CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY-FIVE
May 16, 2000, 3:30 p.m.
Crashdown Cafe
The huge sign above the Crashdown flashed in the afternoon sunshine, gaudy even in daylight as Courtney stared at it in dismay. Dee had warned her that "Parker's" was no more, but this? This was downright tacky...and downright successful, judging by the stream of people going in and out. Pulling her eyes away from the glare, she gazed down the street, little changed since '59 if you ignored the modern cars, and for just a moment, she was back when she'd first arrived on this planet, young, brash, and bullying past Nicholas for a post in Roswell where she'd found completely unexpected friends in humans and, incredibly, a Covari. Terrible things had happened in 1959; she'd lost her father, the rebel faction had lost hybrids entrusted to their care, and they'd had to flee when Nicholas discovered he had traitors in his midst. So why did she remember that time so fondly? Why was she wistful for the summer when she'd lost almost everything?
A group of teenagers brushed past, boisterous and laughing as they made their way into the cafe. Courtney reached into her purse and pulled out a photograph she carried everywhere with her, dog-eared and faded with age. It was the one picture she had of Dee, Anthony, Philip, and Malik, that last giving the lie to the notion that Covari were mere automatons. She'd lost a lot that summer, but she'd also learned a lot; if humans, Argilians, and Covari could band together and form an alliance, truly anything was possible. If you could tangle with Royal Warders and emerge with not only your life, but their respect, the sky was the limit. If you could maneuver Nicholas into a position which deprived him of what he wanted and left him on the outs with Khivar, then there was hope that the mess back home could be fixed, that their war-torn planet could be healed with a wiser king and more just rule. All that had become clear in '59, amid the chaos and loss. It had sustained her through the long years in hiding, their futile attempts to create new husks, and the realization that their end was coming. The main thing now was to make certain their presence hadn't been in vain.
Slipping the photo back into her purse, Courtney was just about to go into the cafe when she saw the sheaf of skin hanging from her thumb. Damn it. She glanced around, found no one close, peeled it off, and dropped it into her purse. It wouldn't be wise to simply drop it in the street or even a trash can; Nicholas or his soldiers could show up at any moment, and even though no human would know what that piece of skin was, another Argilian would. It was ironic, really, that she'd fallen apart at the sight of Dee and Anthony when she was the one falling apart. She looked every bit as young as she had 40 years ago, but only because husks didn't age the same way as human bodies—they didn't look older, they simply fell apart. She would likely be dead before the year was out, but Dee and Anthony, both heavier, wrinklier, and spottier, with much less hair and yellower teeth, would live on. There was an irony there, but also a lesson, should she choose to look for it...
Later. Courtney grasped the Crashdown's door handle and pulled it open before she lost her nerve. She and Dee had agreed that getting a job here would be the best course of action, enabling her to keep an eye on the hybrids and an ear to the ground for any newcomers to town. That meant returning to waiting tables, a job she hadn't held in decades, and it also meant convincing the Crashdown's owner to hire her. Dee, as usual, had a plan for that, and Courtney was mentally going over the backstory as she crossed the threshold. Oh, God, she groaned, looking around. If alien kitsch reigned outside, it did so even more inside. The murals alone were a hoot, but the deely boppers and alien head aprons sent it over the top. Way over the top.
"One?" chirped a blonde wearing said apron, briskly grabbing a menu.
"Thanks, but I'm not here to eat," Courtney answered. "I'm here to apply for a job."
"Seriously?" the blonde chuckled. "Sure you have the right place? Don't mind me," she sighed when Courtney raised an eyebrow. "I'm just a little jaded of late, plus I've had way too many people today ask me if aliens are real."
"What do you say?" Courtney asked.
The waitress smiled sweetly. "That if I tell them, I'd have to kill them. Follow me. I'll take you to the owner."
Maria, Courtney thought, reading the waitress's name tag. Maria was one of the ones "in the know", according to Dee. No wonder she got tired of people asking her if aliens were real. Same here.
"Mr. Parker?" Maria said, addressing a thin, middle-aged man with a pencil in his teeth and his eyes on a spreadsheet. "Got another potential victim for you."
"So geth her wath see wans to eeth," Mr. Parker said without looking up.
"No, no, she wants to work here," Maria clarified.
"Oh!" Mr. Parker said, plucking the pencil from his teeth. "That kind of victim. You didn't specify."
"I'm not hungry, thanks," Courtney said. "I speak 'pencil'," she added when they both blinked at her.
"She speaks 'pencil!" Mr. Parker said approvingly. "Great! Any experience?"
"Waiting tables in a place about this size in Seattle," Courtney nodded.
"Cool," Mr. Parker declared. "Let me get you an application. Maria? Someone's calling you."
"I've always wanted to see this place," Courtney said wistfully as Maria returned to the floor. "My grandmother used to work here."
Bingo, Courtney thought as Mr. Parker stopped fishing for the application, problematic because it required references she didn't have. "Really?"
"Yep. Her name was Courtney too, Courtney Harris. I'm Courtney Banks, by the way," she added, extending her hand.
"Jeff Parker," Jeff said, pumping her hand enthusiastically. "Do you know when your grandmother worked here, exactly?"
"The summer of l959," Courtney answered. "It was 'Parker's' back then. She said it had just expanded to a diner from a bar. She had this pin that she said she wore, a round one..."
"The buttons!" Jeff exclaimed. "That was the only 'alien stuff' my grandfather used, and believe me, I heard about it when I remodeled. I know it's tacky..." He leaned in closer..."but trust me, it works. People eat this stuff up."
"Literally," Courtney agreed.
"Funny," Jeff chuckled. "Say, I have some old photos back here. What say we try to find a picture of your grandmother?"
She followed him to a makeshift and messy office where a row of photo albums filled a shelf. "1950's, late '50's," he murmured, plucking an album from the line. "You said summer, right? So I'd be looking for people in shorts..." He paused, flipping through the seasons. "Okay, so here's summer...there are lots of pictures because of the expansion and some movie they were shooting, so I'll bet she's in here somewhere..." He stopped, his eyes widening. "Oh, my. You're a dead ringer for her!"
"Really?" Courtney said with mock surprise. "Let me see!"
Jeff swung the album around. There she was, different hairstyle, old-fashioned uniform, the famous button, but pretty much the same...and there was Dee at twenty-something, looking just like she remembered her, like she didn't look now. "Wow," Courtney whispered, a lump in her throat. "I...I never saw any pictures of her that young. Everyone told me I looked like her, but..."
"I'd say they were right," Jeff agreed. "Oh, there she is again. And again. And again!" he said happily, flipping the pages. "Wow! This is so cool to meet a relative of someone who worked here way back when."
"Yeah," Courtney agreed. "Can I...do you mind if I look through this? She died less than a year ago, so I'm still a little..." She stopped, one hand to her mouth in a not completely invented display of emotion.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," Jeff said quickly. "I know exactly how you feel; my mother died last year, and sometimes I'm okay with it, and other times...well...you know. Here, you have a seat and look to your heart's content. Would you like something to drink? Maybe some coffee, or a soda?"
"Just a glass of water," Courtney said weakly. "Thank you."
He left. Courtney's hands shook as she turned page after page, the summer of '59 rushing back at her with every flip. There was Brivari in the guise of a movie clapper loader, a surefire entry in the contest for oddest calling for a Royal Warder. There was that actress he'd supposedly fallen for, the one with helmet hair and way too much make-up, and her stuck-up male co-star. There was that friend of Brivari's, that weird guy with the disguise...what was his name? Anderton? Atherton? Something like that. And there was Malik, at the counter and in that back booth he preferred, always representative of everything Covari supposedly weren't and could never be. There was Anthony, so young and with so much hair. There was Philip, barely 2, barely walking and talking. He'd be middle-aged now, but somehow she didn't think seeing him would be as much of a shock as seeing his parents; children were supposed to grow up, after all, and she'd never known him as a young adult.
"Knock-knock."
"Oh...thanks," Courtney said when she spied Maria in the doorway with a glass of water and a skeptical expression. "I didn't think he was going to bother you with that."
"Well, he did," Maria sighed, sinking into a nearby chair. "But, hey, it's an excuse to rest the tootsies. So...I thought you were applying for a job?"
"I am."
"Mmmhmm," Maria murmured. "Just FYI, job applicants usually don't rate a beverage, a toy, and a cushy seat in the office."
"You think photo albums are toys?" Courtney said.
Maria's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "I'm thinking I'm curious as to why all the star treatment."
"My grandmother used to work here," Courtney explained. "Mr. Parker found some pictures of her."
"Ah!" Maria said knowingly. "That explains it. He does tend to go all misty-eyed about Crashdown history."
"Oh?" Courtney said, having heard the same thing from Dee, who'd suggested that plus the fact that he recently lost his mother might be a good way to distract him from the problematic application process.
"Yup. Gets positively sentimental—"
Maria stopped as Mr. Parker appeared in the doorway with a Crashdown uniform draped over his arm. "You know, I was thinking," he said a little sheepishly, "that it would be great to have a descendent of a former employee work here. So...how's about we speed things along a little? You said you worked tables before in..."
"Seattle," Courtney finished.
"Right. So I'm thinking you put this on and go on out there, and we'll see how you do. And how you like it."
"Great!" Courtney said.
"Wait," Maria commanded. "You're just going to throw her out there with no training?"
"She's got experience," Mr. Parker said, handing over the uniform. "And she speaks pencil."
"But she doesn't know the drill," Maria argued. "She doesn't know the menu. She wouldn't know an Alien Invasion from a Moons of Jupiter."
"Pancakes," Courtney said. "Tall stack, short stack, respectively. I did my homework," she added when they both stared at her. "I looked at a menu."
"She did her homework," Mr. Parker said proudly, crooking a thumb Courtney's way. "She looked at a menu. Initiative! I love it!"
"So she knows a couple of things," Maria said. "Big deal. Let's see just how far that goes. Alien Encounter?"
"A shake," Courtney said.
"Rings of Saturn?"
"Onion rings."
"Green Martian?"
"Mint shake."
"What, did you memorize the menu?" Maria demanded.
"Well...yeah," Courtney admitted. "You kind of have to. No time to read it. At least not where I worked last."
"Not here either," Jeff agreed as Maria scowled. "So when would you like to do your test run?"
"Now's good," Courtney said.
"The dinner rush'll be starting soon," Maria protested.
"So I can help," Courtney said. "Unless you'd like to take a break. Would you like my water? I can handle your tables for you."
The smoldering glare she received as answer spoke volumes. "Guess not," Courtney shrugged. "Shall we?"
"Excellent," Mr. Parker beamed. "You're going to fit in here just fine."
*****************************************************
Washington, D.C.
"Out of my way," Vanessa Whitaker commanded, thundering past the doorman in Pierce's building. She spent an interminable five minutes pacing in front of the elevator, stabbing at the button as though she were trying to kill it and looking longingly at the door to the stairwell. If he weren't 12 floors up, she wouldn't be standing here waiting for a car on a rope, and she'd get to kill him that much faster...
Finally it came. The ride seemed a lot longer than usual, but murderous rages did tend to make time go in slow motion. Her fellow riders watched her nervously as she tapped her foot impatiently, shrinking past as she blew past when they reached the 12th floor, banging on Daniel's door so loudly they could probably hear her in the elevator as it continued its upward journey.
"Daniel? Vanessa. Open up!"
No answer. "Daniel, I know you're in there," Vanessa fumed. "Open this door, or I swear to God, I'll break it down!"
What followed was a very long wait, long enough that it looked like she'd have to make good on her promise, followed by a welcome click. "What took you so long?" she demanded of the raised eyebrow which appeared as the door cracked open.
Daniel shrugged, still wearing his favorite robe and slippers, not to mention a sardonic smile. "Maybe I wanted to watch you break it down," he suggested. "Or just see if you mean what you say. What's got your knickers in a knot?"
"Why didn't you tell me you'd been suspended?" Vanessa demanded.
"My, but news travels fast," Daniel remarked. "I didn't tell you because it's none of your business. And because I didn't know until Freeh's goons showed up to collect my badge and gun."
"Bullshit," Vanessa declared. "He suspended you last night via Ma Bell, and you never said a word."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but not a single cellphone carrier operates via 'Ma Bell'. Not sure any landlines do either...weren't they bought out by AT&T?"
"Stop dodging," Vanessa ordered. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Didn't I already answer that?" Daniel said with maddening calm. "And no, the phone call was not decisive. Freeh's threatened to suspend me a million times without actually doing it, so I certainly wasn't going to believe him until it actually happened."
"Oh, for God's sake, Daniel, I'm a congresswoman!" Vanessa exclaimed.
"Really?" he deadpanned. "Didn't know that. Just like I didn't know you were religious. When did that happen? And to which god are you referring?"
"Don't play games with me," Vanessa warned. "Whatever you did, whatever you screwed up, they're talking about congressional hearings. Which means I'm going to be sitting in judgment over you."
"Right where you usually are," Daniel chuckled. "And where you spent most of last night. At least the 'over' part." He ran a hand down her arm, leaned in close to her ear. "What say we resume our...earlier activities? I preferred those to arguing.
"Don't you dare come on to me!" Vanessa exclaimed, slapping his hand away. "I keep telling you I can help you, and you keep pushing me away! Now that you're in real trouble, do you really think you can afford to keep doing that? And don't bother with the 'classified' trope. Every single thing you think is 'classified' will be unclassified if this hits the Hill."
"Well...not everything," Daniel allowed. "Freeh will only let loose as much as he needs to bury me. Trust me, he'll keep most of the details to himself; Freeh doesn't want his beloved Bureau dragged through the mud. What makes you think the Hill has any interest in this?"
"Because word is you barged into a military base," Vanessa said, "an abandoned base in Roswell—"
"Bequeathed to the Bureau long, long ago. Which means it's no longer a military base, it's a Bureau base. Next?"
"Semantics," Vanessa insisted. "You were chasing somebody. Did you find them?"
"Where did you hear that?" Daniel asked sharply.
"Doesn't matter. Tell me, was this worth it? Did you..." She leaned in closer, fixed him with a hard stare. "Did you find them?"
Daniel eyed her for a moment as though sizing her up, or sizing up what to tell her. "Yes," he said finally. "And then we lost them."
Shit, Vanessa though, deflating. "As to whether it was 'worth it', I'd say it was," he went on. "We learned a lot. And risks have to be taken. No pain, no gain."
"Jesus Christ Almighty," Vanessa groaned. "You don't need platitudes now, you need friends in high places!"
"Like who?"
"Like me!" Vanessa exclaimed in exasperation. "Who did you think? Do you not have any idea how much trouble you're in? Do you not—"
She stopped as his eyes hardened in a way she hadn't seen before. "Trust me, my dear," he said in a voice she'd never heard. "I know exactly how much trouble I'm in, and despite your fears to the contrary, exactly what I'm doing. And not doing, as in not spilling classified information to just any pretty face who barges into my home and throws a tantrum. We're done here."
"Daniel—"
"I said, we're done."
"What...you mean...us?" Vanessa sputtered. "As in us, us?"
His expression softened, and he grasped her chin in his hand. "Heavens, no. Why would I give up that? Especially as it now appears I have more time on my hands. You just need to have a little faith, sweetheart."
"Since when do you call me 'sweetheart'?" Vanessa demanded.
"Since you started carrying on like a harridan," Daniel chuckled, holding out a hand toward the bedroom. "Care to join me?"
Closing her eyes briefly, Vanessa summoned the shreds of her patience. "In a minute. I need to make a phone call."
"Call away," he smiled. "I'll be waiting."
Vanessa resisted the urge to roll her eyes when Daniel's robe slipped open as he backed toward the bedroom, waiting until he'd disappeared inside wearing little more than a smirk before pulling out her phone. Sex was the last thing on her mind at the moment, but human males never seemed to tire of it, and there was always the possibility that she might be able to beat some sense into him. Literally.
"It's me," she said when her ring was answered. "It's official; Freeh's suspending him over something at the old base outside Roswell. And he admitted chasing someone, someone he says they found, but lost. Sounds like they scared them away."
"Of course they did," Nicholas's deeply disgusted voice drawled. "Amateurs. They should all be shot. Now what?"
"Now? Now he wants to screw me. Again."
"So go fuck him, sweetheart," Nicholas said cheerfully. "Poor guy's had a rough day. Just don't enjoy it. I'll never forgive you if you enjoy it."
"Thanks a heap," Vanessa muttered. "His tastes have changed. He was downright aggressive last night."
"So get aggressive back," Nicholas said. "God knows I've given you enough practice. And when I said 'now what', I wasn't referring to whether your lover likes his sex rough. Once again: Now what?"
"There's a call out for congressional hearings," Vanessa sighed. "Daniel thinks that won't happen because Freeh won't let it."
"Because he doesn't want his Bureau's dirty laundry aired in public," Nicholas said. "Perfectly understandable, and tough shit. Push for those hearings. We want that laundry swinging in the breeze."
"So you want me to publicly go on the offensive against the man you just told me to fuck for information?"
"You bet!" Nicholas said. "They learned some things on their little outing, and without those hearings, whatever they learned will be locked up tight within the Bureau. Hearings leak like a sieve. That's the best way to find out what Danny boy knows."
"You know, you could always drag yourself up here and pull it out of his head," Vanessa suggested.
"I could," Nicholas agreed. "And then what? I'd have to kill him, and he's too valuable right now, not to mention his death would start them all wondering if he wasn't onto something. Which he was, of course, but we don't want the apes knowing that."
"You're that certain this is all about the hybrids?" Vanessa said skeptically.
"Sure I am," Nicholas answered. "That signal was no coincidence, and it came right from where Danny boy was squatting. They're out there. And they can't hide from us forever."
*****************************************************
Crashdown Cafe
"The Men in Black burger comes with Saturn Rings, not fries," Maria said.
"It also comes with Thousand Island Dressing," Courtney remarked, lifting the bun. "This has mayo." She shoved the plate back through the pass-through. "I think you've got a Ghostbusters burger here, not a Men in Black."
A hand reached out of nowhere. " 'Ghostbusters'?" the cook's disembodied voice said as the plate disappeared.
"Yeah, you know, the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man? Which is white, like the mayo? No? Forget it," Courtney said, as the hand returned with the de-mayoed burger. "Not exactly aliens anyway because those were beings from hell, or another dimension, or something like that."
"There's a difference?" Maria muttered. "Remember, Saturn Rings, not—"
"Fries. Got it," Courtney said.
"And ketchup. You got any—"
"Two bottles in my pocket. Chill," Courtney advised. "It's been a couple of hours, and I haven't brought the roof down."
"Yet," Maria warned. "Don't get cocky. You're still new here."
Actually, I'm not, Courtney thought, delivering yet another armload of food to yet another table. Funny how it all came back; forty years may have passed, but the essentials were still the same. Granted, the decor was radically different, the uniforms hilarious, the people fatter, the kids less well behaved, and the prices higher, but none of that changed the standard variables in the diner equation: Hungry people, greasy food, and sore feet. The ease with which she'd slid back into the role of a Parker's—sorry, Crashdown—waitress had surprised even her and definitely surprised Maria, who was taking something of a burn to the fact that she was doing so well. Apparently waiting tables was a secret art open only to the initiated. Too bad she couldn't tell Maria she'd already been initiated, and then some.
"How's it going?" Mr. Parker asked, appearing from the back as Courtney loaded up more plates.
"Great!" Courtney answered.
"Okay, I guess," Maria said skeptically.
Mr. Parker raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"
"Nothing I know of," Courtney shrugged as Maria scowled. "S'cuse me; I don't want these to get cold."
Mr. Parker stepped back to let her through and so did Maria, though with considerably less enthusiasm. She left them engaged in a vigorous conversation that she'd love to overhear, one joined by a young, dark-haired girl who appeared from the back. She'd served two more tables before Mr. Parker left, Maria stalked off in a huff, and the dark-haired girl intercepted Courtney on her way back behind the counter.
"Hi," the girl said, extending a hand. "I'm Liz Parker. My dad owns the Crashdown."
"Courtney," Courtney said, taking the hand of the domino which had sent all the others tumbling.
"Look, um...I know Maria's in a bit of a mood," Liz said. "But Dad says you're doing great, and...well, Maria's had a rough time of it lately, and...well...just try not to take anything she says personally. She's just tweaked because my dad didn't do the usual things like check your references, and stuff like that. Guess she's a little on the suspicious side."
"Suspicious of what?" Courtney said. "Do you get a lot of ax murderers working here?"
"No," Liz smiled. "It's just...stuff. Nothing personal. She's..." She stopped, gazing past Courtney. "Sorry, I've...I've gotta go. Welcome to the Crashdown. I'm sure we'll see each other again some time."
Courtney, who'd been privately noting that the term "stuff" was something of an understatement for the near assassination of Antar's king, watched curiously as Liz quite literally fled, the door to the back swinging wildly in her wake. Turning around, she found out why.
"Hey," a newly arrived dark-haired teenager said to Maria. "Have you seen Liz?"
"Nope," Maria lied.
"You sure? She came home after school."
"Yes, Max, I'm sure," Maria said blandly. "Believe it or not, I'd know Liz if I saw her. And what do you mean, 'she came home after school'? Stalking, much?"
Courtney busied herself behind the counter just within earshot as the confrontation continued. "I'm not 'stalking'," Max protested, "I'm just..."
"Stalking," Maria finished.
"Looking to talk to her," Max corrected. "Big difference."
"She already talked to you. There's nothing more to say."
"Says who? What, are you her personal secretary now?"
"Says Liz," Maria declared. "And now that you mention it, yeah—I sorta am."
"So you won't tell me the truth no matter what," Max said in disgust. "Hey," he called to Courtney. "Have you seen Liz Parker, the owner's daughter?"
"She just went in the back," Courtney answered, ignoring Maria, who was making frantic shushing motions.
"Can't you keep your big mouth shut?" Maria hissed as Antar's king disappeared into the back.
"Why?" Courtney said. "Is it a great big secret?"
"She doesn't want to see him!" Maria exclaimed.
"Then she can tell him that herself," another voice said.
Maria whirled around. Two blondes had just taken up residence on stools nearby, and there was no mistaking who they were. "Please tell me," Maria said in a dangerous voice, "that you aren't planning on calling her 'selfish' again. And what is she doing here?"
"What I'm planning is my business, and all I said was she could tell him herself," Vilandra retorted. "Last I checked, Liz is a big girl who's perfectly capable of taking care of herself. And Tess is not only my friend, she's one of us. You're being rude and obnoxious, but what else is new?"
Courtney watched with interest as Maria smoldered, Vilandra stared her down, and Ava's eyes dropped. "Whatever," Maria snapped, glaring at all of them before blasting into the back like one of the Furies.
"You're new here, aren't you? Don't mind her," Vilandra advised when Courtney nodded. "She's—"
" 'In a mood'," Courtney finished. "So I heard. I've been 'not minding her' for the past couple of hours. Can I get you guys anything?"
"Coke," Vilandra said.
"Cherry Coke," Ava said. "Please."
"I'll have some more coffee," a man further down the counter called.
Two Cokes later, Courtney grabbed the coffee pot, refilled the man's cup...and almost dropped the pot. "Can't you find some other way of announcing yourself?" she said peevishly as his eyes faded from pure black to human.
"Perhaps a name tag?" Brivari suggested. "I'm sure Nicholas would appreciate that when he gets here. Although it kind of negates the point of being a shapeshifter."
"No, just...pick another color," Courtney said, ignoring his sarcasm. "Both of you always do the black eyes bit. It's freaky."
"I see. So if my eyes were to go, say, brilliant purple, that wouldn't be 'freaky'?"
"I don't believe this," Courtney groaned. "I'm back behind the counter at Parker's with you appearing out of nowhere."
"Because that's what Royal Warders do," Brivari said mildly. "A brief change of eye color has always sufficed to identify myself, and black is the color least likely to draw attention or be taken seriously if a human were to notice."
"Fine," Courtney sighed. "Black it is, but don't complain to me if you wind up wearing hot coffee."
"I don't burn easily," Brivari noted.
"Ain't that helpful," Courtney muttered. "So...did Jaddo make it to Washington?"
"He did. Pierce has been suspended, his badge and gun confiscated."
"That was fast," Courtney remarked.
"No one stirs up trouble faster than Jaddo," Brivari agreed dryly. "What have I missed here?"
"Well let's see," Courtney said, eyeing the girls at the other end of the counter. "Zan is mooning over his girlfriend, Vilandra's using big words, and the queen is in the doghouse. What's up with that?"
"Long story," Brivari said. "Did I detect some tension between you and 'Maria'?"
"Yeah, she makes up her mind pretty fast," Courtney said. "And she's made up hers that she doesn't like me."
"You could try being less efficient," Brivari suggested.
"Less efficient? What, you think she'd hate me less if I missed orders and dropped plates?"
"No, I think she's going to 'hate you' either way," Brivari answered. "Fulfilling her low expectations would justify that dislike and make her feel comfortably superior to you. Those who are secure in their superiority do not feel threatened, and are thus less likely to cause problems."
Courtney blinked. "Wow. You really are a conniving bastard."
"All part of the job," Brivari shrugged. "Now...how much has Dee told you?"
"I got the Cliff's Notes version," Courtney answered. "Photos, basic relationships, basic timeline of events. There wasn't time for more last night. But she does know how to work Jeff Parker; he pretty much hired me on the spot. And what a spot—this is hybrid central. I've seen all of them but Rath."
"I think Dee knows how to work everyone," Brivari said. "There are times I dearly wish I could take her back home with me; I have a feeling she'd clean up the planet in a hurry. You can't stay there, you know. Two of the hybrids are her grandchildren, and they frequent her house. They can't find you there."
Courtney, who was chuckling inwardly at the thought of Dee locking horns with anyone and everyone on Antar, stopped short. "Can't stay there? I just got into town last night! Give me a minute."
"No need." Brivari pushed a key and a slip of paper across the counter. "I took the liberty of acquiring you a house."
"A house? I can't pay for a house on a waitress's salary."
"Of course not," Brivari said. "But I can. Garbage collection is on Thursday, and I've arranged for the lawn to be mowed. Bills for electricity and water will be sent to me. Consider it a gift from the crown." He finished his coffee. "Oh, and you already have. Met Rath, that is. He works here."
Brivari tucked a few bills beneath his coffee cup and left as Courtney stared at him. Rath worked here? Doing what? What possible occupation could Antar's version of General MacArthur have in a place like this?
"Order up!" a voice called from the kitchen. "Get a move on, people! I didn't cook it just to see it get cold!"
Snapping back to the present, Courtney found several orders on the pass-through; Maria was apparently still sulking. She'd loaded up with several plates when she saw something white peaking out of a Men in Black burger. "Shit!" she exclaimed under her breath, setting the plates down and stalking into the kitchen with the offending burger.
"Men in Black comes with Thousand Island dressing, not mayo," she snapped to the cook, whose back was to her. "Didn't we already have this conversation?"
He turned. "We did. Sorry. Give it here."
Frozen to the spot, it took Courtney a moment to hand the plate to Zan's second. "Uh...sorry about that," she said awkwardly. "I didn't mean to sound so bitchy."
"You weren't," Rath said. "Just factual. Men in Black does come with Thousand Island, and we did have this conversation. Something about Ghostbusters? Although I hated that Stay Puft dude. My favorite was Slimer." He scraped the mayo off as she stood there, tongue-tied. "So...you're the new girl who managed to piss off Maria."
"It wasn't hard," Courtney remarked, kicking herself when his eyebrows rose. Maria was apparently Rath's human girlfriend, so dissing her probably wasn't the best strategy. She was still reeling from the notion that Antar's best hope was flipping burgers in a greasy spoon, and she wasn't thinking straight.
But Rath was smiling faintly despite the raised eyebrows. "It isn't, he agreed, "but that's gotta be a record, for everyone but me, that is. What'd you do?"
"Well, let's see," Courtney said, counting on her fingers. "I was hired the same day I applied, memorized the menu, and haven't dropped anything. And I told someone named Max that I'd seen someone named Liz. And it looks like she's still pissed, so I'd better take her orders out before customers get mad."
"Why? Her orders are her problem."
"If people don't get their food and complain, she'll make it my...problem," Courtney finished heavily, realizing she'd just done it again. Jesus, how many times could she stick her foot in her mouth in one conversation?
But Rath was still smiling, openly this time. "You're a quick study. Let me throw'em under the lamps for a sec."
A slow smile spread across Courtney's face. This was not the desperate, doe-eyed Zan talking, and whatever relationship Rath had with Maria was clearly very different from the one Max had with Liz. "Done," Rath declared moments later, "plus one de-mayoed Men in Black. I'll be sure and tell Maria you bailed her out."
"Don't bother," Courtney said. "I've got more important things to do then fret over some girl's tantrum."
"Yeah? Me too." Rath handed her the last plate. "Happy fighting, Stay Puft."
"Same to you...Slimer."
They exchanged smiles as she left the kitchen, and she was still smiling after delivering the plates with sides of apologies. Zan's second was smart, witty, plain spoken, and had his priorities straight.
Maybe Antar actually had a chance after all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I'll post the Epilogue to Season 1 next Sunday.
I deeply appreciate any and all who took the time to read and comment, and hope to see you back for Season 2!