Penthouse Palimpsest
"Palimpsest"literally means rubbed again; a parchment previously written upon that bears traces of the erased texts.
POP!
"Another bottle?" Mike Donovan asked incredulously.
"Sure," Kristine Walsh laughed. "How often do we celebrate our coverage of the story of the century?" she asked as she poured champagne first into her crystal wine glass, then Mike's.
It was the early morning hours after the people of Earth first established contact with aliens who were now being called "the Visitors." After their big night, Kristine, one of the U.S.A.'s most prominent TV news personalities, asked Mike Donovan, himself a leading news cameraman, over to her penthouse apartment in New York City to celebrate. She did not have to ask twice. Presently, the two sat on Kristine's large sofa in her living room, which looked out over the city's immense skyline. The New York Mother Ship was just visible in the distance.
"Keep in mind we lucked into it," Mike said, taking a slow sip.
"It wasn't luck…I stacked the deck we drew from to get the pool."
"Oh, come on!"
"Hmmm…," Kristine mumbled as she swallowed the sweet champagne. "I really did!" Mike looked at her, then chuckled with genuine amusement. "Did you put the tape in?" asked Kristine as she quickly pulled her legs beneath her, getting more comfortable on the luxurious leather sofa.
"You already saw it on the network when it aired," Mike said, a small hint of weariness in his voice. Despite being in terrific physical shape, his back protested. After all, he had just been covering the outbreak of fierce hostilities in El Salvador when the Visitors first arrived. Donovan was very much short on quality sleep. But he obliged Kristine, putting the tape into her VCR.
"Yeah. Wasn't it terrific? Everyone's reactions…" She reached for the remote. "Play it again, Sam. One more time."
The anchorman's voice boomed from the television: "For those of us accustomed to the likes of Close Encounters or Darth Vader's futuristic Star Destroyer, our first glimpses inside the spacecraft of the Visitors were somewhat unexpected…even disappointing..."
Kristine, intent on the TV, attempted to pour more champagne into Mike's glass, but missed.
"Kris…Try to get a little in the glass."
Mike was bemused when he noticed Kristine's full attention was on the screen.
The anchorman continued, "No great walls of lights, or other things science-fiction buffs would take in stride. The docking bay looked rather like the hangar deck of one of our big aircraft carriers."
Now it was Kristine's voice which emanated from the speakers: "John tells us this landing bay can handle three dozen shuttlecraft and that there are over 200 other landing bays like this one throughout each of the 50 gigantic mother ships. The lighting is somewhat…"
Mike interjected suddenly, "Just your average interstellar Welcome Wagon. It all seems a little easy, doesn't it?"
"Fast forward, Mike," she told him, sounding a little exasperated.
"Your life is on fast-forward," he retorted even as he did as she said. Then he stopped.
The footage was now of Kristine speaking with a distinguished middle-aged man in the orange-red uniform. Splayed across his left shoulder were five broad stripes. He called himself "John" when he introduced himself up on the roof of the United Nations Headquarters. Kristine asked John, "You have both male and female in your crew?"
"Of course." He gestured to the brunette next to him, and Donovan had focused his camera on her. "This is Diana, our second-in-command."
"Your girlfriend. You gave her more close-ups than me," Kristine pouted as she watched the footage. Mike chuckled, amused.
Kristine: "Hello."
Diana: "Hello."
John: "Diana's in charge of all the scientific aspects of our mission. Shall we go forward to the engine room?"
Diana: "This is what you would call our engine room."
Kristine: "And the yellow doors we passed?"
Diana: "Restricted areas, a lot of radioactivity. Our gravity drive is quite effective as you've seen, but takes up nearly half the ship. It enables us to travel at a velocity approaching the speed of light."
Kristine: "How long have your people had this technology?"
Diana: "About a hundred years."
Kristine: "What does the rest of the ship…" The camera had been trained on Diana, and Mike had zoomed in tight for a close up as the alien woman spoke.
"You see?" Kristine complained. "Another close-up!" She moved as if to pour champagne on Mike's head.
"Whoa-oh!" Donovan laughed, stopping her. All laughing ceased as they noticed their faces were inches apart.
Kristine whispered, "Why didn't it work for us before? I'd like to try again."
Their lips met in a kiss.
As Mike and Kristine kissed, they both could hear the tape's audio playback in the background. Kristine: "Cryogenic?"
Diana: "Super cooled. Maximum efficiency in storage."
Kristine: "Now you also mentioned living quarters for the crew. How many are there on each ship?"
Diana: "It varies. Several thousand."
Kristine: "Can we talk to some of them?"
John: "Of course you can, Kristine. You'll have plenty of opportunity for that."
Donovan hit the pause button as they continued to kiss.
Kristine stopped suddenly and looked at him seriously. "Mike, did she…did Marjorie… ever know about us?"
"Marjorie…? No." He shook his head. "I shouldn't have sought you out like that. I really don't blame you for pushing so hard for another assignment. After all, I was married."
"Separated," she pointed out.
"Yeah, but it wasn't fair…to her or to you."
Kristine smiled, "Thanks, Mike." Mike started to say something else, but then she silenced him by putting a finger over his lips. Still smiling, Kristine worked on the buttons of his shirt. Meanwhile, Donovan leaned to nuzzle her neck. With one hand, he reached for the buttons on her blouse. His other hand was busy trying to balance both his and her glass of champagne, being careful not to spill any of the expensive liquid.
"Hold on a second," Kristine interrupted. "There's something I need to tell you…" She sat up.
"What? Now?" Donovan asked, trying to disguise his mild annoyance. "What could be so important at a time like this?" He, too, sat up.
Kristine sighed and brought her hand up in an almost pleading gesture but then dropped it. "I really don't know where to begin."
Mike smiled, as if to reassure her. Inwardly, though, he tried to steel himself, preparing for whatever Kristine was going to tell him. "Kris, why don't you just tell me? It can't be that bad, right?"
She smiled wanly. "Actually, Mike, it is." Kristine took a deep breath. "You see, when you came to me when you and Marjorie were having problems, that made me… happy. I realized I was in love with you. I wasn't thinking clearly. YOU weren't thinking clearly. Then, when you came back to your senses, you left. And I understood. You thought the two of you could work out your problems."
Kristine paused, as if to win back some emotional strength that she felt had drained from her. "You see, I had an abortion, Mike." She paused again, looking at him, finding his face inscrutable. Deep down, though, she knew that he was in shock from her revelation. She pushed forward once again. "I got pregnant, and I didn't want to tell you. I didn't want to be a burden." She looked at him again, yet Mike's poker expression remained. "Then, when I found out about the divorce, I had already gone through with it." Kristine leaned in closer to him, seeking out his free hand. When she found it, she squeezed. "I'm sorry, Mike, I really am, but I did what I thought was best for me, for us, at the time. Maybe I made a mistake; maybe I didn't. But I just thought you should know."
Mike felt as if somebody had punched him in the gut. After a long pause, he sighed, "Damn, Kris, I don't know what to say. I wish you had told me."
"No, Mike, what would you have done? Besides, I'm not the marrying type."
"I could have helped you. I was the father, for Christ's sake, don't I get a say?"
"Please, Mike, what's done is done. I can't change what happened… Think of the talk. We're colleagues, professionals. I would never had made it to the network desk."
"You and your career, Kris," he shook his head. "That's the real reason why you had the abortion, isn't it?"
"No, Mike, it's not," Kristine interjected, averting her eyes and looking at her hands. "Damn, I shouldn't have told you."
"Yes, you should have. I needed to know." Donovan started to rise from the sofa.
"Please don't leave, Mike," she begged, pulling him towards her. At first, Mike tried to resist. He knew that if he had wanted to, he could easily overpower her and leave. But the truth was that something inside him did not want to resist.
He laid back on the sofa and drew her closer onto him. He whispered, "Kris…" He began kissing her again, surrendering, succumbing to the moment. Without thinking, he slackened his grip on the champagne glasses, which clinked onto the thick rug. Champagne spilled onto the fabric, soaking it.
Kristine giggled, "Don't worry about it, Mike."
"It was a losing battle from the start anyway," Mike remarked.
"What do you mean?"
"Trying to balance both glasses…was…never…going…to…work…anyway."
With each pause, he laid kisses on her shoulders and neck.
His free hand found her breast through her bra. Experienced fingers knew how to move, and experience told Donovan that his moves were effective. Small sounds escaped from Kristine as he moved his hands and kissed her in all the right places. She smiled down at him when his task of removing her clothing was complete. Mike returned her grin, knowing and feeling that Kristine had just as expertly removed all the impediments off of him.
They clutched each other in a warm embrace, skin on skin, each breathing in the other's scent. They both giggled as they made love, remembering the other times they shared each other this way, and now eager to explore new boundaries together.
Afterwards, Kristine curled up atop Mike's strong, muscular chest, smiling. "That was amazing, Mike." He grinned and kissed her. "You remembered just what I like…even after all this time."
"That's something I can't forget, Kris. The body has a mind of its own, you know."
"I guess you're right."
"Come here and I'll show you," Mike offered, teasingly. He cupped her breast and softly rubbed her nipple.
Kristine pulled away. "Mike, I can't…I'm sorry…I've got an early morning ahead of me. And we both have to get back to Los Angeles."
Mike sighed but did not protest. Kristine turned, with her back to him. Mike lay in bed with his hands laced behind his head, thinking.
The television caught his eye. Mike was surprised to discover that the tape was paused. A vision of Diana filled the screen. But more than that, Diana's image filled the room. Mike turned his head. Sure enough, the glow of the New York Mother Ship was visible.
Suddenly it dawned on him, and a chill ran up his spine. "She saw us make love."
"WhWhat?" Kristine's sleepy voice asked him.
"Oh, nothing, good night."
"G'night."
Disturbed, Donovan had trouble falling asleep. Diana, and the Visitors, were everywhere…
The End