(One Year Later)
A Wrinkle in Time. Madelyn L'engle.
Are You There, God? It's Me Margaret. Beverly Cleary.
The Handmaid's Tale. Margaret Atwood.
Persepolis. Marjane Satrapi.
There's always that one book in an author's entire career that assures their place within the pantheon of literary giants. The one that gets studied in the universities for generations and allows their descendants to live in comfort, if not luxury.
Up to now, notoriety of that magnitude had always eluded Helga's career as a writer. It wasn't like she was some starving artist using rejection letters to wallpaper the house, far from it; in putting to paper the stories and myths Gerald prided himself on being keeper of once upon a time, she had solidly established herself within the YA market while keeping the stories of Monkeyman, the Ghost Bride and the rest passed along from kid generation to kid generation. That said, the appeal of her work had never seemed to stretch farther than the Western coast of the United States (particularly Washington and Oregon), but all in all she never seemed to sneer at the distinction of being Hillwood's literary hometown hero despite having buckets of talent.
Then, shortly before the birth of her daughter Stella Antionette Shortman came a little book called The Second Orbit. The plot followed a general from a far-off galaxy named Y'niarb and his one-man mission to assassinate an alien princess hiding in exile on Earth after her family died in a revolution on their home planet. In many respects writing this was a massive departure from what Helga was used to; her forte up to that point had been poetry and coming of age short stories that dabbled in the supernatural. By contrast The Second Orbit was a sci-fi epic novel with political overtones about fascism, war, and the use of history as a partisan cudgel. But Helga was never one to back away from a challenge, especially with inspiration gnawing at her night and day like a ravenous grub on a tree trunk.
To say that The Second Orbit was met with critical acclaim would have been a massive understatement; review after review gave it the highest commendations they could, and some went as far as to call it 'genre defining'. As far as sales were concerned, saying copies flew off the shelves implied that they spent any time on them. Bookstores across the country, from the humblest mom and pop place to the big bookstore chains, invited Helga to do signings with promises of handsome appearance fees. None the less, her role as mother took first and foremost priority making most of these tours (namely the ones outside of the state) webcam events with pre-signed copies of her latest books. At the signings she could do in person, Helga also noticed that her success with this book trickled into the sales of her previous works. She smiled for every picture, personalized every autograph, and by now could answer every question asked of her in her sleep…that is all but one;
"I just have to know. Where did you get the idea for this story?"
Helga looked up at the woman on the line of people waiting at Bookends that morning for her autograph. Her face screwed up in a tired smile over how many people asked this question thinking they and they alone will pry that coveted pearl of information from the impenetrable clam of her mind. None the less, she humors this signature seeker who introduces herself as Lacey.
"Well, Lacey, as much as I'd like to say there was something in my life, or that this is an allegory for the sad state of affairs in the world, I can't. Call it a cop out, but this idea just came to me out of the blue."
To her surprise, Lacey gives a contented shrug as if seemingly satisfied with her answer. With a final expression of gratitude, she takes the book from Helga's hands and makes her way down the line and out of the bookstore.
(Later. In the Secret Tunnels)
"Your majesty. All you have asked of me on this planet has been done. A copy of Helga's book is in my possession and beginning tomorrow work will be done to translate it into Qualx. And in this spirit, I request permission to return home. Mission 112417 Admiral Enel-R'ahma U'thrmdugyl Aerospace Armada Commander of the UGAQ."
With her dispatch sent, the epidermal gloves come off and are dropped upon the tunnel floor. Now freed, "Lacey" gives her gecko-like appendages a shake before peeling the mask from her face and thus revealing her true Thoraxian self. Unlike her compatriots, she had some human features as well, particularly her face, head and all four of hands. Her eyes were piercingly dark blue and bore with such intensity as they adjusted to the darkness beneath the city.
It had been a year since the raid, yet the faint odor of fumes from the sleeping agent still permeated the tunnels and traces of purple still clung to the walls. Laying under a tarp in the middle of the path like a beached dolphin was K'ciuq's spaceship, and now, her transport home. Despite its neglect, the vessel still manages to work well enough to reliably get her back to her home planet without much trouble. As it launches off through the atmosphere for parts of space unknown, memories of leading that commando raid on Earth to apprehend him and the Ooosenuped brothers played vividly in her memory.