Aliena by Piers Anthony Page B

Call it love, if you will. That is what you provided, Brom, and why you saved a project that might otherwise have foundered despite the best intention of the best minds on the planet, regardless of the snafu. You were in effect the generalist who saw the ape, or the elephant in the room, that the experts tuned out. You not only sustained her, you provided what she really needed. That is why we shall be forever grateful to you.”
    “I don’t deserve it. I simply fell in love with her.”
    “And she with you. Nature did the rest. That is what every person ultimately needs: to love and be loved. Now she understands, and she will enable her people to understand similarly, and our relationship will be a success. Because of you.”
    Brom spread his hands. “All I want is to be with her.”
    “With the full knowledge of her nature.”
    “Yes, of course.”
    “Now if we can just get the rest of the world to echo that sentiment.” Potus looked around. “I will leave you to yourselves now. I suggest you sleep. It’s a long flight. We don’t have stasis here, yet.” He got up and departed.
    “He’s nice,” Aliena said. “And he’s right about you, Brom. Without you I would be a failure.”
    “Without you I would be an empty husk,” he told her.
    “Let’s go to our room now.” For they had been assigned a private bedroom. It was some plane.
    In the morning, by the clock, as night and day became meaningless on such a flight, they had a very nice catered breakfast. There were entertainments aboard, and the president was a genial host, acting as if he had nothing on his mind other than pleasing them. Brom realized that it was just possible that was true; Aliena was surpassingly important to the political and economic realms. More likely it was fascination; Aliena made no secret of her nature, here, yet still seemed completely human and feminine. It was also possible that Potus appreciated this break from the constant demands of his office.
    In the afternoon they landed in Australia, and a limo whisked them to the masked factory. It looked completely ordinary, until they got into the alien research section, which was almost hermetically sealed from the outside world. Here they came at last to the Stasis Project, which looked pretty much like an electronic center, with myriad screens and indicators.
    A harried official greeted them. “We are at our wits end. The indications are correct, until we turn it on. Then they veer off. We frankly don’t know what to do. We’ve never seen a device like this before. It’s like a World War One airplane technician looking at a modern jet plane and wondering what makes it fly.”
    Aliena surveyed the situation with a glance. Then she walked up to stand before the main array. She whistled briefly, then sang a series of odd notes. Nothing changed. Brom found himself holding his breath.
    “Turn it on,” Aliena said.
    “But you never even touched it!”
    She gave him a direct look that shut him up. He signaled, and power animated the device. All the dials remained positive. It had been fixed.
    The technicians stared.
    “I think we are done here,” Sam said, evidently suppressing a smirk.
    “I don’t know what you—how you—did it, but thank you,” the technician said, plainly awed.
    “It will not give you any more trouble,” Aliena assured him.
    They exited the restricted section. “I’m amazed too,” Brom said.
    “You forget I am an alien creature,” she said with a smile.
    “I love that about you.”
    Sam led the way, scouting as always for possible trouble, while Martha trailed. Brom and Aliena were in the middle.
    Suddenly a door flung open and a wild-eyed man in an executive uniform burst upon them. “Devil woman!” he screamed, drawing a knife.
    Brom was too surprised to react. He just stood there.
    Sam whirled, a plastic pistol appearing in his hand. But Martha was closer. She stepped into the man, blocked him off, and sent him sprawling. Before he could get