Extraterrestrial Refugees

Droplets of sweat gathered on Barkley’s red forehead. They rolled down the bridge of his nose and along his jawbone. It wasn’t nervous sweat; the courtroom was uncomfortably hot. Cuffed and wearing an orange jumpsuit, he stood before a judge. Despite his anger, he took a moment to check out the bailiff. She was a burly, muscular woman with a daunting face. Her golden hair was gathered in a neat bun on the back of her head. Maybe he had been too quick to judge the Earthlings—maybe some of them were beautiful, the bailiff being one such one.

He forced himself to focus again. For the first time ever, he had taken Gemma’s advice and been on his very best behavior. He had been apologetic and sincere. And now, it seemed, it was paying off. He was on the brink of freedom after five horrid days of being held captive in a terrible Earth prison. He had let the other prisoners say things to him he normally never would’ve permitted to be said to him. They pestered him with ridiculous questions and teased him about being from outer space. He did, however, make a handful of acquaintances he considered worth remembering.

Court seemed to be slugging on. He had already listened to his prosecutors accuse him of unfairly and brutally attacking them. They were stumped when the judge asked them if they had been invited into the ship. “Seems to me,” the old man said, “there are no problems whatsoever when people are invited. Hundreds of people are getting tours of the ship every day without incident. Theoretically, your men were trespassing.”

“We were trying to uphold the law and defend the country,” the prosecutor argued.

At the end of court, Barkley was expected to pay a court fee and some medical bills—one of the soldiers had sprained his ankle as he was scurrying out of the ship. “I’m assuming you are not employed?” the judge said.

“Yes, I have a job,” Barkley said defensively.

“I mean one for which you are paid in US dollars.”

“Oh. Then no, sir, I do not.”

“I am therefore giving you ninety days to make your first payment on these fines,” the judge said. With that, court was adjourned and he was free to go. He was scowled at and told he was lucky the judge was so sympathetic.

“Should anything like this ever happen again,” his prosecutor growled in a hushed voice, “I will hit you and your people where it hurts.”

“That’s enough, sergeant,” the bailiff huffed. Barkley grinned as she grabbed his wrists and unlocked his handcuffs. “Come on, Mr. Barkley. Let’s get you out of here.” She escorted him out of the courtroom and to an office where he was able to collect his personal items. The bailiff allowed him to get changed in the restroom. He emerged a short time later wearing the clothes he had been arrested in—his sleeping clothes.

“No, I’m not some loser who sits around in his pajamas every day, okay?” Barkley said as the bailiff gave him a scrutinizing look.

“For all I know, those could just be the kind of clothes your people wear. You didn’t have to tell me they were your pajamas,” the bailiff said in her cool, low voice.

“You should see my uniform. I was a war hero back at home. And my position as Defense Specialist back on the ship is very important. I don’t know how they’re getting by without me.” He looked up into the bailiff’s stern face again.

“Huh,” she mumbled. Their footsteps echoed in the long hall.

“You know, I’m very hungry and don’t have any US dollars. Care to buy me lunch?” Barkley stared at her. She gave him a brief sideways glance, but said nothing. “I’ll pay you back.” Still, she made no response. “Look, you’re an incredibly attractive woman and I just wanted to get to know you better. You don’t have to be a snob about it.”

They had reached the door. The bailiff pointed at it. “Good bye, Mr. Barkley.”

He scoffed at her as he approached the door. “Your loss.” He looked through the glass. “In all seriousness though, how am I supposed to get back to the ship?”

The bailiff shrugged. “That’s not really my problem. I have to get back to work.” She turned and walked away. Barkley watched her for a moment. He was not accustomed to rejection. It irritated him, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He walked out of the door and into the sun. He looked around at the cars rolling up and down the busy streets that surrounded the courthouse. He pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. There was a phone number on it. He had almost forgotten it was in there. He carefully folded it up and placed it back into his pocket. He was saving it for a special occasion—an occasion that was getting closer with every beat of his enraged heart.

For now, he needed to find a way to get back to the Fortuna.

* * *

Oscar was hoping to get some shut-eye. He and Gemma had returned from Germany only hours before. His eyelids felt heavier with every step he took toward the Fortuna. Its small windows glowed like stars in the darkness. Gemma had already offered to let him stay the night on the ship again. It was almost starting to feel like a second home. Unfortunately, he heard his name hollered just as he was starting to step up the ramp. He turned around, surprised to see Charles was there.

“I’m assuming you’ve heard the president, among others, is coming to visit tomorrow,” Charles huffed.

“Yes, sir, I have,” Oscar said.

“Well, there’s a lot of work to be done to make sure this place is secure.”

“I just got back from Germany.”

“I’m aware.”

Oscar nodded. “Okay.” He glanced over at Gemma, who had been listening in on the conversation the whole time. “Well, hope you can get some sleep.”

“But you’re exhausted, too. Is there something I can do to help?”

Oscar leaned in closer. “I wouldn’t get involved,” he whispered.

“I’m sorry. Goodnight.” She started to ascend the ramp. Oscar started after her.

“Here, I got something for you when I was at the store earlier,” he dug into his suit coat pocket and pulled out a rectangular box. He had run into the store for some snacks after they hand landed; he would’ve brought Gemma in with him, but she had become too recognizable and was mobbed anytime she was in public. Oscar had done his best to choose some vegan snacks—baby carrots, a few apples and bananas, hummus. Gemma had no complaints as she ate them.

Oscar handed Gemma the box. “What’s this?” she asked, looking down at the image on the front of the box. “A cellphone?”

“Yes. I have a feeling my boss is going to be summoning me back to Washington soon, and I wanted to have an easier way to stay in contact with you,” Oscar explained.

“That was nice of you, but I can’t pay for this.”

“Not a problem. Don’t worry about that.” Oscar smiled. “You can always pay me back when you get a job here. Or rather, you can pay my mom back—I’m on her phone plan. To save money.”

Gemma opened the box and looked at her reflection in the black screen. “Well, thank you. I’m sure this will be useful.” She closed the lid again. “Oscar, I will never be able to thank you enough for being there for me. It really does mean more than I can say.”

“Hey, this feels like you’re trying to tell me goodbye.”

“The next few days are going to be crazy. I’m going to be giving tours and answering the same questions over and over again all day.” Gemma had hoped all the important leaders would come at once to avoid having to repeat herself, but it was decided that was too risky; there was still some suspicion that the Tetranese wanted to abduct all of them. “So, I am saying goodbye, just in case I don’t see you again before your boss sends you on to your next big assignment.” She took a step toward him. “Would it be inappropriate to hug you?”

Oscar glanced over his shoulder at his boss who was busy conversing with a couple military men. “He’s not watching right now,” he whispered. Gemma gave him a quick hug.

“Goodnight,” she said. Oscar pointed at the cell phone box.

“I already put my number in there and I’ve got yours. If you need anything, just give me a call, okay?”

Gemma nodded. “I will.” She looked past Oscar and furrowed her brow. Walking into the bright spotlights was Barkley. “Barkley?” she whispered, starting down the ramp again. Oscar looked down at him, too; he not only looked exhausted, but downright irritated. A muscular man wearing a black tank top and cut-off jean shorts walked with him; his arms were tattooed from his wrists to his shoulders.

“Gemma, careful,” Oscar said, sprinting to catch up to her. He walked shoulder-to-shoulder with her until they reached Barkley.

“Barkley, you’re back,” Gemma said. “I told you everything would be okay.”

Barkley’s chest sank and rose and his nostrils flared. “If you consider five days being pent up in an American prison as being ‘okay,’ then yeah, sure—everything’s okay,” Barkley grumbled.

“Look, I told you I was sorry. We’re making real progress here. The—”

“You know what?” Barkley interrupted. “I think it’s best we don’t try to talk to one another right now. I can’t make any promises to be civil right now.”

Gemma bobbed her head. “And I can understand that. I’m exhausted myself. We just got back from Germany a few hours ago.”

“Yes, Gemma—the big hero. And what am I? An aggressive inconvenience who needs to be made an example of. Don’t you ever tire of talking about yourself and all of your marvelous achievements?” Barkley held up his hands. “See, I told you—civility is beyond me right now.”

“Go get some sleep, Barkley,” Oscar said, shouldering his way forward so he stood slightly in front of Gemma. “Nobody’s stopping you.”

“Excuse me—don’t go talking to me like you know me,” Barkley snapped. “And also, you’re kind of in our way.”

“Oh, is he going with you?” Oscar asked, pointing a finger at the man.

“Yes, he is. If Gemma is allowed to bring her friends onto the ship, then why shouldn’t I be?”

“Nobody said you weren’t,” Gemma said. She held out her hand to the man. “I’m Gemma. What’s your name?”

The man looked at her petite hand scrutinizingly. Oscar scowled at the man as he took Gemma’s hand and curtly shook it. “Name’s Alberto.”

“Nice to meet you, Alberto.” Gemma smiled.

“Alberto picked me up and brought me out here in his own vehicle,” Barkley explained. “He’ll be staying a few days. Gemma shrugged her shoulders.

“And he’s welcome to,” she said.

“You’re just trying to justify having your boyfriend here,” Barkley scoffed. He started walking past them.

“Excuse me?”

Barkley stopped. “Oh, right. You’re engaged. My bad.” He started walking away again. Gemma watched them, shaking her head.

“Oh, that man...” she growled. “It’s taken a lot of willpower not to go insane working so closely with him for all of these years.”

“I don’t know how you’ve managed,” Oscar said. “He’s rude, arrogant and just unpleasant. I think we definitely would’ve gotten into multiple brawls by now.”

Gemma raised an eyebrow at him. “I know you said you did some wrestling in high school, but you don’t look like much of a fighter to me. No offense.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Oscar said, chuckling. “I didn’t say I’d win any brawls. Just that I’d be an idiot and get myself into one.”

“Well, for all of sakes, please don’t. Just ignore him like I do.”

“Oscar!” Charles yelled from the canopy near the ramp. It made Oscar flinch. “I told you—you’ve got work to do. Get over here!”

“I gotta go.” Oscar pointed at Alberto. “Keep an eye on that guy, too. I don’t know what his story is or where he came from, but I don’t have a very good feeling about him.”

Gemma nodded. “I agree.” She wished Oscar a goodnight again and then disappeared into the Fortuna. About a half hour later, Oscar was busy coordinating security efforts with the army—barely able to keep his jetlagged eyes open—when he got a text message from Gemma: Hey Oscar, just wanted to see if I could figure this thing out. I may or may not have gotten some help from the technicians, but I think I have it connected and everything. Thank you, and best of luck out there! Gemma.

The message made Oscar smile. But it reminded him he had never told his mom that he had added Gemma’s phone to the phone plan. He stepped away from his work for a moment to give her a quick call. “Hey mom, I hope you weren’t sleeping.”

“Oh, you know me—always staying up much later than I should,” his mom replied.

“Is that Jeopardy I hear in the background?”

“Of course it is! Did you get back from Germany okay?” she asked.

“Yes, I did. I’m really busy getting ready for the president to come out tomorrow, but I wanted to let you know that I got Gemma a cellphone and added it to our plan.”

“Oh. Um. Okay.”

“This way I can call her and she can call me whenever we want. It was getting difficult.”

“So, um, is she like your girlfriend now or...?”

“No, mom. Like I told you—she has a fiance.”

“Hey, nothing’s final until the wedding, just saying.”

“Mom, seriously?” Oscar sighed.

“Look, I know I had my hesitations before, but you really seem to like this girl. I know you haven’t dated in a while and you’re probably nervous, but you should just go for it.”

“She’s pretty committed to her guy, mom. Which is great. I admire her for it and envy the guy that she is so committed to him.”

“But didn’t you say he hasn’t been heard from in months?”

“Yeah... Gemma assumes something must be wrong with their communications system.”

“Or, I’m sorry, they’re all dead floating around in space somewhere.”

“Mom, that’s a terrible thing to say.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I just want you to have a chance at happiness.”

Gemma would make him happy—that was something he knew for sure. But it was foolishness to dwell on the thought. “I better go, mom. Like I said, lots to do. And I’m running on maybe two hours of sleep.”

“Couldn’t sleep on the plane?”

“I rarely can.”

“Or you were too busy flirting with the alien girl,” his mom teased. She laughed at her own joke. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop now. I may have had one too many glasses of wine. Whoops... Shouldn’t have told you that.”

“Mom, please be careful.” Oscar’s grandmother had died of liver failure and his mom already showed signs of fatty liver disease. He was constantly getting after her for drinking, which, unfortunately, had increased significantly since his father passed away. His mother tried to drown her loneliness with alcohol. Oscar wished he could be there for her more often.

“I’ll be fine, honey. I love you.”

“Love you, too. Good night.”

“Night.”

Oscar put his phone back into his pocket. He walked back to the group of men he was working with. He looked down at the tablet’s glowing screen that showed a map of the spaceship and the surrounding area. He yawned and then cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s get this finished as soon as possible so we can get some shut-eye, yes?”

* * *

Alberto sat on the edge of Barkley’s narrow bed, arms folded and ankles crossed. His eyes wandered around the small room while Barkley used the tiny restroom in the corner. “I want to see these supposed weapons, man,” Alberto said when Barkley came out. Barkley grinned and pointed at the bed. “You’re sitting on them.”

Alberto patted the bed with his hand. “Under the bed?”

“Some of them, yes.”

Alberto stood up. Barkley pulled the small mattress off the bed and leaned it against the wall. He then removed the bed board, revealing several hard-shell cases. Barkley pulled one up and out and placed it on the desk. “I’ll show you one, and then I need to borrow your phone so I can arrange a buyer.” Barkley put his thumbs on the latches that held the case closed. “You’re clear on our bargain?”

Alberto rolled his eyes and grumbled. “Yeah, yeah. I help you get them to the buyer and you’ll give me ten percent. That still doesn’t seem like very much, man. I think I deserve more.”

Barkley grabbed the case and started sliding it off the desk. “I can always find someone else.”

“No, no. I’m in, man. I’m in. Just show me the goods already.”

Barkley pressed on the latches and lifted the lid, revealing a sleek weapon. Alberto stepped closer and reached out for it. “Just looks like a normal pistol to me, man,” he said. Barkley scoffed.

“Don’t be so insulting. These weapons are far superior to any you have on Earth.” Barkley lifted it out of the padded case. Alberto held his hands up at chest level.

“Woah, man, is that thing loaded?” He took a nervous step back.

“Always,” Barkley said with a wicked smile.

“So, really, you never run out of ammunition?”

Barkley shook his head. “Never.” He ran his fingertips along the short barrel. “And, like I said, every shot is lethal, no matter where you hit.”

“Yes, with electricity that courses through the veins and stops the heart. Is that really possible?”

Barkley held out his arms. “Is this ship really possible?”

“Good point.” Alberto took a step closer and leaned in to take a closer look at the weapon in Barkley’s hand. “But how close do you have to be? Because that’s still pretty much useless if you have to be close range.”

“By your measuring standards, it’s been proven accurate up to five-hundred yards.”

Alberto gave Barkley a blank stare. “That tiny thing?” He pointed at the weapon and shook his head. “No way.”

Barkley nodded. “And the big guns obviously have a much farther range.”

“That’s…wicked.”

“It really is. It’s also almost completely silent. And, there’s no tracing it.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It leaves no mark on its victims.”

Alberto folded his muscular arms and shook his head again. “Now that’s just too good to be true.”

Barkley carefully put the weapon back in its case and latched it closed. He put it back in the compartment beneath his bed and replaced the mattress. Alberto watched him in silence. “So, who’s this supposed buyer? I hope he’s loaded.”

Barkley grinned. “Oh, he is.”