Page 56 of Alien in Disguise

Although not every planet with intelligent life belonged to the LOP, most did, and I gaped at the diversity of life. Very few were humanoid. I glanced at the Copans and Arasetans we five women had chosen as partners. Horns and fur didn’t seem so different now. Humans and the people of Nomoru were more alike than not.

“There’s King Saar!” Kat pointed out the berobed Arasetan with jeweled horns, in the tiers on the stage.

That’s why he’s not here with the queen. Duh. He’s representing Araset.

The consul general climbed onto a dais facing the tiers and began to speak. “As you all are aware, this emergency meeting of the General Assembly has been called to discuss Resolution NT06, which would rescind Resolution NT01, prohibiting member planets from contacting or visiting New Terra or engaging in commerce or trade with the planet. If passed, the resolution would allow free and open communication and commerce.

“It is the contention of the anti-trafficking task force that the Resolution NT01 barring contact with New Terra unintentionally, but provably, contributed to the abduction of thousands of humans by providing cover to the Copan-Cerulean Cartel.”

A cacophony of voices broke out.

“Order! Order!” the consul general demanded.

As the commotion died down, someone shouted out, “Does this mean they will be admitted to the League of Planets?”

“In the short term, no. They aren’t ready yet. They have been living in isolation. The ways of the galactic community will be foreign to them. Their new leader, President Isaacson, only recently was informed of the existence of the LOP. However, membership is the long-term goal.”

More commotion broke out, and the consul general called for order again. “You will have time to comment and voice your concerns. Let’s get to the testimony and evidence.”

One by one, speakers stepped up onto the dais—Jovi was the only one I recognized—and presented data on numbers of the abductions, comparisons to other sectors, the cartel’s activities, and—what drew another universal outburst—the proof that humans hadn’t been responsible for the Great Nuclear War. Working through Maxx, New Terra’s new president had forwarded the vids and other evidence to the LOP.

Clutching Maxx’s hand, I perched on the edge of my seat. Not only could the resolution be the start of a whole new era for my planet, but it would be life-changing for us. It would enable Maxx and me to live openly as husband and wife and bond-mates, for him to come and go on New Terra, and for his mother to finally reunite with her mother. Maxx had broken the rules by marrying me, by just being with me. The king and queen of Araset had violated the embargo in sending a ship for us.

Whatever happened, Maxx and I had decided to stay on New Terra. We were needed there. I’d been promoted to the Secretary of Planetary Affairs, formerly the Department of State, after Garrison had been picked by Isaacson to be his vice president. If the embargo got lifted, Maxx hoped to become the LOP liaison-in-residence.

Rescinding the embargo would bring us freedom and security.

Just changing the law wouldn’t change sentiment overnight. There would still be people who would believe the worst of us. But attitudes would never change unless they got a chance to know us personally.

I eyed King Saar’s lifelike holographic image. Few were as xenophobic as he had been. He’d stripped Aeon of his royal title when he’d bond-mated with Holly. But then he’d reinstated it. And, since then, he’d warmed considerably to all of us. According to my friends, he positively doted on Kat. The fact he had a favorite human proved how far he’d come.

And Nadir. He, too, had been anti-human. He’d since become a dear friend and our greatest champion.

Others, like Joule and Maxx, had put their lives on the line for us.

We humans would win over the naysayers. We just needed the chance.

The arguments and presentations continued for two hours, and then the consul general called for the vote. A holographic scoreboard appeared on the stage.

“There are 200 members in the General Assembly,” Maxx whispered to me. “But the seats for Copa and Cerulea are vacant. Their membership has been suspended. That leaves 198 possible votes. We need 100 for it to pass.”

“What if it ties?”

“Then it doesn’t pass. Nay is on the left side of the scoreboard; yea is on right.”

The votes began to roll in—but I couldn’t read the unfamiliar symbols, although I could tell from the way he tensed and relaxed whether we were up or down. I snuck a glance at the other men. They looked similarly on edge.

The numbers stopped changing. Right differed from left, but what did it mean?

“Yes!” Maxx shouted and leaped to his feet. “Yes!”

“We won?”

“We won!” He grabbed me and kissed me.

My friends and their bond-mates cheered. Queen Citrine was smiling, and the king’s hologram nodded with satisfaction.

“What was the vote?”

He winced. “One hundred two to ninety-six. Slim margin, I know but—”

“Hell, no, that’s amazing.” I grinned. “It’s huge progress. We won over more than half the people in a couple of hours. Imagine what we can do with a little time. Today, the General Assembly, tomorrow, the galaxy!”

“First order of business, let’s reunite your family and plan our bond-mating ceremony. It will be a celebration!”

My friends cheered.

“The best kind of celebration,” Maxx said and kissed me.

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