“Yeah, well, I guess I kinda don’t have a choice right now.” Another thing occurred to me. “And if I get them, I’ll be able to know where you are, right? Like you and Aunt Ann and Timber can sense other Xalanites through the nanites?”
He nods. “Perhaps. If the ship has the right type of nanites, you would be able to access my location whenever you wish.”
“No matter where you are?”
“Of course. Some are even programmed to make it automatic. You would not even need to request this of the nanites.”
That clinched it. The few minutes I’d thought T’raat kidnapped had been the most agonizing of my life. If I could prevent that agony from happening again, it would go a long way towards making me feel comfortable being on an alien planet.
“Okay. When we get on the ship, the first thing I want is nanites.”
The grin he grinned made it all worth it. He tackled me in a bear hug, almost knocking me out of my chair. I giggled and hugged him back as he nuzzled my neck and whispered sweet nothings—I assumed, anyway—in Xalanite. Finally, just when Iwas about to pass out from lack of oxygen in his iron grip, he backed away enough to look me in the eye.
“Some day I will tell you what that means. In Xalanite, it is very … romantic, I believe is the word.”
I beamed up at him. “I can’t wait to hear it again and understand it.”
With that settled, T’raat took my hand and lead me to the living room, where Aunt Ann and Timber had their heads together on the couch. They were watching Fawkes News by the looks of it, and when I read the ticker at the bottom of the screen beneath an old picture of me and Aunt Ann, I saw a phrase that made my heart sink.
“Traitors to the human race.”
Fuck. That wasn’t good. Being spies or traitors to the AARO was one thing, but traitors to the whole human race? I couldn’t think of any possible way for my aunt to spin the situation to our advantage. I mean, the media had figured out that T’raat and I were a couple, and Timber’s romance with Xalanite Prince N’kal was widely known. I wasn’t quite sure why they’d lump Aunt Ann in with me and Timber, though. She didn’t have any partner, human or otherwise.
Then the image on screen changed, and I gasped as I saw Aunt Ann in full military dress, side-by-side at an altar with a handsome Xalanite man placing a ring on her finger, a ring that I hadn’t even noticed before. I whipped around to look at her hand, which she tried to hide, but I saw it.
“Aunt Ann! When were you gonna tell me and Dad?”
She sighed and rubbed her temple. “I hadn’t even told the US government. X’nit was a Xalanite physician who helped me during my recovery last summer. One thing led to another, and we fell in love.” She pointed at the screen, which Timber had paused. “There weren’t supposed to be any cameras on site.”
T’raat shrugged. “No cameras, perhaps, but there were Xalanites present, correct?”
“Yeah. What of it?”
He waved a dismissive hand at the screen. “Some Xalanites have recording devices implanted in their sensory organs. It is useful for intelligence gathering, though if the humans have a Xalanite image, it is quite disconcerting.”
I had a bad feeling, but I asked anyway. “Why is it disconcerting?”
“The only way to extract such an image is through death or consensual download.”
My aunt groaned. “So, either one of my wedding guests is dead, or they were a spy.”
“Likely, yes.” He squinted at the screen, then his eyes did this weird unfocusing thing for a few minutes. The rest of us waited, anxiety palpable in the room. Finally, my boyfriend stood back and let out a low whistle. “Well, he was not a spy.”
“Wait, how can you tell that from staring at the picture?”
Another shrug. “How do you humans call it? Yes! The image has a … a watermark of sorts. It is this specific Xalanite’s personal code. My nanites and I have searched all of Earth and Xalan and in between, and he no longer lives.”
Chapter 18
T’raat
I did not intend to cause distress, but clearly my words affected the humans, the women more than the men. Timber rubbed her abdomen, Director Ann twisted the metal ring on her finger, and Leigh trembled against me.
I rubbed Leigh’s shoulder and tried to reassure her that I was not the deceased Xalanite, that no harm had come to me, but she seemed inconsolable.
The two men handed out hot, steaming beverages that had a sharp floral scent.
“Tea,” John said as Leigh’s tremors subsided. “Chamomile. For relaxing them.”
