President Roberts strode confidently towards the alien spacecraft, his daughter Sophia trailing in his wake. He did not usually "bring his children to work", but then, this was no ordinary first meeting. Sophia Roberts had been a strategic choice; she carried a significant amount of popularity in her own right. Her Air Force career had been the topic of discussion as much as her fashion choices, since her father had assumed the presidency, three years ago. The American public and press thought highly of the young woman; who as often as not, had her own opinions and no compunction about speaking her mind. In particular, she was a known supporter of the space program, while her father had been outspokenly against it, at times. There was a certain undeniable polarity between the Roberts, younger and elder, but a great mutual respect and love, as well.

Watney, for his part, had endorsed this notion. He thought that Oaiea would probably enjoy meeting her first female human. And it couldn't be denied that Sophia was Perry Robert's pride and joy, on a personal level. The implied level of trust could only be a good thing for the meeting, as well as in the court of public opinion.

Father and daughter had reached the airlock.

"Ladies first." He smiled down at his daughter.

She gave him one of her peerless, fearless grins, and he felt his heart melt a little.

x x x

Please sit. Oaiea gestured to the two small chairs in the lower section of the ship. They had already been through a brief exchange of welcomes and introductions, and now, President Roberts was starting to feel a little bit less anxious; after all, he had Watney listening in with his communication device for translation assistance; he'd spent plenty of meetings in the hands of translators and dialect coaches. This wasn't too big a leap.

"Oaiea, thank you again for inviting us aboard. This is..." he trailed off. Oaiea was placing a covered bowl on the console table nearby. She gestured to him to take it. Oh dear.

"Delicious. Thank you." His daughter had already taken a polite sip, bless her. She placed her bowl back on the table carefully.

President Roberts fumbled in his inner jacket pocket, producing a small manila envelope, which he offered to Oaiea.

"I've brought you a little something. Call it a 'Welcome to Earth' gift."

Oaiea looked at the envelope with a quizzical expression, and handed it back to him. She spoke then, to her computer. Perry jumped at the unexpected sound of the crashing trills and chords, and stilled himself. Had he done something wrong? He glanced at Sophia, who raised her eyebrows and widened her eyes a tiny bit.

Mark's voice chimed in, "It's okay, she just doesn't know about envelopes. Open it for her."

"Oh. Sorry." He turned it over, unfastened the metal cleat, while Oaiea watched, fascinated. He slid the dark blue, gold-embossed passport out onto the console table, and pushed it towards her several inches with his fingertips.

"This is your passport. This means that while you, and your ship, are in American territory, you are an American citizen, with all the same rights and privilege as the rest of us." He still wasn't sure why she cared, but apparently this was what she wanted. He looked at her expectantly.

Thank you. Oaiea opened a long, white box, and carefully removed a crystalline tablet. She offered it to him, with a solemn look. This is yours.

He studied the tablet. It was divided into quarters, with alien symbols and pictographs. There was a star chart showing the solar system, a diagram of earth, and a picture of him; he recognized it from his Wikipedia page. His eyes swam as he tried to make sense of what he was looking at. Oh, wait, there was English lettering here, too.

Earth

United States of America

President Perry George Roberts

Citizen and Ambassador

Peacemaker

"This is..." he trailed off, overcome. "This is something I will treasure, forever. Thank you."

Your ship will be welcomed by my people. Your voice will now be forever heard. You are a citizen of my people now. She inclined her head at him, and then spoke to Mark again.

Perry remained silent, tracing his fingertip along the edge of the tablet. It seemed solid, something that would survive the ages. It felt good, in his hands. He understood now, how Watney felt about his little round computer device. He was never letting go of this thing. Ever.

Mark's voice chimed in again, "President Roberts, that passport thing is a computer. She wants you to tap the bottom right quadrant on it, then record your first message to her planet's government. Say thank you, or something. Then double tap it to send. It'll take a few hundred years, but they'll get it eventually."

Perry tried to wrap his head around that. He shook his head, eyes closed.

"Oaiea, I am not worthy of this honor. My country is just one of hundreds on this planet. I'm not the best qualified-I'm not sure if I can..." he trailed off. To his eternal shame, he felt his eyes burn, and his throat ache. He fumbled for his handkerchief.

You will do fine, President Roberts. She smiled at him.

Sophia reached over and squeezed his hand in hers. "You're going to be great, Dad."

x x x

"I still say we should definitely drive out to Arlington National Cemetery so Mark can see his memorial before they take it away, again." Beck grinned at Mark, who rolled his eyes and yawned.

"I think that might be a few too many warmongering dead humans, for our friend here," Mark gestured to Oaiea, who was gamely attempting to discuss fashion with Sophia Roberts. Sophia was showing Oaiea pictures of evening gowns on her cell phone, as Oaiea nodded and gestured. The four of them had formed an unlikely late-night sightseeing group after Sophia had offered to show Oaiea the highlights of Washington's National Mall.

President Roberts had declined their offer to join them ("You kids go on and have fun!") in favor of a late-night meeting with his public speaking team, as they tried to tackle the "thank you, or something" speech Mark had recommended.

Beck was glad to see that Oaiea had apparently recovered from the gravity sickness of several nights before; but he was, he had to admit, a bit chapped that she continued to address him as Dr. Bossy Beck, despite his attempt to correct her.

The National Air & Space Museum had been the hit of the evening. Oaiea had been beyond fascinated, taking thousands of pictures with her computer, laughing and smiling at the quaint ways of the early Earth astronauts. There was even a display on the Ares Program, and Oaiea had pored happily over the models of Hermes and the Habs. Mark's "Ayyyy!" photo, taken with Pathfinder, elicited more laughter. Most human humor eluded her, but Oaiea had watched Happy Days-she could even do a passable Fonz impression herself, much to everyone's amusement.

Now they were back in the motorcade limousine, and Mark was exhausted. The comfortable, deep-sprung leather seats were doing their work, and it would be a long drive back to Langley. The feeling of friendship and safety and companionship surrounded him like a warm blanket. His eyes drifted closed, a faint smile on his lips.