes.”

I had a sudden spike of worry. “Is everything alright? Did something happen . . . ?”

“All is groovy,” he replied. “Has cargo to do with.”

Whipsawed between his Sixties quotes and his attempts to freelance, it took me a minute. “Uhh . . . I don’t know what I can do to help with that, but I’ll certainly talk to him about it.”

We trooped to another small chamber, where the leader of the mission was waiting. “What can I do for you, Elder?” I asked.

He began chittering, and Siri translated. “I understand you offered to give your payment to Troi Harris, in the form of a shot.”

Siri didn’t make it sound like a question, but I thought it polite to respond. “I did, sir. She declined.”

“You do not ask for something for yourself?”

I shrugged. “I’ve always led a simple life. You’ve given me back forty years. I don’t know how I’m going to spend it yet.”

“When we spoke earlier, you told me that we could not make “bucks,” correct?” he asked, through Siri.

From habit, I nodded. “Yes, sir. It would break lots of rules. That’s why I tried to think of a technology you could trade for the uranium.”

“I understand. But . . . there is no time to come up with another technology that would work as payment for you – something that would be valuable but still within our rules. We have to break orbit in two days.”

Damn! “I . . . was afraid that might be the case.”

“We have a proposition for you to consider. It may solve a problem for us as well.” Even Siri’s translation sounded somewhat tentative.

“I’m happy to help, Elder,” I assured him.

“Before we found your star system, we had been collecting other materials that had some limited value in our home system. The weapons-grade uranium is substantially more valuable to the People, so we decided to clear our cargo holds of these other materials. It was our intent to simply dump the existing cargo in orbit around your system’s star. But Worm thinks it might have value to humans as well. He suggested it might be used as at least partial payment for your service.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well . . . I don’t know much about minerals and such, but I can certainly look into it. What are you carrying?”

Worm responded. “English language terms I think are rhodium, iridium and palladium.”

I thought for a moment. “Ummm, okay. Again, not my field, but I’m sure there are uses for them. How much are you carrying?”

Worm’s face had a perpetually owlish expression. “Sixteen tons.”

“Goodness! That sounds like a lot! I . . . ahh. I think I’ll need to talk with the government people to see where we could take delivery of that much material. Can’t just leave it in Janet’s backyard.” Just great. Now I’ve got responsibility for getting rid of a bunch of rocks.

The Elder said, “That would be appreciated. It took us some time to collect.”

I went back to Justin’s cabin. Who should I call? Corbin? No. He’s the President’s Chief of Staff. He’s got better things to worry about than my problems. Maybe Dr. Livingston?

Janet was back in the cabin . . . and she looked like the cat that found the clotted cream. “I was wonderin’ where you wandered off to.”

I said, “The Elder wanted to find out if I’d take some space rocks in payment. Stuff they’d been collecting to take back home, before finding out we had alien catnip.”

“Huh,” she said. “I guess it’s worth checking out.”

“Prolly,” I said. “I said I’d look into it, anyway. Why are you looking so pleased? You left spitting bullets.”

She positively bounced out of her chair. “She’s already got the last book of Orion’s Shadow written! It’s at the publisher for the final round of edits! And here’s the best part: She was gonna ask Dave Grillo if he’d make the final decisions on the editor’s suggestions. But she said she’d also ask him to let me help!”

“Congratulations . . . I guess? I mean, that’s good, right?” I wasn’t quite seeing why this was a cause for such excitement, but it clearly was.

“Are you kidding me! I’m gonna get to find out what happens months before the rest of the world! And I get to work with Dave freakin’ Grillo!!! You have no idea!

I smiled. “Well, I’m really happy for you. And I’m glad that you aren’t planning to kill Troi. I kind of like her.”

“Oh, up your nose with a rubber hose,” she said, affectionately. “Anyhow . . . what are you gonna do to check out the Elder’s offer?”

“I was trying to decide who I should contact about it. I mean, I don’t want to bother Luther Corbin or Averil Livingston with personal questions, but I’m not sure what to do with a pile of rocks.”

Janet’s eyes twinkled. “I’m not great at advice. Can I interest you in a sarcastic comment?”

I snorted. “Why should today be different from any other day?”

“Take ’em to a jeweler?” she suggested.

“I don’t think that’s going to work – they’ve got a lot of the stuff.”

“A ‘lot’.” She looked at me. “Is that a technical term?”

I laughed. “Smartass. Worm said they’ve got sixteen tons.”

“Yeah, that’s a lot, alright. . . . I know! Why don’t you talk to Aguia? He’s not involved in the contract stuff and I think he’s kinda sorta hemi-demi-semi- retired. Freelancin’, like. Maybe he’d give you some advice.”

That seemed like a good idea. I’d gotten his number when we’d met at the EEOB, so I tried it.

“Stanley Aguia,” he answered.

“Good afternoon, General. Or evening, I guess. It’s Jessica James and Janet Seldon. Do you have a minute for a sort-of unofficial question?”

“I think I can make time,” he said with a chuckle. “Between games of Jetpack Joyride 2.”

“The People are getting rid of their current cargo – space rocks, I guess – so they can max out on our uranium. They asked if I could take some or all of it as partial payment for my work. It’s a lot of material, though – sixteen tons – and I’m not sure what I’d do with it or where I’d store it. I don’t know whether the government might have interest in it, or if not, maybe industry. Or, hell, a museum. I’m embarrassed to say I’m a bit out of my depth.”

“Any idea what kind of materials?” he asked. “There’s some valuable stuff floating around in space – as well as plenty of junk.”

“Yeah – Worm said it was . . . palladium, I think, and, ah . . . iridium. And . . . ” I paused. It was on the tip of my tongue! What was it!

Finally, I had to give up. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember the third thing. . . . Oops!”

Worm’s voice came from the speakers. “Jessica James. The third mineral is rhodium.”

I almost jumped out of my skin. “Great good heavens! Worm, I’m sorry. I forgot you were listening! Thank you for the information. Perhaps you could turn off the microphone for a while?”

“I will this do,” he replied.

“Did you catch that, General?” I asked.

There was a moment of silence on the phone before Aguia answered. “Let me be sure I’ve got this right. The People have offered you sixteen tons of rhodium, iridium and palladium as partial payment for your efforts?” He was speaking carefully and precisely.

“Yeah,” I said. “I think they might have felt bad that there wasn’t any time to really explore other technology options.”

“They might have felt bad?” He started to chuckle.

I was embarrassed. Probably shouldn’t have taken up his time. “I’m sorry, General. What am I missing?”

Janet, bless her, looked equally confused.

Aguia replied, “If I hadn’t observed what both of you are capable of these past few days, I’d say you shouldn’t be allowed to buy donuts without supervision. Jessica, palladium – which is by far the least valuable of those three metals – is worth about $2000 per Troy Ounce.”

“Oh.” Math again. And, ah . . . “What's a Troy Ounce?”

“About fourteen and a half Troy Ounces in a pound,” he responded as if everyone would know that. “And, to spare you looking it up, 2000 pounds per ton. At today’s prices – not a fair measure, but still – 16 tons of palladium would be worth close to a billion dollars.”

I looked at Janet.

She looked at me. “Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit. How ’bout that? And . . . the other things – the iriddy thingy and the rhododendron – they’re worth more’n palladium?”

“You could say that.” Aguia’ voice contained affection, mirth and exasperation in equal measure. “Iridium is worth twice as much. And a Troy Ounce of rhodium sells for $15,000.”

“Holy shit, Batman!” Janet said.

I shook my head. “What on earth would we do with that much money?”

Janet laughed. “Whadya mean ‘we,’ girlfriend? This responsibility’s all yours!”

General Aguia said, “Jessica, I believe the technical answer to your question is, ‘anything – almost literally anything – you might possibly want.’ Pretty much for the rest of your life. A better answer might be, ‘a very great deal.’”

He was trying to tell me something with that second formulation of his answer, but I didn’t even want to figure it out. I buried my head in my hands. “I don’t know anything about money. I don’t want to know anything about money!”

“You two have spent entirely too long in ivory towers,” Aguia admonished, gently but sternly. “Money is the currency of the world, and its temptations and dangers are easy to see. But at the end of the day, having it enhances your power to do good in the world as well, if that’s what’s in your heart. If you don’t have any good ideas for how to use it – and Lord knows, as long as you’ve both walked the earth, you ought to – loan or give it to someone who does. As for the actual cargo – I am absolutely certain that the U.S. government will be ecstatic to buy it from you and take delivery. All three metals are extremely rare and strategically important. If you want, I’ll confirm that.”

I conferred with Janet silently, then said, “Of course, General. That would be a huge relief.”

We ended the call.

“A billion dollars. Damn.” Janet looked bemused.

“Yeah.” I was stunned. I thought some more about what the old General had said. “I could save Gryphon, I suppose.”

“Hell, girl, you could buy Gryphon. With pocket change.”

I thought about it. “I imagine it’d go at a fire sale price just now.”

We sat in silence, lost in our own thoughts. How did I want to spend my life, when all of this was over? How could I live a life that did not squander the gifts that had been heaped on me – youth . . . beauty . . . wealth?

“Janet,” I said. “I don’t want to run a college. Not even our college.”

She quirked a half smile. “Maybe especially not our college.”

“It’d be pretty stupid, anyway – a college owned by a couple teenagers. Leastwise, that’s what we’d look like.”

“Maybe we could set up a trust or somethin’.” She waved her hand airily. “Get someone else to do it.”

I thought about that. “Yeah – that might work. . . . But Gryphon’s got to change course if it’s going to survive. Or else it won’t deserve to survive.”

She nodded. “But . . . it’d be good if all our colleagues could go to work in a week – and if the students could show up. Changin’ direction takes time when you’re steerin’ a glacier.”

Diddle-loo-do, diddle-loo-do, diddle-loo do!

“Hey, Justin,” I answered.

“Hey, Jessica! I think we’ve got everything ironed out. It was faster than I thought it’d be – Shakon rocks! Anyhow, I’m bringing the draft back to the ship. I’ll go over it with you, then the client. Toni’s going to brief her team. Assuming everything’s good, we can get it signed first thing tomorrow.”

“Fantastic!” I said. “I’ll see you soon!”

“Yeah . . . I can’t wait!” He sounded . . . how had Troi said it? Thirsty! A good word, in my professional opinion.

We ended our call and Janet and I continued our discussion. It became increasingly clear that, while we didn’t want Gryphon to fail, we knew it needed not only money, but a whole new vision. A vision that we were too close to the place to give. On top of which . . . .

“I want a new life, Janet. Even assuming I could be the most bodacious professor in the history of linguistics, I don’t want to do that all over again.”

“And now, for something completely different?” She put verbal air quotes around the question.

As usual, the reference escaped me. “For one thing, maybe it’s time I paid a bit more attention to my own culture. So I’d at least know what the hell you’re talking about most of the time.”

She chuckled. “Most of the time? Girl, you got some catchin’ up to do before you can get past ‘occasionally’! If it helps, that reference wasn’t from your culture. Not exactly, anyway.”

“Just don’t make me read Hawthorne. Or watch Puffinstuff.”

“Those two things do not belong in the same sentence. Please tell me you know that!” she begged.

I just smiled. “What about you, Janet? What do you want to do when you grow . . . down, I guess.”

“God, I don’t know!” She laughed. “Just to be able to contemplate it is amazin’. I’ll be able to do cartwheels again. Cartwheels! Maybe I’ll just become a professional cartwheeler!”

“That’s . . . not a thing. I’m certain that’s not a thing.”

“Who knows?” Her grin was broad. “I sure don’t. But – Aguia’s right. I’ve spent enough time in an ivory tower. I wouldn’t mind livin’ Troi Harris’ life, now that she seems to be done with it. Explorin’ . . . adventurin’ . . . writin’. My own work, for a change. I’m tired of just analyzin’ other people’s writin’ – even stuff I love.”

At some point, we got a call back from General Aguia. “The U.S. government is absolutely interested in buying whatever palladium, iridium and rhodium the People gift you with. We’ll have to work out a price once we’ve had a chance to analyze the material. Probably would involve payments over time, too. I spoke with Luther Corbin. His thought is that the material could be dropped off at the Oak Ridge site where we’ve got the uranium. Does that make sense?”

“I . . . yes? I think . . . I mean, we’re probably going to need a lawyer, aren’t we?” The idea of that much money left me feeling stupid.

“A deal this big? Yes, I would advise you to get a lawyer. But I’ll get something drawn up on this end if you want.”

After that call was done, the phone told me it was 11:00 pm. Speaking of lawyers, Justin should have been back quite a while before. Janet decided to rest a bit, and I went out in search of Worm.

He was in the hold, having just escorted Troi and Daichi out for the night. “Jessica James. We are moving the ship for a few hours, to inspect the uranium offered as payment.”

“You’re moving the ship? What about Justin?” I asked.

“Attorney Justin Abel is aboard. He meets with Elder Mission Leader.”

“Oh . . . I . . . ummm.” I was surprised; Justin had said he was going to talk with me first. It wasn’t really that important, though. I didn’t have much to add concerning the wording of the legal documents. “I guess I’ll go back and wait.”

“Join them,” Worm suggested.

“That’s alright,” I said. “I don’t need to be in for this.”

“Jessica James.” His voice stopped me. “I have been – and shall always be –your friend.” Worm’s expressionless face gave his surprising words an added seriousness. “Join them. You should.”

I have a bad feeling about this. “Okay, Ensign. Lead on.”

We went back to the cabin where we had met earlier in the day. Justin was there already, sitting down, head bowed. The Elder Mission Leader was standing.

Justin jumped when the door opened. “Jessica!”

I eyed them both. “What’s going on, Justin? Elder? Is the agreement good?”

The Elder chittered and Siri took up the translation. “The agreement language is acceptable. I will ‘sign’ it. We were discussing something else. Troi Harris will accompany the mission when we leave. We have the capacity to take one more human, and we believe it would be good for us to do so. Justin Abel thinks we should ask you.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. I looked at him, head lowered, eyes down. Finally, I managed to ask, “Justin . . . do you want me to go?”

He looked up and met my eyes. Then he rose and came over, but made no effort to touch me. “No . . . I just think that you should. No one would do a better job representing humanity. And that’s . . . it’s more important than what I want. It just has to be. ‘The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few . . . or the one.’”

“How about the two?” I asked. I shook my head, then looked at the Elder. “You said Justin thought you should ask me. I notice you didn’t say you agreed.”

“You are correct,” he said through Siri. “But it is not because we doubt your ability to represent your species. We have been very pleased with your efforts.”

“Then why?” Despite myself, I wanted to know.

“We assess that however valuable your attributes might be to us, they are more needed on your home world. You have honor, Jessica James. Your species . . . has need of honor.” Siri’s words stopped.

Worm and the Elder looked at each other, a silent communication.

The Elder continued chittering, and Siri’s bland voice added, “Your species cannot spare you . . . but we believe it can spare a lawyer. Justin Abel has impressed us. We have determined that the People might profit from his knowledge.”

I felt the blood drain from my face. “We do have other lawyers.” But I was stalling. I knew better. How many lawyers would you trust with this mission?

“Are they interchangeable?” the leader asked, as if he could read my thoughts.

Janet and I had called Justin a “pink unicorn.” “No,” I conceded. “They most definitely aren’t.” My voice barely reached a whisper. “Justin?”

He looked at me, love and pain mixed in his face. “I’m just able, Jessica, not noble. But even I can see that our lives – yours and mine – don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy situation. You’d do the job better. But I’ll do it, if you don’t want to.”

“Want it? I wanted . . . .” My throat closed, silencing me.

“Believe me, I wanted that too.”

I turned my face from his so I could regain my composure, battling to keep the tears from my eyes. You’re not a love-struck seventeen year old, Jessica – even if you look like one! “Elder, I don’t know that my species needs me – or even wants me. But I think my place is here.”

“That is well, Jessica James,” he responded.

I couldn’t last much longer. “If all of you will excuse me . . . .” Without waiting for permission, I turned and oh, so bravely, fled. Once the door shut behind me, I raced back the way we had come. When I got back to the room, the tears finally began to flow.

Did I love him? God, I sure thought so. And I wanted him so badly! Everything had been going so well today. Singh and Dunlop getting arrested (but not Grant!) . . . the U.S. agreeing to supply all 20 tons of U-235 and give the battery technology away for free . . . Janet getting a free shot . . . No one trying to kill me. All good things! And now, suddenly, I’d lost my chance at love, and gotten saddled with a billion dollars or so. Behind every silver lining . . . .

I looked at Janet’s face, so peaceful in sleep, and exhaustion overwhelmed me. Again. I kicked off my shoes, spooned against her back, and pulled a blanket over us both. Damn Justin, and his honor, too! He could find someplace else to crash!

* * * * *
I woke to find Janet giving me a very close appraisal indeed. I blinked rapidly to clear the sleep from my eyes.

“Seem to remember sayin’ that you had to wash and moisturize before going to bed,” she said.

Fine way to start the day . . . . “Uhhhhn,” I responded.

“You look like a raccoon who tried to rob a mouse trap. What happened?”

“Go ’way,” I moaned.

“Right.” She sat up, rubbed her face, and left. I didn’t mean that literally.

But she was back just a couple minutes later with a damp washcloth. “On your back, Jessica. Let me get you cleaned up.”

I did as I was told, and she went to work with the washcloth. I didn’t know what it did for my face, but it certainly succeeded in waking me up. “Thanks, Janet.”

“Our intrepid lawyer is sleepin’ in the hold on some cushions, like we did the first time we were here. Want to tell me about it?”

“He’s going with them. When they leave.”

“Ah. Yep, that’d do it.” She didn’t seem all that upset.

Maybe if he’d written some fiction, she’d be more worked up about it! “That’s it? Nothing more to say?”

“It’s terrible, for sure,” she said promptly. “Might destroy their entire civilization!”

I made a face. “Not funny, Janet!”

She put a hand on my cheek. “I know, Hon. Though I do worry about it. But look, I know this purely sucks. He’s a good man, an’ I thought you two were good together. It was easy to ‘ship’ you, as the girls in my classes would say. But I don’t really know him all that well . . . and truth to tell, neither do you. I know it’s not much comfort, but I guarantee this isn’t your last chance for romance.”

I thought about that for a few minutes. Then a few more. I put a hand on top of Janet’s and squeezed. “You’re right. I mean, I’m beyond frustrated. But I lived for sixty years, even if I’m not sixty any more. I’m old enough to know that life goes on.”

“‘Long after the thrill of livin’ is gone?’” she asked. “Don’t worry . . . it’ll be back.”

I closed my eyes and got my brain in gear. Thought of everything that had to happen today. “Right,” I sighed, sitting up. “Hi ho, hi ho.”

“Told you not to talk to me like that,” she scolded.

Remembering the conversation – and what had sparked it – I smiled. “I’ll try to be better about it, you brazen strumpet!”

I got up, found the bag Averil Livingston had packed for us, and got out a change of clothes. Quickly and efficiently, I stripped, then put on blessedly fresh underwear and a clean top and pants. It occurred to me, as I was finishing, that I was no longer remotely self-conscious stripping naked in front of Janet. Two months ago, I’d have been mortified. Two months ago, I’d have been male.

Janet padded over and got changed as well (Averil had included all the clothes we’d left behind at the hotel). I decided I was not going to face Justin looking less than my best – or at least, the best I could manage on short provisions. I took a moment to brush my hair and put on some light morning makeup.

Janet smiled. “Ready for battle?”

I nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” My phone said it was just after 7:00.

“Come back with your shield. Or on it.”

I took a deep breath and went into the hold. I expected that Justin would be up, but he was still sleeping in the far corner.

I walked over and looked down at him. He really was a beautiful man. A good man. Such a shame! On impulse, I knelt down, bent, and kissed his sleeping lips, touching his cheek lightly with my right hand.

His eyes opened. “Hello, Gorgeous.” His voice was soft, warm . . . and sad.

“None of that, now,” I admonished. “Let’s not waste the time we’ve got left with tears and regrets. Now get yourself up, and let’s face the day . . . together.”

His eyes held mine. “I love you.”

I rose and looked down at him. “I know.” I smiled and left, looking for Ensign Worm.

I found him in the “Bridge” with the rest of the crew that I had come to know. “Good morning,” I said, entering.

“Jessica James,” he said in greeting. “We are almost back over your nation’s capital.”

“Where have you been, while I was sleeping?” I asked.

The Elder Mission Leader in the Captain’s chair chittered, and Siri translated. “Around the world.”

Worm added. “Better time we made than David Niven.”

The Elder continued. “We went to the site designated by the United States, confirmed the presence of twenty tons of 90% U-235 uranium, and dropped wards to guard the material. We also traveled to sites designated by the People’s Republic of China and the Russian Federation to determine whether they had met the terms of their bids.”

I was confused. “Why? You don’t have room for more HEU, do you?”

“We do not,” he confirmed. “We wanted to learn more about these peoples.”

“Pure curiosity? Well, I can certainly respect that.” I smiled. “What did you find?”

“There was no material at the coordinates specified in the Chinese communication. The Russian Federation had assembled the twenty tons in its bid. Purity was someone less than specified in their bid, though still in the acceptable range.”

“Interesting,” I said. “China must have decided to withdraw from the bidding – or at least, not hazard their HEU.”

“Why would do that they?” Worm inquired.

I shrugged. “Hard to know for sure. Lack of trust, maybe. They had to know that the thing they requested was a poor fit for evaluation under a “greatest good” standard. And, they didn’t have enough spare HEU to satisfy your request in full.”

“You will inform them both that their bids were not accepted?” the Elder asked.

I nodded. “Yes, sir . . . But not until we have a signed agreement with the U.S. government.”

“Attorney Justin Abel said the same,” he replied.

Unexpectedly, Worm said, “Jessica James . . . we are sorry to you part from Justin Abel. You would have human worms created?”

I was about to throw out my usual query, but stopped myself. “Thank you, Ensign. We were . . . assessing our compatibility. I will miss him.” I smiled, thinking of Janet. Finally, I had the right allusion! “But a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.”

I took my leave and went back to the sleeping cabin, where I found both Justin and Janet.

Janet looked concerned . . . but not, it turned out, for the reason that I had thought. “I got a call this morning . . . from Grant, if you can believe it.”

“No shit!” I was shocked. “Isn’t he supposed to be on the run?”

“Oh, he is,” she answered. “But he called to warn me – to warn us both. He’s still got contacts in the PRC from his spy activity. Apparently they aren’t real happy with you. They’ll wait ’til the aliens are gone, but after that . . . the gloves are coming off.”

“They weren’t exactly a barrel of laughs when the gloves were on,” I said, remembering the eyes of their assassin. I thought furiously for a moment. I didn’t want to spend all my time looking over my shoulder! We needed to throw them off our tracks. Disappear . . . hmmm. “What’s the plan today, Justin?”

“Meeting at the White House at 9:00 for the signing,” he answered. The President wants all of us there – he wants a photo, for the record, for when they tell the world in November.”

Janet snickered. “Pics, or it didn’t happen? I thought we didn’t exist.”

“We’re slipping in as a couple of Aguia’s irregulars to talk about energy issues. Got some fake names, IDs and everything. Anyhow, Elder won’t risk any of his people around us crazy humans again, so he’s signing here. In fact, he already has. So we’ll bring the agreements – and the formula – to the White House. Tonight, they’re going to pick up the uranium at Oak Ridge.”

“We’re bringin’ the formula with us this morning but they aren’t pickin’ up the uranium ’til tonight?” Janet shook her head. “Decided to trust us after all?”

Justin chuckled. “Not exactly. They put some sort of warding device on the U-235 stockpile after they scanned it last night. The government couldn’t move the material right now if they wanted to.”

It was fascinating, but I was only half listening, my mind whirling in a completely different direction. “I need to talk to Worm,” I said. “I’ve got the perfect disguise to wear today.”

Janet looked at me. “Not Singh, I hope!”

I laughed, and decided to find out if my new voice could carry a tune. “From Singh-ing I’ll refrain!” Hey, girl! . . . that wasn’t half bad! I explained my idea and we talked about it. Made some refinements. Then called Luther Corbin.

* * * * *

At 8:50 am, a tall, spare man with iron gray hair and ferocious eyebrows stepped into the Roosevelt Room across from the Oval Office in the West Wing of the White House. He was wearing a coal gray suit and a light gray tie, and looked like a well-dressed version of the scholar he had always been. One last hurrah for James Marshall Wainwright, the Carter Cecil Jackson Distinguished Professor of Linguistics.

There were quite a few people in the room, milling around. The Secretaries of Defense and Energy were there, along with the President’s Science Advisor, Deputy Chief of Staff Tanya Rodriguez-Tolland, Assistant White House Counsel Toni Shakon, Acting National Security Advisor Katherine Kurtz, General Stanley Aguia, Dave Grillo, Professor Kayla Cormier, and – to my surprise (and, no doubt, Janet’s dismay) – Gavin Grimm. We’d picked up Troi Harris and Daichi Kurokawa on our way in, and they entered with Janet, Justin and me.

Talk stopped momentarily when we entered. Averil Livingston’s face lit up with a smile and she began to clap. In moments, the whole room joined her, causing me to blush cardinal red. The atmosphere was completely different from any of my earlier meetings. Excited, almost electric. People come to Washington to be part of history, but Washington had never seen anything like this.

As the applause mercifully subsided, Averil came over and, surprisingly, held out both hands. I took them in mine. Unlike the other illusions the aliens had created for me, this one extended to both touch and voice. Apparently the energy budget for the enhanced illusion was enough to power a small city. But I needed it for now.

“Well . . . you look very distinguished,” she said, smiling.

I smiled back. “I bet Grant would have an opinion.”

She shook her head. “I couldn’t believe it, when I heard. Earl Grant!”

“I know, right? Listen . . . Thank you. For everything. You’ve been amazing.”

“Apart from having you arrested and getting you shot,” she said ruefully.

“Not a highlight, for sure,” I chuckled. “But really. None of this would have happened without you pushing it on the inside.”

“You got that right!” The diminutive Secretary of Defense joined us, and was looking up at me. “Liked you better when you were a normal height, Professor!” His broad grin was infectious.

Stanley Aguia drifted behind Secretary Bradley. “Now, now, Jack. We offered you the rack, back at the Academy. I distinctly recall that you declined.” He gave me a quick appraisal and a slow smile. “Professor Wainwright. It’s good to see you.” He placed just the slightest additional weight on the penultimate word of his sentence.

“Never mind that!” Gavin Grimm was practically hopping up and down. “The formula! Do you have the formula!!!”

Just then the door opened to admit a young man, well-built and ruggedly handsome – yep, despite my illusion, I still noticed! – who was clearly a member of the President’s security detail. His eyes swept the room before he moved forward. President Taryn followed him, accompanied by Chief of Staff Luther Corbin. A photographer trailed in their wake.

“Good morning, everyone,” the President said briskly. “Let’s take care of business first. Adam, call the shot.”

It took a few minutes, but the photographer had everyone where he wanted them. The President was seated, naturally, with multiple originals of the agreement, each already signed by the Elder Mission Leader, in front of him. Janet and I stood on either side of him, flanked by Cabinet members, General Aguia, and the rest of the group.

“I’m standin’ on his right side, and you know what that means!” Janet joked.

I grinned. “I think so – You’re a sheep and I’m the G.O.A.T., right?”

She stuck her tongue out at me. Hopefully, Adam caught that on film. Or pixels, or . . . . whatever.

Once Adam was done with the stills, he put his camera on a tripod and rolled video as the President signed six originals.

I expected Taryn to say a few words, but he kept quiet. When he was done with signing, he smiled for the camera, then said, “Thank you all for coming.” He rose. “Professor Wainwright, Professor Seldon, will you join me for a moment in the Oval Office? Mr. Corbin? Dr. Livingston? General Aguia?”

We all nodded – naturally, that’s not one of those occasions when you say, “Gee, sorry, I’ve got to wash my hair.”

“Oh, Professor Wainwright . . . I almost forgot. You’ve got something else for me, right?” Taryn was smiling.

“Yes sir,” I said, and handed him a folder.

He opened it, glanced at the contents briefly, and chuckled. “Professor Grimm, would you take a look at this for me, please?”

Gavin practically fell over himself getting possession of the folder.

The President led everyone he’d invited across the hall, and this time, no one followed us in. Not even the Detail.

Once more, as soon as the door closed behind us, I said, “You can drop the illusion now, Worm.” As James Wainwright, I’d been a little shorter than Stanley Aguia and a few inches shorter than the imposing Luther Corbin, but with the illusion gone I was once again the shortest person in the room, though Averil didn’t have me by much.

“It’s good to have you back, Jessica,” the President said, a twinkle in his eye. “And if you’re still listening, ‘Ensign Worm,’ on behalf of the government and people of the United States of America, I want to applaud your mastery of human aesthetics.”

I blushed furiously. “Perhaps you should stop listening for a bit, Ensign,” I murmured.

“Not that you didn’t cut a very nice figure as a man,” Averil said.

“Yeah, well . . . he could clean up okay,” Janet said, critically. “When he took the time. Which, he seldom did.”

“Thanks, Janet!” I laughed.

Janet and I took one couch, opposite Livingston and Aguia. The President took his customary chair near the Resolute Desk, and Corbin once again completed the circle, taking a chair at the other end of the couch arrangement.

“I want to thank you both for everything you’ve done,” Taryn said. “Luther and Stanley filled me in on the issue of your payment from The People last night.” He looked at his Chief of Staff apologetically. “If you’ll forgive the informality just this once.”

Corbin chuckled his deep, bass rumble. “Mr. President, you can call people whatever you like. Just don’t be surprised if none of your guests call you by your first name!” A linguist could listen to Corbin talk forever.

I smiled and shook my head. “Not in this room . . . Mr. President.”

The President grinned, then looked at General Aguia expectantly.

Aguia leaned forward. “I think we’ve got some interlocking problems here, and hopefully we can get them sorted out. First, in light of the information that you received from a questionable source, you both may – may – be in danger from Chinese agents once the alien ship leaves. Maybe Russian too, for all we know.

“Second, while we intend to reveal the existence of the aliens and the source of the battery technology in November, there’s no way to explain what’s happened to you before then. And . . . it may be better not to discuss the youthening drugs until people have gotten comfortable with the idea that we aren’t alone in the universe. It could cause bad feelings. The Russians and Chinese know about them, of course – but they each have good reasons to keep the information from getting out.

“Third, James Marshall Wainwright’s apparent disappearance has already caused a criminal investigation in Massachusetts. That’s likely to go nowhere, since – based on what Mr. Corbin learned from you this morning, Professor Seldon is also going to be unrecognizable in a month’s time. But still . . . .

“And finally, we have the problem of sixteen tons of incredibly precious metals being dropped on our doorstep. Not a bad problem to have, obviously . . . but absolutely, it’s something that creates a few complications.”

He looked around. “Am I missing anything?”

I said, “Identification. I don’t have any, and, as you just pointed out, Janet won’t either. None that will work, anyway. And, ahh . . . we may want access to at least some of the payment fast. The college where we’ve taught for the past thirty years just announced that it’s closing its doors. We’d like to do something about that, but students and faculty will already be scrambling for alternatives.”

Aguia nodded. “I assumed the first. The second . . . well, that is a complication. Let’s talk about it.”

The President said, “I’ve been in politics for fifty years, give or take, and I’ve never encountered a set of problems quite like these. But I’m sure you’ve got some ideas, Stanley. You always do.”

“Jessica proposed the first solution this morning,” Aguia replied, “and it makes a lot of sense. Give every appearance, to anyone who knows about the aliens, that Jessica and Janet – or, more specifically, Janet and a miraculously restored James – left with the aliens. Let that leak out to the Chinese and Russians. If they think they’re no longer on earth, they’ll drop it.”

I chimed in, “Even if they aren’t sure about that, they might well believe that Jessica went back to being James. This morning’s photoshoot should help, when you release the picture.”

Aguia concurred. “If they think the People reversed James Wainwright’s transformation, they won’t recognize Jessica as the same person. There really aren’t too many people who actually know what she looks like anyway.”

“Though I imagine the descriptions fairly pop,” the President observed.

Corbin coughed. Whether repressively or from humor, I couldn’t tell.

“Meanwhile, we get new identifications for the Professors. The best. Birth Certificates . . . medical records. The works. We can do Jessica’s now and Janet’s in a month. Let them vanish for a while. We don’t need to know where, and it’s better that we don’t.”

The President said, “We’re not talking about a long time, though, right? I mean, it would be awkward for either of them to claim their old identities before we go public with the news in November. But after that . . . Well, I’d think that even the Russians and the Chinese will calm down. Once we actually provide the technology to the whole world for free, they’ll at least know that they weren’t cheated. They’ll get the same thing we’re getting – without having to surrender their ‘precious’ uranium stockpiles.”

“Except they won’t get the international PR boost that we will,” Averil said, smugly.

“Yeah, there’s that.” The President looked a bit smug himself.

Aguia nodded. “I think you’re probably right, Mr. President. I would expect that the fuss will die down by next spring and the rest of the story can be told.” Looking at Janet and me, he added, “To the extent there are any lingering threats, by spring you should also be in a better position to protect yourselves. You will certainly have the resources to do so effectively.”

“I don’t want to have 24/7 security all my life!” I protested.

“Welcome to my world,” the President said dryly. “You get used to it, I hate to say. But it’s something you’ll have to deal with, whether or not the Chinese and Russians know who you are. Security is part of the package when you’re as rich as you’re about to be.”

I shook my head. I’d been right all along. Money’s a curse!

Corbin said, “We’ll need to set up some corporations for you – probably a couple of shells, so that your identities are protected – and then the proceeds from the sale of the materials to the U.S. government can be put in the corporate accounts.”

Averil interjected, “We’ll need to assay the materials, but . . . if it’s what the People told you, it’ll be worth billions of dollars.”

Aguia nodded cautiously. “Of course, the amount of material we’re talking about is a sizable percentage of the world’s known supply of the three metals. If it was dropped on the market all at once, it would significantly change the world price.”

Taryn waved the point away. “We’ll deal with it. Naturally, whatever amount we agree on, we’ll pay you, Jessica – and then you’ll pay almost half of it back in the form of federal taxes. Sucks to be you!”

“The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away,” Corbin intoned.

“Blessed be the name of the Lord!” I laughed. “So I’ll be only half as rich as I never wanted to be.”

“Something like that,” the President said. “You are an unusual person, Jessica James. . . . Most people would be happy to be rich.”

I shrugged. “I never wanted to worry about money. Or think about it, really. But this kind of wealth . . . mostly, it just seems like a big responsibility. I don’t need anything like that, so I’ll have to spend my life figuring out how to do something worthwhile with it.” I looked at Aguia and said, apologetically, “And I promise, General. I will try.

Luther Corbin chuckled. “I wish The People could turn you into a virus, so we could use you to infect the whole world.”

“Don’t give ’em ideas,” Janet warned. “For all we know, they could!”

I thought about my conversation with the Elder. They might have something like that in mind – metaphorically, praise be!

Averil said, “I understand where you’re coming from, Jessica. And I admire it, even. But . . . Saving Gryphon College, while a worthy goal, is just the first good thing you can do. You can have an amazingly impactful life.”

“Think about it, Jess,” Janet urged. “You know the sayin’, “Be yourself . . . unless you can be Batman?’ You actually can be Batman!”

I looked at my petite, curvaceous form and laughed. “No, actually, I think that one’s out.”

Her gurgling laugh joined mine. “Well, damn. Woulda been cool if you could.”

Corbin chimed in. “As far as an advance payment is concerned, we can probably do something just as soon as we’ve done a preliminary assay. Maybe around $100 million, assuming the material matches the aliens’ description.”

I shook my head. “And then we’ve got to somehow negotiate with the President and the Regents. God . . . I don’t know how to do this. Any of it!”

President Taryn gave me a kindly look. “We’ve got confidence in you, Emissary. You’ve been amazingly resourceful to date.”

Aguia was looking thoughtful. “I expect you’ll figure out how to really use your resources in less time than you think. But I can probably help with your immediate problem, if you’d like. I’ve got a lot of contacts in academia, and I’m a known quantity there in a way that you two aren’t – or at least, won’t be just at the moment.”

“Really!” I brightened. “Oh, my God! Yes, yes, yes!!! Any help you could provide would be an absolute godsend!”

“She’ll even pay you – real well, too, I bet!” Janet added.

I nodded enthusiastically.

Our conversation was interrupted by the sound of a loud buzz. The President turned his head and said, “What is it, Lilly?”

A voice responded from the intercom. “Professor Gavin Grimm asked to join your meeting, Mr. President. He said you might be expecting him.”

“Send him in,” the President replied.

Janet looked rebellious, but for once held her peace.

The door opened to admit Professor Grimm. Man, I thought, Don’t ever play poker!

Before the President could say anything, he practically danced into the room and stopped beside Corbin’s chair. “It’s all materials we’ve got, Mr. President – the base is silicon, not surprisingly, but the reagents are a surprise. And the manufacturing process is absolutely straightforward. I could do test-runs on this at my lab within a week.”

“Silicon,” Aguia said. “That’s interesting.”

The President laughed. “Well, how ’bout that? The Saudis are gonna purely hate this revolution, of course. But on the bright side – for them – it’s not like they’ve got a shortage of sand!”

Janet chuckled. “There it is . . . your moment of zen.”

We wrapped up our meeting soon thereafter. The President rose and shook my hand, then Janet’s. “I wish I could pin some medals on you, right now, today. But I hope you feel safe enough to reclaim your old identities, along with your new ones, in a few months. You’ve got all the time in the world – but the world can’t wait!”

“Thank you, Mr. President,” I said, feeling suddenly shy. “I never imagined I’d get closer to you than a television set. And now . . . I hope I get the chance to meet you again.”

I contacted Worm and asked him to restore the illusion of my former physique. As I turned to shut the door behind me, I heard Taryn say to Corbin, “Alright. What’s next?”

* * * * *

Half an hour later, Janet, Justin, Troi and Daichi were headed back to Troi’s house in Sterling, where the People would pick us up. General Aguia had arranged cars for us. Justin, Janet and Daichi were in one; Troi grabbed me and pulled me into the other.

“What’s up?” I asked her.

“Janet talked to me on the ride in,” she responded. “Told me . . . Jessica. James. Damn, it’s hard to think of you right when you look like an old guy. Anyhow. You have to believe me, I had no idea!”

I looked at her, trying to figure out what had her so upset. “I’m sorry, Troi. Maybe I’m just too overwhelmed to be thinking straight. What are you talking about?”

“The lawyer. Justin Abel. I had no idea the People were going to ask him to come. Not to mention, that he was your boyfriend!” She was actually wringing her hands. I’d never seen anyone do that.

I put a hand over hers, just to still them. “I didn’t think you did, Troi. The People clearly sprang it on Justin yesterday night – well after you’d accepted. And anyway . . . he was never my boyfriend.”

“That’s not what Janet told me,” she said.

“Janet,” I responded with some asperity, “Is a marvelous woman and an incurable busybody!” I softened my tone. “There was something there. I think there was. But we never had a chance to explore it.”

She bit her lip. “Jessica. Will you do something for me?”

“Of course!” I said.

“Take my place.”

“Hell, no!!!” I blurted out without even thinking.

“Well, that was a quick reversal,” she said with a quirky smile that vanished almost at once. “I’m serious. You are the best envoy we could have – and you would get your chance with this guy. Justin. The lawyer. You know who I mean! Please, Jessica. I don’t want to take this from you!”

The car was quiet, but for the white noise of tires against the asphalt. Finally, I started to laugh.

“I’m dead serious,” she repeated.

I shook my head and brought my perverse sense of humor back under control. “You’ve repaid me for the temptation I offered you yesterday. A lifetime with Justin!”

I smiled, and patted her hand. “No, Troi. He really is a wonderful man . . . as I hope you’ll discover. But I told you already, you’re the envoy we always should have had. I have – or had, at least! – a well-ordered mind. But yours is original. You have no idea how rare that is. You are unique in the best possible way. Besides . . . .”

I fell silent.

She let it go for a minute, then prodded me. “Besides?”

I looked at my hands – an old man’s hands, once again. The hands of a man who had let life slip away from him, once. An incongruously feminine smile curled my lips upward. “And besides. I would never be happy without Janet Seldon in my life. We’ve never been lovers, but she’s been the best friend I could ever have. No way – none, zero, zip – would I go off to the back of wherever and leave her behind.”

Troi looked at me carefully. “You mean that?”

“With all my heart.”

“Then you are incredibly lucky. And you’re right . . . you should never walk away from your bae.” Her eyes were bright with tears.

“I won’t,” I promised. I wasn’t familiar with the term she used, but its connotation was reasonably clear from context. “One way or another, I won’t.”

She came to a sudden decision and nodded sharply. Then she pressed the intercom button to speak with the driver, who was separated from the passenger compartment by a plexiglass partition. “Excuse me,” she said. “Could you do me a favor? We need to stop by Tysons Corner.”

“Whatever you like, Ma’am,” he replied. “I’m paid by the hour.”

“What’s at Tysons Corner?” I asked.

“You’ll see!” she replied, cryptically. She sent Janet a text to let her know what we were doing so she wouldn’t worry that we’d been kidnapped, shot, dumped in a river or something similarly unpleasant and final.

We got out of the car at a large shopping mall and she marched me inside. “Where are we going?” I asked.

“Bloomingdales,” she said, in a voice of iron.

“Because?”

“You won’t have forever. But as God is my witness, you will have now. C’mon!”

Her words suddenly got through to me and I understood just what she was proposing. I stopped dead in the middle of the mall.

She turned back towards me and gave me a look, but then thought better about saying anything.

I thought for a moment, and reached an instant decision.

Damn if she isn’t right!

“Lead on!” I ordered.

She grinned. “That’s the spirit! She grabbed my arm and propelled me forward.

As we were passing another shop, I said, “Some nice things there, Troi. Should we look?”

She looked and laughed. “Ann Taylor? Be serious! With your build? I mean, your real build . . . or, your new real build . . . Fuck! You know what I mean! Anyway. Hard no. Ann Taylor is for gals like me that need to look sleek, ’cuz we don’t have all that much by way of curves.”

“Uhh . . . yeah. That would not be my problem!” I let her lead me to Bloomingdales.

But once we got inside, I took control, and marched us straight to the lingerie section. “Let’s start with something fun,” I said, getting into it. Soon we were checking out the offerings, commenting on colors, cuts and fabrics.

I saw a woman looking at me strangely. Her expression was puzzled and more than a bit hostile.

I looked her straight in the eye and – for the last time – furrowed my mighty Wainwright brows into the trademark glower that had cowed generations of students. Without breaking eye contact, I said in an aside to Troi, “for my money, the Natori bra has the best combination of comfort and style. I love how it feels – and just adore how it makes me feel!” Allowing my brows to return to parade rest, I gave our interloper a smile and a wink.

Her eyes bugged out and she fled.

Troi managed to hold in her laughter until the woman had left, but then she exploded. “Oh, dear God! You have no idea how much I enjoyed that. If I’d only had that kind of confidence the first time I snuck into a department store to buy a bra, back before I transitioned!”

I chuckled. “Well, Janet could tell you . . . my first time wasn’t pretty. At all!”

We got lingerie. And shoes. A bit of naughty sleepwear. And, finally, a dress. I had one like it, hanging in the closet in Janet’s spare bedroom, but this one was even better. Scarlet red, silky, strapless, a slit practically up to the thigh . . . . Oh, yeah. That was my dress! I couldn’t try it on, but I knew my sizes by now. All of them.

Troi insisted on paying. “I’m not going to have any use for my money where I’m going,” she said when I protested. “Don’t worry about it.”

So I didn’t. We had quite a few bags with us when we got to Troi’s house and sent the driver off. Twenty minutes later, my wing-tipped oxfords were hitting the deck of the alien’s ship.

Janet was there to meet us. When she saw the bags, she smiled. “Nice work, Troi.” She looked at me. “You sure?”

I felt butterflies in my stomach, but ruthlessly slew them all. One, two, one two, and through and through, her vorpal sword went snicker-snack! “Hell, yes!”

“Then let us help you.” She looked at Troi. “Justin’s in his cabin . . . doin’ some work to transition his clients. I talked to Worm and got us a changin’ area.”

I was astonished. “What was in your text, Troi? Jesus!!!”

“Well, not Him,” she answered. “But enough information to go on. Janet’s no dummy.”

They led me into the cabin where I’d met with the Elder . . . and where I’d learned that Justin would be leaving. I set down the bags and looked at my hands, one more time. Goodbye, James. “Worm, you can drop my illusion now.”

It took Janet and Troi a surprisingly long time to get me prepared. The dress . . . the heels . . . the stockings . . . the hair . . . the makeup. A hint of jasmine behind each ear, and in the hollow between my breasts. But finally, I was ready. Wasn’t I? Snicker snack!

“So much as breathe, and you’re gonna pop right outta that,” Troi giggled.

Janet smirked. “This look ain’t designed to last.” She looked at the ceiling. “Worm – When Jessica enters Justin’s cabin, give them ten seconds. Then I want you to play music through the speakers. And shut off all your damned microphones!”

Worm’s voice came through the intercom in our cabin. “Is not for science?”

“Ah, no,” she replied. “It most assuredly isn’t!”

“Acknowledged, Professor Seldon.”

“Okay, girl,” she said. She flicked up the slit in my skirt, and tucked something into the top of my stockings. “Supplies. Don’t forget them!”

“Yes, Mom!” I said.

Troi hugged me – carefully! “Damn, gurl! You slay!”

Thanks to my shortened tendons, I had no trouble with the five-inch heels of my footwear, which – Troi had helpfully informed me – are colloquially known as “fuck-me” shoes. I should have been embarrassed.

I wasn’t.

Justin looked up when I came into the room. His eyes bulged and he stood up slowly, a look of awe on his mobile face.

Very satisfactory.

An eternity passed, motionless and silent. Then the intercom began to play a classic, and I walked to where he stood. Slowly. Teasingly. Keeping perfect time with the music.

Ravel’s Bolero.

* * * * *

“It’s time, love.” I gave Justin a smile.

He shrugged his coat on. “Okay. I mean; wouldn’t miss it. Except . . . .”

I grinned. “Yeah. Except.”

We’d spent the afternoon and evening together, taking a brief break for some dinner. But it was now 11:00 p.m., and the ship had been brought to rest over the Y-12 complex in Oak Ridge, Tennessee. Justin and I joined Janet, Troi and Worm in the hold, and the People made the bottom hull transparent so that we could watch.

The first thing we observed were objects, dimly lit by the pale light of a waning crescent moon, descended towards the ground.

My palladium prison.

Sensing my thoughts, Justin gave me a squeeze.

When the last of the objects had settled onto the ground in the middle of the complex, other objects broke loose from earth’s gravity and floated gracefully towards the ship, guided by the tractor beam that the Russian Federation would never get.

Worm watched their progress avidly. “My, oh my . . . what a wonderful day!” he murmured.

They passed below and then behind us; the cargo area was apparently far back in the ship. We felt, more than heard, the closing of the cargo bay door.

A sense of power, of energy, of purpose, seemed to surge through the ship. Worm shuddered, threw back his head, and practically howled, Stelllllllllaaaa!!!

We looked at him, startled and nonplussed.

Janet drawled, “is that a ten-gallon hat, or are you just enjoying the show?”

He lowered his head and said, “Gonna rock around the clock tonight!”

It was done.

The ship returned to its resting point over Sterling, Virginia less than an hour later. All of us terrestrials were going to be staying at Troi’s house for the remainder of the night.

Troi gave Janet her bedroom. “I’ve got stuff to do,” she said. “And not really enough time to get it done. I’ll have plenty of time for sleeping, soon!” She disappeared into her study.

Justin and I took the guest bedroom. I figured he’d have plenty of time to sleep later, too, so he didn’t get much. But he fell asleep around 4:00 a.m.

For a half hour, I lay beside him, propped on one arm, memorizing the lines of his face. The texture of his dark hair. The warmth of his body and timing of his breathing, of the slow rise and fall of his chest. His scent, so unlike my own, elusive, hints of sandalwood and musk. I lovingly recalled every touch . . . every caress . . . each sweet and tender kiss . . . .

I realized, lying there in the predawn darkness, that I had completed my personal passage into womanhood and my new life. The love I felt for this good and decent man had allowed me to breach the last psychological barriers my former self retained and sweep them away. I had held a man’s sex with wonder in my eyes and longing in my heart, feeling no strangeness. I had fondled it, kissed it, and welcomed it home. He had buried himself deep inside me, and I had opened myself to him – completely, willingly, joyously. An instant of sharp pain, and wave after wave of pleasure so intense it made me cry out in astonishment. Just remembering brought tears.

“You are so very beautiful,” I whispered.

Even in his sleep, he heard my voice. He smiled.

With a sigh, I pulled myself out of bed and padded to the attached bathroom. I did my business without thinking. At least the toilet didn’t see fit to bathe and warm me! Then I slipped into the nightgown and peignoir that Troi bought me at Bloomingdales, and went into the kitchen.

Troi was there, sitting at her kitchen table, a mug of tea in her hands.

“Can I join you?” I asked, not wanting to disturb her.

“Please. Want some tea?”

“Don’t go to any trouble.”

“I made a pot.” She grabbed a mug and poured me some. “Earl Grey, hot.”

We sat in companionable silence. Dawn was still some time away.

Almost simultaneously, we asked, “Any regrets?”

I giggled. “You first.”

She looked at me over the rim of her mug. “No. I’ll miss this place . . . I’ll miss writing. Well, I still can write. I’ll miss the feedback I get from the readers, though. If I write more now, I don’t know that anyone will ever see it. But with all that said . . . I’m Gucci. Life here was hard for me and I coped by making it all an adventure. This is the greatest adventure anyone’s ever had. To infinity, and beyond!”

“Wait . . . you can’t go further than . . . .”

She stopped me with a smile. “I know. Janet mentioned you were like this. You need to get out more!” Putting down her cup, she said, “Now your turn.”

I shook my head. “No regrets – and that’s largely thanks to you. I wouldn’t have had the guts to approach Justin, knowing he was leaving, unless you’d pushed me. And what a memory!”

“You’ll always have Paris?” Her smile was a touch rueful.

I laughed. “Well, Sterling, anyway. The setting doesn’t matter. We didn’t get out much.”

That made her chuckle. “Yeah, I noticed. But . . . you’re sure you don’t want to go in my place?”

“More certain than ever. Which is no knock on Justin, believe me. But if he’d left – if we hadn’t had yesterday, and last night – I’d have had regrets for the rest of my life. It’s hard to let him go, but . . . I can, now. He’s an adventurer at heart, like you. Like Janet too, I guess. I’m . . . I’m something else. I don’t know what yet.”

“You da bomb, girl, that’s what you are! I wish I had a bit longer to get to know you. I really do.” She fell silent, drinking her tea.

In the distance, a rooster misread the time.

“Jessica . . . Do you think . . . I mean. Damn. I don’t know how to ask this. But . . . .”

I smiled, understanding at once. “You’ll be okay, Troi. You’re an amazing woman – an amazing human. And Justin is a fine, fine man. Give each other a chance. Please. For both your sakes . . . and for my sake too.”

We talked for a bit longer. I wished I could have gotten to know her better too. But I had enough time with her to know that Justin would be in the very best of hands.

Janet joined us as the sun was coming up. Seeing us together, she smiled. “Told you she was special, Jessica! Don’t worry, Troi. I’ll get her to read your books. Every one of them!”

“Well, I’ll need something to do, while we’re getting through your transition time!” I replied.

“When are you getting your shot, Janet?” Troi asked.

“Worm’s bringing it tonight when they come back from the shake-down cruise.” They were taking the ship on a ‘short hop’ toward lunar orbit just to test the trim of the cargo hold.

I shook my head. “I hope to God they don’t crash. Worm seemed positively high last night!”

Troi followed up with the one question I’d lacked the nerve to ask Janet. “So . . . are you just going to get younger, or did you opt to change your gender, too?”

Janet smiled and poured herself some coffee – we’d just made a pot. “I couldn’t decide,” she said casually, sitting down with us. “I told him to surprise me.”

* * * * *

The sun had set, and the four of us were together on a golf course, far from prying eyes.

We’d had a good day. Justin and Troi both had a lot to do to tie up the loose ends of their lives. Leaving all of their money behind complicated things, but also made them simpler. Justin’s clients in civil cases were more than willing to just take his money rather than fight in court for their adversaries’.

But it hadn’t been all work, and I’d made sure there was time for Troi and Justin to get to know each other better while there were still other people around to provide a bit of a buffer. It was just a beginning, but it had been a good beginning.

Justin and I had our memories. And we’d said our good-byes, quietly and tenderly, before coming out to the site.

Worm descended from the sky at a leisurely pace and landed lightly beside us. He still had an air of excitement, of anticipation, about him – an energy he had lacked in our earlier encounters. But his voice seemed under control. “Are ready, Janet Seldon?”

Her grin split her face. “Boo-yeah, Ensign! Hit me!”

He jabbed a large needle into her gluteus maximus. He removed it, looked at her with his owl eyes, and said, “Nanu, Nanu, Professor.”

“Nanu, nanu to you too, Worm,” she said, the wince from the shot modulating her grin. Maybe “grincing” should be a word?

“Justin Abel . . . Troi Harris. You prepared are?”

They looked at Janet and me.

Janet’s grin conquered the remains of her wince. “Smiles, everyone! Smiles! You two represent the whole damned human race. No pressure. But, ya know . . . DFU!”

I smiled at them both. Bravely.

They smiled back, and then gave Worm the nod.

The Ensign turned to me last, his face, as always, largely devoid of human expression. He raised his right hand and splayed his fingers. “Live long and prosper, Jessica James.”

I touched my hand to my heart. “Godspeed you home . . . my friend.”

“Three to beam up.”

They drifted skyward. Janet and I watched until they were gone from sight.

“Damn. I’m going to miss all of them,” I said.

“My butt hurts,” Janet replied, prosaically. “Did your butt hurt like this?”

We returned to Troi’s house for the night, intent on leaving at first light for the most obscure locale we could think of. But as we walked into the house, my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number, but the ID indicated that the call originated in “Orion’s Shadow.”

I put it on speaker. “Hello?”

“Jessica James,” Siri’s voice responded. “We are secured and ready for departure. When we reach our destination, your name will live forever in the Story of the People.”

All I could manage was a hoarse, but heart-felt, “thank you.”

“Ensign Worm, the uranium is secured?”

“Boo-yeah!” the Ensign replied, echoing Janet.

“Set course for home. Maximum Warp.”

Worm’s response was an enthusiastic, “Yabba Dabba Doo!!”

The last thing we heard from them was music that made Janet first chuckle, then laugh out loud. I didn’t recognize it initially, but as soon as the refrain pounded through the phone’s speaker, beautiful, healing laughter bubbled up from the very depths of my soul.

Worm had a sense of humor after all.

Lookin' for some hot stuff baby this evenin'
I need some hot stuff baby tonight
I want some hot stuff baby this evenin'
Gotta have some hot stuff
Gotta have some love tonight!

* * * * *

Epilogue: All Good Things

November 8, 2022
Aberdeen, South Dakota

We had just finished breakfast and were looking forward to another busy day of doing good while still remaining unobtrusive.

“You have to do the cleanup, ’cuz you borrowed my blue dress!” To emphasize her point, Janet poured herself a second cup of coffee.

Her transition had gone far more easily than mine, largely because she had not, in the end, changed genders. President’s Taryn’s compliments must have finally convinced Ensign Worm that there was nothing wrong with my proportions, because Janet shared every luscious curve of them, coupled with a face that would melt the hardest heart. Kind of a cross between the two Hepburns, I thought.

It was nice being able to share clothes.

The first thing on our agenda for the morning was reviewing the most recent update from the President of Gryphon College. He had been good about sparing us details concerning current operations, which were largely unchanged. The college’s sudden decision to close, followed by its even more sudden reversal of that decision less than a week later, meant that the student body was considerably smaller than it was already going to be, but the only people who had lost their jobs so far were President Colerage and the entire Board of Regents.

The only professors that hadn’t returned were James Wainwright and Janet Seldon. They’d disappeared. It was a scandal, and – as Janet said – woomers were wunning wampant. Though none, for once, was stranger than the truth.

What we were really interested in were the new directions the President was planning to take the college, aided by the ad hoc and extremely unconventional group of advisors he had assembled for that purpose. He was proving himself, in this setting as in every other, to be a master at herding cats and marshaling resources. Major generals are good at that.

At least the more modern ones.

One of the “first fruits” of his new administration was the creation of a new institute, the focus of which had not yet been announced. But the college was abuzz with the news that he had managed to recruit Professor Daichi Kurokawa, currently on leave from UCLA, to head it up. Gryphon seldom managed to lure away tenured professors at top-twenty universities. What the faculty did not yet realize was that they had landed one of the foremost experts in the world on the first alien civilization to visit earth.

Kurokawa was in Sharm el-Sheik at present, though that was not widely known. Janet and I knew that he was there, unofficially, as an advisor to the President, who was leading the U.S. delegation at the Climate Conference. Kurokawa’s presence – and the reason for it – would be made clear later in the day, when President Taryn gave his speech to the delegates. Amazingly, news of the alien’s visit had not leaked, and today was the big reveal.

The President’s decision to lead the U.S. delegation personally had thrown the international order into disarray and scrambled the schedules of innumerable heads of state. But his team had promised a substantive discussion of technology transfer, and that had been a real draw. We were eagerly awaiting his speech.

But in the words of one of those poets Janet had me read, “the best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men Gang aft agley.” Sometimes in the strangest possible way. The doorbell rang, and, after our security cameras revealed nothing more sinister than a middle-age guy with a bored expression and a pot-belly, I opened the door to the cold November air. Maybe we should have gone to Bolivia instead. “Can I help you?”

He looked a bit taken aback.

I’d gotten used to my appearance having that effect on unprepared men, though I did not take as much overt delight in it as Janet did.

But he set his shoulders and said, “I expect you can, young lady.” As Janet joined me at the door, he added, “And your sister, too.”

I looked at him expectantly. “Yes? And?”

“Miss, you’re supposed to be in school.”

Absurd! “What’s it to you?” I challenged.

“What’s it to me? Well, it’s my job. I’m the truancy officer. Come on now, you both need to come with me.”

Janet and I looked at each other and began to laugh, and once we started we couldn’t stop. We laughed until we howled, tears were streaming down both of our faces, our makeup was a disaster and the truancy officer was looking acutely uncomfortable.

“Holy hand grenade of Antioch!” Janet gasped. “How did we not see that coming?”

The End.

* * * * *

Author’s Note: Joy Be With You All

If everyone will indulge – and Erin forgive – me, I’d like to take just a moment to break the Third Rule.

This is about you. It’s all about you.

Starting a serial is like volunteering to pilot a ship without knowing how big it is, how long the voyage will be or how many stops you’ll take, while having only the vaguest notion of the final destination. The only thing that prevents disaster, week after week, episode after episode, is the people who are crazy enough to get on the boat with you.

To everyone who read the story, thank you. And an extra thank-you if you left a kudo or two along the way. Unless you’ve posted a story, you can’t know how much that means.

This is the third story I’ve posted in serial form and it was by far the hardest to write. But the comments I received for every installment kept me powering through, when my brain was fried and my so-called muse was swirling her hips at some hotter chicks in a writer’s bar somewhere in Orion’s Shadow. (Aside: muses are hussies. My advice: make ‘em welcome when they stop by, but don’t wait for ’em).

I read every comment, I thought about them, and I took joy, energy, and sometimes direction from them. You made me think, and think again, and come up with answers to problems that hadn’t even occurred to me, and better answers to ones that had.

So let me name names. A special thank you to Catherd, Kimmie and Guest Reader (the amazing trio who always kept the discussions lively), to that courtly, sweet and thoughtful gentleman Robert Louis, to Dee Sylvan (truly the kindest, most affirming commenter on the site, and a genuine, warm, and wonderful woman), BelfastCity (whose relevant knowledge base left me trembling), Rachel Moore (about whom more later), Dot (“DorothyColleen,” the queen of huggles), Joanne (“Joannebarbarella,” a font of wit and wisdom), Jill (“Angela Rasch;” see infra paragraph 7), Karen J (who helped keep the story from going too far down the rabbit-hole of silliness), Barb (“BarbieLee,” that crazy cowgirl), Bru-of-the-razor-wit, AlisonP (who welcomed me to BCTS and always reads my scribblings), Julia Miller, Dreamweaver, Erin Halfelven, Dave (the wonderfully empathetic “Outsider”), Dallas (“D. Eden”), Maxkm70 (I wish I could have given you more Italian humor!), Terrynaut-of-the-eight-parakeets, Syldrak, Patricia Marie Allen, Eric, D_2008, Ricky, Withheld, Ellipsis, Diana (“Geekydee”), Polly (“Intrigue75”), Sarah Selveg, Stacy, Byteback (I did finally allude to your joke!), Cbee, Court, Emily 63, Erisian, Gwen Brown, Hypatia Littlewings, Iolanthe Portmanteau, Jeri Elaine, Joreymay, Ronni (“Laika”), Lisa Danielle, Leona MacMurchie, Marina (“Md”), Meadow Greene, Mondial88, Oz1eye, SamStarlight, Sara_J, ShadowCat: 12, Siteseer, Speaker, Tmf and Winter Cark. This story would not have been written – or at least, it might not have been finished, without your input and encouragement.

Beyond the comments, which everyone has seen and appreciated, Catherd gave me frequent proofreading catches (and humorous asides) on the QT and Jill Rasch gave me a thorough edit of the first several chapters, providing me with a template for writing more effective dialogue (where I’ve fallen short, it’s on me). Jill also helped me with some key cultural references and frequently boosted this story in blog comments. Every time she did, readership spiked. Jill, you are the E.F. Hutton of BC/TS.

A very special thanks to Rachel Moore, who’s had to “listen” to me freaking out more Tuesdays than not, when the weekly installment resisted my increasingly panicked efforts to come together. She beta tested some difficult chapters, encouraged me to have faith in my writing when faith was warranted, and gently talked me out of some of my crazier ideas. Rachel is a brilliant writer who knows how to keep it real. She’s an even better friend. Rachel, as Troi Harris would say (quoting you), “you da bomb, girl!

And a final note of appreciation to Erin/Joyce for creating and sustaining this incredible space for writers and readers of trans stories. You are an inspiration to me. As a writer, because I aspire to your light and deft touch with characters, dialogue and humor, and as a person, because of your dedication to this amazing community. One of the characters I sketched in this story is an homage of sorts. I left you plenty of clues. ;-)

Dee likened our comments group to the Cheers bar, so let me leave you with this.

But since it falls unto my lot
That I should rise and you should not
I'll gently rise and softly call
Good night and joy be with you all.

Emma Anne Tate
3rd March, 2023

For information about my other stories, please check out my author's page.