by Adrian Gaetano
For Mary Sue - wherever she may be now - with the fondest of memories“Sorry, Mr. Blanca…” smirked the Studio guard to the nearest actor as the group approached the exit, “…but there’s a few fans waiting outside…may I suggest you people use the other gate…”
Pedro Blanca sighed and grinned back at the guard.
“Nothing like an adoring public…” he grinned, “The price of fame, eh?”
”Something like that…” the guard grinned back.
“I thought that the Studio was implementing new security measures?” asked Uriah Short, another of the actors.
The guard shrugged apologetically, “I’m sorry, sir, but those new measures don’t arrive until tomorrow…maybe!” He tipped his hat.
Blanca shrugged dramatically and turned to his companions.
“Well, folks…” he announced, “Looks like we have the long walk home again, tonight…”
“Damn…” grimaced Uriah.
“Not that I mind the exercise, mind you…” added Ellen Hockman, “…but it’s just that my car’s left in the staff car park, and I’ll have to pay overnight fees again…”
“As I often say, folks, that’s the price of fame…” Blanca smirked, “That’s what we get for saving the Earth every day…”
They began their walk down the unlit and solitary Studio back lots.
“Hmph!” hmphed M’enga Ulloway, the last of the group, “”What I’d give to have access to a working space ship teleportation unit…then we could travel from the studio to home and back again in the flash of an eye…with no problems with fans…”
“Yeah…” admitted Blanca, “I suppose we’ve all often wished for that…but sadly, real life is never as exotic as fantasy…”
Ellen looked skywards, past the scaffolding and brickwork of her mundane surroundings.
“Just imagine…” she said wistfully, “If real life really was like it is on our TV show, then something exciting would be sure to happen to us about now!”
“If this was like our TV show…” Blanca scoffed soberly, “This scene would be the establishing shot, merely introducing us. It would also introduce some unknown danger just before the opening credits faded in.…but we all know that real life is not episodic like it is on TV…”
A rainbow-coloured flash sparkled and shimmered in the air behind them. An unidentified character appeared in the alley, and as soon as his feet solidified on the ground, he ran to quickly hide behind the corner of the nearest building and fiddle with something on one hand.
The actors continued their walk, not realising that they were being watched by this shadowy figure.
A massive star field filled the cinema screen. The newly enhanced Clan Ship Krellick’aa - digitally recomposited due to newly available computer generated effects - flew meaningfully into the field of view.
The familiar voice began an updated narration:
“Humans are not alone in the Universe…
“After our initial contact with the Krellick, a select few are permitted to travel in their interstellar craft…”
A number of action shots, from previous years’ episodes, filled the screen. They all focussed upon the main actor from the series, Pedro Blanca.
“Like all interstellar astronauts, Alan Braddock has been compelled to covenant to his clan group, the Komar, so he can join their extended family aboard the Clan Ship Krellick’aa…”
- A shot from the opening episode, seven seasons back - Blanca as Alan stands respectfully yet confidently aboard the alien ship.
“I am Alan…my birthplace was America…I seek to join your clan.”
A blue light sparkles and symbolically joins him to the computer-generated Somas.
Somas: “We are bonded, Aa’lan…Merick…”
- Back to the opening narration:
“With a new name and a new identity, Alan Merick commands the human liaison contingent as they explore the galaxy aboard the alien ship…
“…And the galaxy that awaits them on their space journeys…”
“Pedro Blanca as Aa’lan Merick…” Blanca jumped, punched and stared meaningfully into the screen.
“Ellen Hockman as Jaa’net Europa…” Hockman jumped, fired a blaster and stared back meaningfully into the screen.
“M’enga Ulloway as cyber life sentient Nikto…” In a clip from episode one, Ulloway stared intelligently into the screen and stated dispassionately, “I am capable of downloading and replaying many stored sentient life forms, including the collected consciousness of many scientists and philosophers…”
“Special Guest Star: Uriah Short as Admiral Mohammad Mullah…” Short puffed out his chest proudly, in front of the Galactic Concordium Headquarters logo.
The Krellick’aa flew past once again as the music reached a crescendo, then the titles faded away to static.
“Lights!” called Illias Fogg, and the cinema lights flickered on. The series creator/producer turned to Pedro Blanca and Ellen Hoffman, and he grinned as the last echoes from the stirring fanfare faded away.
“What do you think, people?”
“Impressive…I have to admit that space ship looks realistic. I liked the way you included moving figures inside the windows…” replied Ellen.
“And the new musical score..?” added Blanca.
“South Beijing Philharmonic, no less!” Fogg replied proudly.
“Wow!” grinned Ellen. Pedro nodded his apparent approval. Illias Fogg sat back in his chair.
“Then it’s settled. That will be next season’s opening credits…”
Pedro added an afterthought, “…but do you have to include that fight clip from the episode where I battled the swamp thing? It seems so…out of context with the other clips, which are all based aboard the ship…”
Fogg frowned, “Good point. Of course, you could argue that using at a planet clip balances out the ship-based scenes, but I suppose some fans might see it as a continuity flaw…”
He paused momentarily before continuing, “…and those characters you can see moving inside the space ship windows…again, some fans might object, given the possible danger from solar or cosmic radiation, but still, it looks nice…
“Anyhow…” he announced proudly, “We’re ready to attach this opener to all the episodes for season eight!”
Ellen and Pedro exchanged amused glances. They were used to working with Fogg, a man whose very professional name gave away his background as a dedicated science fiction aficionado. Nor would they wish to complain about his eccentricities anyway - his creative genius had taken a science fiction series into Hollywood history. In the last seven years, his series had won scores of artistic and creative awards, science fiction plaudits and critical acclaim. Many of its and phrases had already passed into widespread use, and its main characters had become icons for western culture. Five movies had been filmed, with many more promised.
“Who are you?”
The other humans regarded him with deep suspicion. Clearly, Ganymede folk were not used to having visitors.
Merick paused. He heard the telepathic warning from Somas.
“Merick! Remember that they know nothing of the gluon accelerator that instantly transported you there! Remember, also, that they may interpret any such device as a threat to their security!”
“I am Merick…” he said simply.
“Merick?” said one woman disbelievingly. “The man whose name and reputation precedes him across the known galaxy?”
“Merick?” scoffed another man, “The human whose accomplishments make him seem more like a legend than a real man?”
Outer space orchestral music swelled to a crescendo in the vacuum of space.
“Yes!” said Merick proudly, “I am that man!”
The familiar calls for him began as soon as he passed his office on the way towards the sound stages.
“Hey, Mr. Blanca!” called Bessie, “I’ve got a few requests in the mail that need your personal attention!”
Blanca nodded with sympathy. He knew that his secretary was very hardworking - if she said she had “a few” items in the mail, that meant she had probably vetted five hundred items and handpicked three or four of the most worthy items for his personal attention.
“Go ahead, Bessie.”
She shuffled through piles of fan mail and consequent official autographed photos, selecting four letters from near the top of one pile.
“A request from the Hispanic SJ club of South America - they want you to send a personalised photo for the cover of their fanzine, ‘El Aa’lan.”
“Fine…” he answered, scribbling a few words onto the proffered photo, “…Next!”
“The Official SJ club wants to set up an interview with you for the next issue of their glossy newsagent tabloid…”
“I guess…just arrange it for any work day before the eighteenth…I don’t want to get tied up after current shooting schedule finishes…”
“Yes, Mr. Blanca…the SJ club of Bangladesh ask if you could make their annual convention next June…”
Pedro frowned, “Mmm…I doubt it…but let them know my usual contractual requirements as a preliminary gesture…”
“Yessir. And lastly, the editors of…a fanzine… want to know if you’d be willing to sign a Foreword for their next edition…”
He sensed a slight hesitation in her voice.
“Details...?” he asked by way of raising his eyebrows.
“Well, the fanzine is named ‘We Are Bonded’ and it…it’s a gay and lesbian ‘zine. I didn’t know how you felt about…” she trailed off helplessly.
Blanca smiled sympathetically. He understood what she was trying to say. Bessie knew of his personal sexual orientation, and obviously suspected that he might wish to offer support to fans who were kindred spirits to himself - but she also knew the Studio policy about their biggest star ‘outing’ himself, especially when his character was known as the biggest womaniser in this (or any other) galaxy.
Bessie handed him the paper, and he quickly scanned its contents.
“Hmmm….a call for justice and inclusion…the show promotes equality for all…and so on and so forth…”
“Mmm…I see what you mean,” he replied, “Tell you what, bounce it upstairs to Illias Fogg. Our show won that human rights award a couple of years ago for allegedly promoting tolerance. Let’s see what he says. If he supports it, then I’ll happily sign. If he cans it, I don’t want to go out on a limb by myself…”
Bessie nodded, and took back the paper. Blanca moved off to begin preparation for the day’s work. His next stop: the costuming and make up departments.
He had barely begun his walk when a figure appeared from around the nearest corner of the corridor. In a flash, the two men collided. The second person - a younger man - let out an exclamation of astonishment and dropped a pile of papers as he fell to the floor. Startled, Pedro Blanca knelt down and clutched at the young man’s elbow.
“Are you all right? I’m sorry…I didn’t see you coming!”
The other man was rubbing a sore elbow while also trying to clutch at the dropped papers.
“It’s my fault, I was rushing and not looking where I was…” his eyes met Pedro’s, and then widened, “Oh my…you’re Commander Merick!”
“Pedro…Pedro Blanca….” He extended his hand, and they shook hands, “And you are..?”
“Andrew, Mr. Blanca…Andrew Ginny…” the young man was collecting all the papers together.
“Here, let me help you with that, Andrew…” Blanca helped him to gather the papers, and then he helped Andrew to his feet.
“Forgive me, I haven’t seen you around here before, have I?”
“No, sir. I just started work here this morning…”
“I see…” Pedro flashed his most charming smile, “Tell you what, as a way of saying ‘sorry’ for this…how about I meet you at lunchtime? My shout.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary, Mr. Blan-”
“Call me Pedro. And I insist on lunch. It’s the least I can do…” Again, he flashed his most charming smile. Andrew relented.
“Well, okay, if you insist..Mr - er… Pedro…”
“Good, that’s settled then. How about one o’clock, at the Studio canteen next to Gate Eight?”
Andrew nodded silently, returning the smile. Pedro slapped silently him on his arm, and they each went their own way.
Pedro grinned. Perhaps today would be a good day after all. For a start, he had proved to himself once again that, as far as men were concerned, he could still manipulate a situation to his own advantage.
Only much later would he realise that he had been outdone by a master.
“Is the ship alive?” she asked the aliens, “Like some…bio-organic life form?”
“Not in the sense you mean ‘organic’…” replied the first of the alien chorus, “…but certainly, the ship is alive, as all Artificial Intelligence is alive…”
“I see…”
“And now, a question in return…” asked others from the alien hive-mind.
She nodded in agreement.
“You are different from the other human, Merick…”
“Yes…I am female…Merick is male…”
“Those terms need clarification. From our scans, we sense that you personally possess the individual capacity for biological reproduction?”
Jaa’net blushed, “Yes…
“And Merick lacks this personal capacity?”
“Well…yes, in the sense that you mean. But Merick and his kind contribute some of the genetic material necessary for human reproduction.”
“But would it not be more efficient to simply eliminate the extra step, and to undertake the process without reliance upon males? Do you not possess the technological capacity to allow this?
Jaa’net grinned, “We have the technology…but most humans still prefer procreation the old fashioned, traditional way…”
Ellen Hockman was smiling as she arrived back for work after her lunch break. Indeed - more than smiling - she was positively glowing. Her acting colleague, M’enga Ulloway, was waiting for her in the alleyway outside the Sound Stages, and he immediately suspected the cause of her happiness.
“What’s the news, girl?” he said excitedly. She clasped his hands in joy and jumped up and down.
“M’enga, it’s happened! The IVF clinic has approved my case! I’m going to be a mother!”
They embraced and laughed joyously, until the tears streamed down their faces. Then, M’enga paused cautiously.
“Now, Elley, you’ve got to have a talk to Illias Fogg. After all, when the joyous time approaches, you’ll need some time off the show…”
“That’s not the half of it…” Ellen agreed, “Can you imagine how the fans will react? After all, my character, Jaa’net, is a bit conservative - hardly the sort of woman to become a single parent!”
They shared another carefree, uninhibited laugh.
“But M’enga…” Ellen said, patting her friend’s arm, “You are right - this has to be announced delicately. I need to ask you a favour. Promise me that you won’t tell anyone until after I announce it. Promise me!”
“Only if I can be the child’s godfather…” smirked M’enga.
“We are bonded, Merick,” said the alien Cletus. The human returned the stare with a touch of pride.
“We are clan brothers…” he agreed. The alien waved a tentacle.
“One day you and I shall be further bonded, just as I am bonded with these others…”
Cletus and Merick turned to face a clutch of aliens standing reverentially to one side, many of them with interlocked tentacles.
“I…look forward to that day, Cletus…”
“Then your planet has a good ambassador…one who understands tolerance and good will…”
“Of course, most of our show is garbage…” shrugged Pedro, as he and Andrew sat together in the Studio canteen, “…but that’s because most literature is garbage..!” He glanced around conspiratorially, “Just don’t tell anyone I said that, will you?”
Andrew grinned and tapped his bread stick. He did not seem too hungry - at least, to Pedro, he appeared to be more interested in chatting than in eating.
“You don’t really believe that..?” the young man replied, “After all, your show has won awards…it’s inspired people everywhere!”
Pedro gave a dramatic wave of one hand as though to dismiss the comment,. “Phaaa…the show is full of cliché and stereotype…People read things into it that they want to read…”
He took a mouthful of bread, “Let me give you an example. Our show’s creator, Illias Fogg, created this race of computer-generated aliens…and many of them are bisexual or gay - not that we ever specifically state that, of course, it’s all implied. That was one way of slipping queer characters into the show without offending the Bible belt. After all, the aliens are strange and…well, alien! And they are computer generated, so how could anyone take offence at that? In response to that, many fans - most of them heterosexual women - have expanded upon the idea and written whole fanzines full of stories about my heterosexual character having a…relationship…with the aliens.”
Pedro paused, studying the other man for a reaction.
“You mean, like ‘slash’ stories?” Andrew said shyly. Pedro grinned and nodded.
“I see you really are a fan of the show!”
“I’ve…studied the show somewhat. And I think that it’s…cool…that the show has attempted to be so inclusive.”
Pedro grinned again. His suspicions appeared to be confirmed, “I’m glad you feel that way…” he said softly, and gently reached across to touch Andrew’s hand. Andrew returned the smile, and they discretely allowed their fingers to entwine for a brief moment.
From deep within the canteen, they could hear the sound of violins - a couple of the Studio’s musicians were practising a musical interlude while they ate lunch.
Then, conscious that they were in a public place, Andrew and Pedro withdrew their hands. Pedro looked at Andrew’s lunch.
“You’ve hardly eaten anything. Don’t you like the food?”
Andrew paused, “It’s not quite…what I’m used to…”
“Yeah…” Pedro shrugged casually, “This canteen food can be garbage sometimes. Tell you what…how about dinner tonight?”
Andrew seemed reluctant, “I don’t know. I’m new to town and don’t know many places yet…”
“That’s fine!” Pedro sat back, pleased, “Let me show you around. I know a great place for dinner, then I’ll show you the town after that!”
Andrew grinned shyly and nodded.
The human crew of the Clan Ship Krellick’aa - along with their three computer-generated alien main characters and shipmates - all stared at the alien landscape surrounding them.
“I think we’re in trouble…” muttered Jaa’net.
“That would appear to be somewhat of an understatement…” confirmed Nikto.
“Yes, but look..!” gasped Merick in awe, spreading his arms wide and looking up.
The camera panned upwards, following his viewpoint.
The galaxy, in all its awe and splendour, shone silently upon them.
“Behold the wonders of the Universe…” Merick’s voice continued.
Illias Fogg was a man on a mission. Born as a male in a world where masculinity was so often judged by sporting prowess, he had suffered from a childhood heart condition which had prevented him from active participation in such activities. Instead, he discovered the world of books.
In books, he had learned to imagine - how to be a sportsman…and more. He could imagine being a musician, a magician, a writer…and more! He could be a scientist, an inventor, a poet, a doctor, an astronaut, an endless list of such possibilities…and so much more!
Illias had also grown up in a world where television and the Internet had played an important part of everyday life. He had shared in the visions of so many others…and then he began to create his own ideas.
Illias recalled a seminal event from his own childhood - the announcement, late last century, of the discovery of possible fossils from Mars. He had been filled with excitement at such possibilities! His own discovery of science fiction had followed soon after - the works of Wells and Verne, of Martian invasions and trips to the Moon - beginning a lifelong enthusiasm. Illias Fogg became a Fan. (His professional name, Illias Fogg, had been born in those early days, as a tribute to one of the grand masters of science fiction.)
Later in childhood, Illias had lapped up all the video science fiction shows - the homogenised, pre-packaged and slick productions from America; the homegrown rough diamonds from Australia and New Zealand - but his personal favourites remained the slightly zany, offbeat and camp productions from the UK.
It was only natural that he would eventually find a fellow fan with whom to share his life - and Chinese lass Mary Soo had come along at the right time. They fell in love, married and had a family - when such activities had not interfered with their fannish proclivities. It was from Mary Soo that Illias had learned an important lesson in life, one so often forgotten by professional people in his industry: that the artist and audience should work together as one, if they are to achieve their fullest potential.
From there, Illias had drifted into professional television - but he never forgot his roots. It was his humility which made his series the most successful television program in history. Illias had actively encouraged fan clubs and conventions, where people got together to discuss and resolve scientific errors or continuity flaws in the episodes. He promoted and encouraged fanzines - electronic and otherwise - whereby fans could create possibilities for his fictional characters, including the creation of offshoot virtual worlds, ‘slash’ stories and fan films - and, when he liked the results, he hired those same fans to write for his series.
He had gone out on a limb by ensuring that every second or third episode contained a cameo appearance by an astronaut or scientist, a prominent writer or world renowned humanitarian. Many of his staff: his stable of writers, his costuming experts, his special effects and computer wizards, his alien linguistics tutors, his scientific advisors - all these people were science fiction fans or real-life space science experts, astronomers and xenobiologists.
His only risk had been an occasional grumble from a real life acquaintance, who complained that they had somehow appeared as a character in his series - or from another artist or author who claimed that Illias had possibly taken his inspiration from characters or scenes that were inspired by previous shows. Illias always explained that his inclusion of other people or scenes was always intended as a tribute: imitation is, after all, the sincerest form of flattery. People generally accepted his good natured explanation and his sincerity, forgiving him for any unintentional transgressions.
As a storyteller, Illias had inspired a whole generation. Universities and Scientific Foundations had reported runaway enrolment figures just as the TV show’s own ratings simultaneously launched like a rocket. His TV series had become the biggest entertainment phenomenon in history - the world’s first and greatest form of mass generated, interactive folk art. It could not fail -
- except for one possible problem. The Film Studios that owned a significant proportion of the series, the folk who paid the bills, occasionally got a bit squeamish. Some of their directives from ‘on high’ were ridiculous or blatantly mercenary, and could be easily dismissed. But sometimes they gave a directive that was difficult for Illias to totally ignore. That afternoon, he was wrestling with one such instruction.
Dammit, how could he tell Blanca about this decision?
From distant orbit, the planet below looked beautiful in their viewscreen. Then Jaa’net gasped in horror. Even Nikto gasped, and Komar clan members snapped their mandibles in agitation.
“Those bloody fools!” Merick wailed.
The viewscreen showed the horror - flashes of light on the planet’s surface were evidence of mushroom clouds - the planet was starting its final war.
“Why…my god, WHY…couldn’t they have learnt to live together in peace?” moaned Merick.
Costumes and make up always took less time to remove at the end of the day than they took to apply at the start - and that was just as well. The actors felt tired as they finally finished their work day and headed for the car park. Ellen Hockman looked at her watch.
“11 pm!” she announced curtly.
“It’s been a long day…” Pedro Blanca agreed.
“It’ll seem even longer when we have to be back here in six hours to report for tomorrow’s make up…” grumbled Uriah.
Ellen suddenly stopped walking and tapped Pedro’s arm. He stopped, looked briefly at her face, then turned to follow her gaze.
Andrew Ginny was standing in the car park, waiting patiently alongside Pedro’s car.
“And just who is that?” Ellen said with a smile. Pedro shrugged.
“A…friend…” he said innocently.
M’enga gave a highly exaggerated moan, “Ooo-ooo-ooh! He’s a bit young, don’t you think?” he added with a tone of disapproval.
“What’s age?” Pedro replied flippantly, “Age is just a number! Don’t forget that episode we did a couple of years ago - the swamp monster of Algar was at least 600 years older than its partner…”
“So are you comparing yourself to the swamp monster?” Uriah said jokingly, “As I seem to remember, that monster got munched by its partner in the final reel…”
“Aah...!” Pedro waved his finger reproachfully, “Don’t forget that the inhabitants of that planet ultimately learnt from their mistake…they learnt to love each other instead of hate!”
“Don’t mind M’enga…” soothed Ellen, as they resumed their walk, “He’s just jealous…Have a good night, but just don’t be late for work tomorrow!”
They reached their separation point at the edge of the car park, and bade each other goodbye until the next day.
Pedro reached his car - and his date. They kissed.
“Thanks for waiting for me!” Pedro said, waving goodbye to Ellen as she drove past them in her car and tooted an acknowledgement.
“That’s fine…” Andrew said. Pedro looked at his date, “Well, Andy, I promised you a night on the town. Time’s a’wastin!”
Admiral Mohammad Mullah sat apprehensively in his chair, “I’m ready…” he announced uncertainly, then repeated himself with a tone of increased confidence.
“As you wish, Admiral…” came a disembodied voice. Suddenly, Admiral Mullah sat gave a gasp and sat back sharply in his seat, as if propelled backwards by a sudden shock. The scene faded into a kaleidoscope of fleeting colours, urgent sounds and subliminal images - an electronic highway.
“Welcome to our Universe, Admiral…” said the first disembodied voice.
“A Universe within a Universe…” added a second.
“It’s…amazing…mind boggling…” came Mullah’s voice as a close up of his eyes appeared briefly on the screen.
“This is our world…” explained the first voice, “A Universe on the scale of the electron and atom…”
“Capable of knowing - processing - understanding so much more than your own people…” added the second voice, “…and on a time scale impossibly quick for your frames of reference…”
“It’s amazing…” repeated Mullah, in a tone of deep appreciation, “Wondrous!”
“Now you understand, Admiral,” explained the first voice, “Why we are the next step in evolution, a superior life form…”
“Why we must inevitably replace your own kind…” added the second, “Just as your species replaced the Neanderthal…”
“NO!” called the Admiral’s voice urgently, and a close up of his eyes reappeared, complete with droplets of sweat visible around his temples.
“You must understand...!” the Admiral’s voice continued, “The history of my species is a long and bloody one…where one or another group of people believed themselves to be superior to their neighbours. Mass murder, forced assimilation, genocide, ethnic cleansing…these were all practised in the past, to the widespread shame of my species now. I beg you to learn the lesson of co-existence!”
Uriah Short blinked his eyes as he approached his destination for the night. He parked his car in the self-contained wire cage car park, and made his way into the children’s shelter.
For a few moments, no one reacted as he entered the darkened building. Then, a light snapped on, and a familiar face appeared in a corridor.
“Oh, Uriah…” Ruth smiled as she recognised him, sweeping into the corridor in her night robe, “It’s late…I didn’t know if you were coming here tonight.”
“Of course I was coming here tonight, honey,” Uriah replied, moving forward to hug his wife, “I’m sorry, but the Studio had me working late…”
They moved to a small table, and she flicked a switch to boil a kettle to prepare him a cup of coffee.
“An early start tomorrow?” she asked, sitting down next to him and holding his hand.
“Unfortunately, yes…” he shrugged, “Any news today?”
“A phone call from the Immigration Department…” she replied, “There’s been some movement on Daniel and Sally…seems they finally agree that the children may have a case as refugees…”
“A case..?” Uriah shook his head sadly, “They’re AIDS orphans from one of the poorest nations on Earth…their families were slaughtered in the recent race riots…of course they have a case!”
He shook his head sadly, and looked thoughtful, “It’s ironic, isn’t it? I work full time to bring in an income to run this place…and my day-time job brings me fame and recognition as a co-star in a TV sci fi series, where we present a better world in the future…
“…and yet what I’d really like to be remembered for is that I did what I could to make a difference in this time and place…to help create a better world now…”
Uriah stared at a wall photo of two older people. The man and woman in the photo were now long deceased, except in spirit.
“When my parents told me about how they had so narrowly escaped the Holocaust, I vowed that I would spend my life helping others in similar circumstances…how can we turn our backs on any of these children...?”
The shadowy figure loitered in the frame of the smoky doorway. His evil laugh echoed through the room. In nearby corners, alien children whimpered in fear.
Surrounded by his charges, Merick stood boldly and aimed his stun rifle at the imposing fugure.
“Don’t do this, Mothal!” Merick said boldly.
“Do not fight me, Merick,” replied Mothal, “You cannot win. I have the power of the galaxy at my disposal…These aliens must be eliminated!”
“They are innocent!” protested Merick, “And helpless!”
Mothal laughed with an evil echo. He raised the ancient relic.
“With a flick of the switch…” Mothal roared, “…these aliens will find out that humanity must reign supreme! This relic has a moral vacuum inverter that will eliminate all evil from this room! As you have sided with the enemy, you must share their fate!”
Mothal waved the relic dramatically, “Prepare to die, Merick!” The alien children wailed loudly.
There was a blinding flash, followed by a tsunami of rainbow colours, which ebbed and flowed around the room. The children’s wails trailed away as peace returned to the room.
The doorway was empty. Mothal was gone. Merick looked around, astounded. One of the alien children moved forward to hold his hand. Their eyes met.
“Commander Merick, my people have a saying…” explained the child, “…Nothing is what it seems…”
A panoramic scene was visible outside the restaurant window. Around their dining table, soft music played, candles flickered, and champagne glasses clinked.
Andrew and Pedro raised their own glasses, and silently toasted each other. Andrew’s signet ring sparkled in the candlelight.
“Thank you for bringing me here…” Andrew said, smiling warmly, then cast another appreciative glance out of the windows.
“The scenery out there…” he muttered warmly, “…is so beautiful…so quaint…”
Pedro smiled, “The scenery inside here is pretty nice, too…”
“What?” Andrew asked distractedly, looking back at Pedro.
“Nothing…I agree, the scenery from here is lovely. I was lucky to know this lookout restaurant was open so late…”
Andrew smiled. Pedro paused.
Andrew clutched at his chest pocket, and produced some tablets, which he consumed with a swig of water.
“I’m sorry…” he said apologetically, “I need to take these tablets when I eat or drink something. They help me…digest…”
Pedro shrugged carelessly. Andrew took a deep breath. “Tell me, Pedro…” he asked, “Do you believe in fate?”
Pedro smiled. It was as romantic a line as he had ever heard for a candlelit dinner.
“I believe in the future…” he smiled charmingly. Andrew chuckled quietly.
“And what do you believe about the future..?” he asked.
“Er…I believe that people should prepare for the future…” Pedro answered. Andrew moved his champagne glass aside on the table and patted the tablecloth to add an emphasis to his words.
“You know what I believe, Pedro? I believe that people shouldn’t just prepare for the future…they should plan for it…” his voice was tinged with a certain degree of earnest sincerity, “…they should work for it…they should make it happen!”
Pedro raised his eyebrows, uncertain whether Andrew was using a pick-up line after all.
“I believe that everything we do…” Andrew continued, “…should be an investment for the future…we should act for the best, always…”
Pedro nodded, waiting patiently for understanding. Andrew acquiesced, “I have to admit, Pedro, that I’ve come…a long way…to meet you.”
“Ah…I thought so…just how far..?”
Andrew grimaced slightly, “A lot further than you’d believe…”
Pedro smiled charmingly, “I suspected that you’re a small town country boy.”
“Well, let’s put it this way…” Andrew admitted, “I’m not exactly from around here…Let’s just say that I’m a part of your future…”
Pedro reached across and grabbed Andrew’s hands.
“I’d like that…” he said.
“You don’t really understand what I mean,” said Andrew, “But one day, you will.”
Pedro looked puzzled.
“Let’s get out of here…” Andrew said teasingly.
Merick and Europa were floating in their space suits, surrounded by the harsh reality of cold, open space.
“Is our time up, Commander?” Jaa’net asked.
“While there’s life, there’s hope, Jaa’net!” Merick replied.
The night air was full of sounds - dogs barking in the distance, beer bottles tinkling and breaking in gutters, cars passing on the nearby main thoroughfares.
The street might at first have appeared to be empty to a passing traveller - but it was a microcosm of the wider world, full of hidden folk living their hidden lives.
The homeless folk sat in their shop alcoves and rubbed their gloved hands together as their breath misted into clouds around them. It was a cold night.
The loudest sound in their world was the tinny soundtrack emanating from the TV sets which were glaring and boasting, on display in a shop window, televising the city’s most popular series into the night air.
“Love that Merick…” muttered one youngster. An old man chuckled.
“…You wait a few years, lad. You’ll find that young Janet Europa is a bit allright…”
Another man, nearby, gave his thumbs up.
“No…I just reckon that show is cool…” said the youngster, “It gives me hope…even though life can get us down, at least we can have a vision for the future because…” The rest of his sentence was drowned out by the sound of a passing car.
Inside that car, Andrew grinned at the street folk as they drove past.
“How quaint…” he said softly.
“Quaint?” quizzed Pedro as he drove.
“In a parochial sort of way,” added Andrew.
“That’s the second time tonight you’ve called things quaint. As though things around here were strange…”
He eyed the other, “…Where exactly did you say you were from?”
Andrew avoided giving an answer, and rested his head on Pedro’s shoulder as the other man drove.
“Are you okay?” Pedro asked.
“I’m sorry…it’s late…and the champagne…”
“Oh…” said Pedro slowly, feeling disappointed. Andrew recognised that tone of disappointment and sat up quickly.
“Oh, don’t get me wrong. The night is still young…it’s just that those tablets…sometimes I have bit of a reaction…”
“…I see…”
“They’re travel tablets…” Andrew explained, “I’m not used to your food and water yet…and those tablets help settle my stomach…”
“I see…” Pedro repeated, “They’re like…anti-nausea tablets?”
“More like anti-bacterial tablets…” Andrew replied.
“…Mmmm..?”
Andrew looked serious, “Pedro, a few moments ago, you asked me exactly where I’m from.”
“Yes.”
“Well, what would you say if you met someone from the future?”
Pedro smiled and looked at Andrew, “What..?”
“Those tablets…I’m used to a more sterilised environment in the future. I risk contamination if I imbibe your food or drink…so I have to take these tablets…”
Pedro paused, then broke into a good natured chuckle, "You know, Andrew, they say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery…”
He turned to face Andrew and whispered confidentially, “…at least, that’s what Illias Fogg says, whenever he copies some character from an old science fiction series and puts him in the show…”
He slapped Andrew’s shoulder, “I’ve heard some good stories from fans…but yours takes the cake…”
Andrew shrugged, and raised his hand. His signet ring shone in the reflected light from passing street lights.
“Oh well…” he said casually, and manipulated the signet ring with the fingers of his other hand…
…the street around the car disappeared in a rainbow-coloured shimmer. Suddenly, Pedro was driving his car in an abandoned virgin forest.
“What the hell..?” yelled Pedro, and slammed on the brakes, stopping the car just in time to prevent it from ploughing into a tree.
The car came to a halt. Pedro turned wildly to Andrew.
“What the hell did you do? Where the hell are we?”
“I activated my time shuttle. We are in the same place as before….just some hundreds of years before the street was built.”
“Are you crazy? Why, I could’ve...!” Pedro began, but took a gulp and calmed down. Wildly, he looked around again.
”You showed me the scenery earlier tonight…” Andrew said with a grin, “Now, I’m showing you that same scenery…au naturale!”
“But…” Pedro whimpered, but was lost for words. He glanced around, and then raised his hands in surrender, “What do you want me to do? I might as well turn off the car engine…doesn’t look like we’re going anywhere…”
“Don’t worry,” soothed Andrew, twiddling his signet ring again, “We may not go anywhere…but what about anywhen?”
…the street was the same as before, except that their car was stopped in the middle of the road.
“We’re back..!” Andrew announced smugly.
“Wha..?” began Pedro, but was immediately interrupted by the sound of another car behind theirs. There was a screech of brakes and a violent honking of a car horn.
“Stop blocking the road, ‘ya bloody mug!” roared a voice.
Pedro gave a conciliatory wave and resumed his drive.
There was silence for a short while.
“Who are you?” Pedro finally blurted, “What do you want?”
Andrew reached across and rested a hand gently on one of Pedro’s. “Who I am…is a traveller. Once I arrived in your time, it was easy to hack into your primitive security systems and forge an identity for myself…get myself a temporary job at your Studios…”
Pedro listened silently but tensely as Andrew continued.
“And as for what I want…it’s all right, Pedro. I mean you no harm…I’m just here to ensure that…you fulfil the future. You see, a fork in the road is coming…a cosmic fork, that is. I came back in time to ensure that you were…fully empowered…to reach the right decision.”
“I see…you’re here to change the past?”
“No, silly…I can’t do that. That would create a self-cancelling paradox. All I can do is to observe…and to guide you to realising your own full potential.”
“?”
“To help the future happen.”
“I see. So, assuming what you’re saying is true…what, exactly do you want me to do?”
“I can’t tell you that, Pedro! All I can say is that I’m here…to help you learn to be true to yourself.”
“I think I’m getting a headache…” Pedro mumbled. Andrew grinned.
“That would be a real pity. You see, the other thing I’m here to do is to…explore your local customs!”
He held Pedro’s hand tightly, and the car roared on into the early hours of the morning.
The inside of the spaceship was lavish and opulent. Merick stood stiffly to attention, aware of the gravity of his situation.
The Princess moved forward and cooed seductively. The focus of the scene became an extreme close up with soft focus and romantic music.
“Commander Merick…it is time for us to…seal the contract…”
“I…understand…” Merick said hesitantly.
“Given the importance of this covenant between our two planets, Commander, I believe it is appropriate for us to follow my people’s customary procedure…
“When two people are about to about to sign a contract of great importance…” the Princess whispered seductively, gently stroking his lips with one of her fingers, “… they must prove their …intimate trust of each other by…sharing other things of equal intimacy…”
“I see…” said Merick, trying not to look too taken aback, “That must do…wonders for gay rights in your planet’s corporate boardrooms…”
The Princess moved her hand to silence his lips.
“When you are ready…” she said,”…come to my personal boudoir…I shall be waiting…just make sure you bring some protection…”
“Er…protection?”
“Come, now, Commander, we are both mature adults for our species. We have both travelled many worlds and been exposed to many forms of alien microbes and virus. It is only fitting that I insist on protection…”
She pointed to a small barrel sitting opulently amidst the splendour.
“The potion can be applied as a spray or as a rub-on lotion, Commander. It will take about one of your minutes to set into a thin protective layer…there should be sufficient in that container to cover your needs…”
Merick looked unsettled.
“Sufficient? Princess, there must be ten litres in that container. With sincere thanks from my male ego for your flattery, but exactly how much of this do you think I will need?”
The Princess now looked vaguely unsettled.
“Commander…it is an entire body condom…a person in my situation cannot be too careful…”
The two men arrived in Pedro’s bedroom. There, they paused and kissed. Then Andrew nuzzled Pedro’s ear, and spoke softly.
“Do you have…protection?”
Pedro nodded silently, and produced some condoms from a bedside drawer.
“If you really are from the future,” he said, “I think it’s interesting that you still ask for protection.”
“Why?” Andrew asked, slightly puzzled, “Don’t you believe in safe sex?”
“Of course! Every time! That is…for people in my time…” Pedro answered, “But I would have hoped that people in your time would have found a cure for AIDS by then.”
Andrew chuckled and rested his head against Pedro’s chest.
“Of course we have, silly. Anti-HIV is a standard innoculation among my people. I’m not trying to protect you from the HIV virus…I’m trying to ensure that I don’t accidentally infect you with the antidote!”
Nikto proudly patted the computer console.
“Commander Merick, Sub-Commander Europa…please meet SAM…the Sentient Automated Mechanism. SAM and I are…lovers…”
Al’aan Merick looked startled.
Jaa’net Europa grinned proudly and said, “Congratulations! I’m so happy for you both...!”
“But Nikto…” protested Merick, “Are you and SAM…er…compatible?”
“If you mean to ask whether we meet each other’s psychological and intellectual needs, then affirmative, Commander. The intellectual stimulation we provide each other is quite abundant. Other forms of…mutual compatibility…are not always as important as you might be suggesting…”
“Love…” agreed Jaa’net Europa, “You’re saying that love is the most important thing, Nikto. And yes, humans do agree with that!”
M’enga Ulloway was home after a long day’s work and a long drive back to his house. Now was the time of day he enjoyed most - spending time with the ones he loved.
He strode to his computer and turned it on. Within moments, he was hooked up to the Virtual Universe.
“M’enga!” he was greeted by one of his cyber lovers. Her announcement echoed throughout her Virtual World.
“M’enga! So good to see you again!” welcomed another of his cyber lovers from another corner of the same Virtual World, who moved his icon forward so that it would come into contact with M’enga’s virtual form.
M’enga enjoyed this time of communion. Ever since puberty, when his emerging bisexuality had forced him to become something of a social outcast among his own family, he had enjoyed the free and uninhibited love of his Virtual Companions.
“Don’t you think we should get on the shuttle, Nikto?” asked Merick.
“Yes…” began Nikto, and the others turned towards the space shuttle.
“…I do not think we should get on the shuttle…” continued the android, completing his answer.
Merick and the others sighed and stopped moving forward. The cyber-sentient life form, Nikto, always took double negatives literally!
“If I may ask, Commander…” Nikto continued seriously, “I request a point of clarification regarding your use of Galactic Standard English. What is the difference between getting on the shuttle…and getting in the shuttle?”
“Now is not the time for a grammar lesson, Nikto!”
Andrew leant back in bed, put his hands behind his head, and stretched out.
“What do you think of the android character in your show?” he asked casually.
“Nikto?” Pedro was lying next to him, “Are you going to tell me that he is the…prototype…for some form of intelligent life in the future?”
Andrew reached to his trouser pocket and extracted a packet of bio-chewing gum from the drawer. He unwrapped a bar, popped it into his mouth and then screwed up the wrapper, throwing it into the bedside bin. Then, he reclined back into the bed and chewed gum. This was the only form of post-coital relaxation which he would allow himself - after all, he came from a culture where alcohol and tobacco were socially incorrect.
“He just reminds me so much of...myself,” Andrew finally replied.
“In what way?” Pedro reached across and tenderly stroked Andrew’s chest as they lay together, “Don’t tell me that you’re an android?”
Andrew smiled and tousled Pedro’s hair, “Of course not. You really have no idea, do you? Still, it’s impossible that you could know. After all, Clarkian law dictates that the future of your world is not only stranger than you imagine - but it’s also stranger than you possibly could imagine…”
Pedro looked quizzically into Andrew’s eyes.
“The android concept in ‘Space Journeys’ is one of the ways that your show generically predicts the future - perhaps even inspires it - without being specifically exact. You see, your android character is an IT character who acts as a host to a great many personalities - the minds and memories of many scientists, philosophers and action heroes, as the story requires.”
“He even hosted my own character’s personality in one episode…” agreed Pedro.
“And the android changes gender, sexuality and physical characteristics to conform to the personality it is hosting…” continued Andrew matter-of-factly, “You see, Pedro…The android character from your show is the prototype of the next phase of human evolution. He is - in concept - my own forebear.”
Pedro raised his head, resting it upon a bent arm, “What the hell are you talking about? Like I said before, you’re not an android…”
“No, but my body is a host device.”
“I don’t understand…are you telling me that your body, somehow, isn’t your body?”
Andrew smiled, “No, this is definitely my body…but my body in its current form.”
Pedro was silent, puzzled. Andrew persevered, “Imagine, if you can, a future where cloning is perfected, and where genetic manipulation is common. A world where people can clone and replace their own bodies to defeat age, disease and accident…
“…But where we can also change our physical characteristics to suit our desires and whims…the ultimate in what you might call plastic surgery…
“…And more than that. We can alter our chemical and hormonal characteristics, alter the very DNA structure of our cloned bodies…
“In the future, Pedro, people will change gender, physical appearance, racial characteristics, sex and sexuality as they so choose. We can experiment with the synapses and syntaxes within our own personalities, altering ourselves as we wish…
“And so you see, Pedro, that’s why I’m here. I was chosen to go back in time to meet you and to…get to know you…because I was willing to make the changes necessary to ensure that you would be attracted to me…
“In my most recent previous form, Pedro, I was female, and heterosexual. I found you attractive in the old vids, and I volunteered for this mission.”
Pedro’s eyes opened wide. He sat up in astonishment, “You mean you’re a woman? You’re a transsexual…?”
“Only in a technical sense. I’ve been male, female and intersex a dozen times over. Identity, gender and sexuality…they’re all fluid concepts where I come from…”
Andrew reached out a hand and tenderly held Pedro’s within his, “It’s all just a variation of the normal spectrum within each of us. In my time, it’s normal and natural to experiment, to experience a wide variety of possibilities from within your own self…to be free of the traditional boundaries imposed by being trapped within one body and one identity…”
“What are you saying?” Pedro gasped, reeling, “I don’t know what you’re telling me about…the future…about what it means to be human in the future…”
Andrew shrugged, “In the future, people are able to fly free…to enjoy the full poetry of life…to love themselves in all their variety…”
Pedro still sat looking stunned. Andrew sighed, trying to simplify his ideas so that a Neanderthal would understand, “Pedro, imagine the world before computers and internet…how was it different?”
“Different, yes…simpler, somehow…but still quite recognisable…”
“And before organ transplants? And telephone? And automobiles? And antibiotics? And the printing press..? And the alphabet..? At what point do people realise that their world…their concept of what it means to be human…has changed because of their technology? This is just another step. From your viewpoint, it might change the concept of humanity profoundly…but from where I stand, it’s just another natural and self-defining part of being human…”
He squeezed Pedro’s hands, “It’s this that makes it all worthwhile…down through the centuries, down through the changing generations, Pedro…the ability to share joy and happiness, to love and to be loved, by ourselves and by others…that’s what makes us all fully human…”
Pedro leaned back in bed, frowning. He had not been fully reassured, “I’m not sure I like what you’re telling me about the future…”
“Don’t be such a Luddite…didn’t your character, Merick, once say that, ‘Our greatest challenge in meeting the future is how we will respond within ourselves…’ or some such thing?”
“Yeah, sure, but that was fiction…”
“So was space flight when Jules Verne wrote about it. Or time travel when H G Wells predicted it. Or contact with alien life forms when…oops!” He winked mischievously, “I’m not meant to tell you about that, because it hasn’t happened yet for your people…”
Pedro sighed, and snuggled back into the bed, where he lay silently digesting this information before reluctantly falling into a somewhat troubled sleep.
Andrew studied his partner with an affectionate smile. "If you don’t like hearing about how we can clone our bodies to suit ourselves…” he whispered to the silent form, “Remind me to never tell you about how we can swap or rent out our bodies or DNA patterns to friends or to others…and what it’s like to make love to yourself…”
The Chorus played. The human contingent stared at the Galactic Choir.
“It’s beautiful!” gasped Jaa’net.
“What do they want with us?” muttered Merick.
“That much is obvious,” replied Nitko, “To teach us.”
Merick stepped forward.
“Citizens of the Outer Galactic reaches!” he called, “What do you wish to tell us?”
“WHAT DO YOU NEED TO KNOW?” came an ethereal reply.
Merick and the other exchanged glances.
“There are so many things!” replied Jaa’net.
“The answers to so many questions, so many mysteries!” called Merick.
The Choir became hushed.
“If you want those answers, listen…” replied the Ethereal Voice.
Silence reigned.
“I hear nothing…” Merick eventually called.
“YOU HEAR NOTHING BECAUSE YOU DO NOT LISTEN…” insisted The Voice, “TRY AGAIN. LISTEN…”
Again, there was total silence.
“What?” Merick finally demanded.
“YOU SEEK THE ANSWERS IN THE WRONG PLACE!” instructed The Voice, “LEARN TO LISTEN TO THE VOICE INSIDE. ONLY THEN CAN YOU HEAR ANY VOICES FROM ELSEWHERE…”
“I don’t understand…” Merick said.
“I do!” exclaimed Jaa’net, and moved forward to speak, “You’re telling us that we have the answers inside us…if we only stop to listen…”
“YOU HAVE WISDOM…” soothed The Voice, “NOW, GO AND FORGE YOUR DESTINY!”
“Thank you for last night…” Pedro said, as they drove towards work the following morning, “It was great…and somewhat unusual.”
Andrew nodded.
“I guess I could say that I don’t think I’ll have another night like it for a long time…perhaps ever again.” Pedro added.
“No…” Andrew grinned, “You never did…”
Pedro gave him a quick glance, “I would say that you used the wrong tense there - past tense instead of future tense - except I don’t know.”
Andrew reached up and stroked Pedro’s chin, “Relax, Pedro…don’t forget that I volunteered for this mission to meet you!”
“Oh yeah, why?”
“Because I always thought that you were so damned attractive…I especially liked you in the sequel series…I watched all the old interactive VR adventures.”
“Sequel series? I never made a sequel series.”
“No…” Andrew looked out of the window, at the passing city, “Not yet…”
Pedro shook his head, and reached down to turn on the car radio. “Might as well have some music,” he explained.
The car radio came alive with a new bulletin: “…Police say that three teenage suspects have been arrested over the latest series of gay bashings in the city area, the last attack having taken place two days ago and causing the death of a University student. Gay spokesmen say that forty-seven anti-gay attacks have taken place in the last five years, and they call for legislators to pass gay hate laws. In other news…”
Andrew was quietly hiding his head in his hand, “Barbarians…” he muttered.
Pedro switched off the radio. “Sorry…” he said.
Andrew looked up, “Pedro…promise me something…that you’ll always try to be a part of the solution, not a part of the problem…please promise me!”
Pedro shrugged.
“This above all: to thine own self be true…” added Andrew.
Pedro nodded, “The Bard!”
“'Romeo and Juliet'…” agreed Andrew, “Benvolio’s monologue.”
“Er…Polonius from 'Hamlet', actually,” corrected Pedro, waving a finger in a tut! tut! fashion.
Andrew frowned.“Dammit, he promised me he’d use it in the other…” he shrugged, then looked back at Pedro, “But the important point is the meaning of the words.”
Pedro reached across and grabbed Andrew’s hand, squeezing it warmly, “I understand what you’re trying to say. And I promise that I will follow that advice.”
“Good!” smirked Andrew.
They continued their drive to the Studios for another day’s work.
Bessie was already at her desk as Pedro passed his office on his way to the costuming department.
“Mr. Blanca!” she called, waving a piece of paper. Pedro stopped and smiled a greeting as he reached for the paper.
It was the Foreword for the gay and lesbian fanzine.
“I’ve got some bad news…” Bessie said softly, “I’ve had a reply from Illias Fogg, who was very apologetic. He says that advice from the Studio lawyer is a firm and definite, “No” to this Foreword…something about not offending our southern syndication audience…”
“I see…” said Pedro with a frown.
“I was about to put this back in the mail with an apology…” Bessie continued.
“No …” Pedro held up his hand to silence her, “Where’s a pen?”
“What? ” she began, but paused, uncertain.
“Someone just reminded me of some wisdom from the Bard himself: ‘This above all: to thine own self be true’. It’s about time I had the courage to live up to that ideal...”
He took the pen, and signed the Foreword with an elaborate flourish. Then, he proudly held it out for her to take. “Now post it back…” he instructed.
“Are…are you sure that you want to do that?” she asked hesitantly. He stopped.
“No…you’re quite right…” he said, and added a handwritten note to the bottom of the Foreword: As a gay man myself, I endorse the principles of equality and justice for all and I implore people to turn these ideals into reality.
“Now you can post it back!” he said. She took it, and her eyes bulged.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” she asked incredulously.
“Of course I do. I’m living up to my full potential!” he replied with a smirk, and resumed his walk towards the Costume Department.
“I’m so proud of you!” Andrew said admiringly, and his eyes shone.
They were in a side office during lunch hour.
“I take it…you mean the Foreword?” Pedro replied.
“Of course! Your secretary was talking in the canteen during morning coffee hour. She’s so proud of you…and so is the whole administrative staff. ‘Coming out’ is a big thing - especially when you can be such an influence for good!”
“And especially when you have so much to lose!” Pedro added.
Andrew shook his head, “They can’t fire you for that. They won’t - trust me!”
Pedro sighed deeply, "Well, any way, it’s done. What now?”
Andrew paused, “Well…I have some good news and some bad news…”
“Oh…”
“The good news…is that your signing the Foreword was the task I came here to encourage you to do…you’ve sealed the future…”
“Really..?” Pedro asked, impressed, “Are you telling me that my support for a gay fanzine somehow profoundly encourages human rights? Do I somehow inspire a whole generation of rampant gay activists to change the world?”
Andrew tried to hide a weak smile, “I’m sorry…nothing quite so dramatic.”
“Then what?”
Andrew shook his head.
“Come on!” Pedro insisted, “I think I have a right to know something!”
Andrew sighed. “All I can tell you is that one of the readers of the gay fanzine will become inspired, and in the future will invent…” he paused, “…well, why don’t you wait and see. You’ll live to find out. I promise!”
Pedro gave along and dramatic sigh, then Andrew tried a weak joke, “Of course this story had to have a happy ending - didn’t you tell me yesterday that your show was full of clichés?”
He paused awkwardly, and continued delicately, “Which brings me to the bad news…”
Pedro immediately guessed his meaning.
“You can’t mean…you’re not leaving me?”
Silently, Andrew nodded, and tried a weak joke, “Another cliché…the hero always gets the girl…and then loses her…”
“But why?”
Andrew stared into Pedro’s eyes, “Believe me, I’d like to stay…but the temptation to influence history is too great.”
Pedro sat quietly. He reached out a hand to clasp Andrew, not wanting to let him go.
“It’s best for both of us this way,” Andrew said weakly.
“Will I ever see you again?”
“Who knows?” Andrew grinned, “If your show really is full of clichés and stereotypes, this adventure in your life would have a gratuitous cliff hanger ending…or some hint of a possible sequel…”
Pedro refused to be comforted, “Commander Merick makes it look so easy…he just loves the ladies and leaves them…but somehow, it’s different in real life…”
“It’s real,” Andrew admitted, “The feelings are real…and so is the pain…”
There was a tender pause. Pedro groped for words, “Andrew…please don’t go! You can’t just go and leave me nothing!”
“You’re right…you deserve a keepsake...” Andrew said, and fiddled with his signet ring, detaching a minutely small object from its underside.
“A part of my time shuttle…the homing mechanism, actually. It’s nothing that could possibly interfere with your natural time line. But maybe, some day, I’ll be able to come back…in which case, I can find you again…”
They embraced and lingered, holding each other.
“I never thought I would have a love affair that spanned time and space…” Pedro said softly.
“All love spans time and space…” Andrew replied softly.
A few minutes later, a rainbow coloured flash emanated from the side office. Shortly afterwards, a silent and sombre Pedro Blanca exited alone, resuming his life and trying to look positively towards his next adventure - whatever that might be.
Jaa’net Europa stood her ground, even after the rest of the landing party had fled. The approaching aliens slurped and dribbled, their tentacles dripping green blood. But the human woman raised her space weapon.
“Die, bitch!” Jaa’net screamed, and fired her rifle-
***