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“Well, a bit, yes. Someone else faked my death, and I just took advantage of it. You have a point. I admit it.” After a pause he said, “Charli, one, you had to be there, two, I’m back now, and three, this could be the end of the world. Do you really want this ambiguous ethical judgment to stand between us?”

Charli gazed into the candle flame, then smiled, leaned in, and gave him a gentle kiss. Jake reached for her wrist, but she was too fast for him; she picked up the dishes and took them to the kitchen.

Jake came up behind Charli as she started washing a wine glass. She had a dark granite counter and a brushed stainless steel sink. He put his hands on each side of her and pressed his lips against her ear.

Charli kept washing the glass but more slowly. Jake pulled her shirttails out. He slipped one hand and then the other under her shirt. His weight was fully against her. She slowly put the wine glass down into the bottom of the sink but left the water running. Jake was kissing the side of her neck now and could feel her breathing harder.

He slid one hand down into her jeans. He moved the other across her firm belly and up toward her breasts. When he got there, she turned quickly and kissed him. She put one hand behind his neck. She kissed him harder. She took him by the hand and started leading him to the bedroom. Jake reached out and turned off the water then picked her up and carried her. She was as light as she looked.

She’d finished unbuttoning his shirt when he laid her on the bed. She whispered his name in his ear. With moonlight filtering in through the curtains, they undressed one another. They stopped only to explore each new area of skin as it was exposed.

Jake kissed her breasts, her shoulders, and her neck. She reached and held him with her hand. When he got to her ear he whispered, in a hoarse voice, “I guess your dog wants to watch.”

Charli stiffened. “What?”

“Your dog. He’s watching us.”
Why didn’t I keep my mouth shut? Who cares if the dog watches? I don’t want to spoil the mood.

“Jake, what are you talking about? I don’t have a dog.” The mood was gone. Charli reached over and turned on the light. They both screamed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Jake and Charli had only a few seconds to make out the creature that stood there watching them. They would have had even less time, but it took the animal three seconds of violent scrabbling on the hardwood floor to get any traction. It bounced off the doorjamb and disappeared.

They both jumped out of the bed, unconcerned about their nakedness.

“What did you see?” Jake rushed into the next room. The door to the house was open. He looked back at her.

“Well, it was about as high as the desk, and it had … it looked like …”

“Like a Volkswagen.” Jake said.

“Yeah, or like a big, furry seashell.”

“Black and red fur, kind of like a ladybug.”

Charli snapped her fingers. “Yes, ladybug. That’s what I was going to say. Did you see the legs?”

“Lots,” he said.

Jake reached over to pull her to him, but she was having none of it.
Boy, those aliens sure know how to break up a party.
He hadn’t been with anyone for years. He really wanted to finish what they’d started, but it wasn’t going to happen.

“Did you see any eyes?” Charli started getting dressed. They heard sirens approaching.

“Hold on,” Jake said. “Let’s not discuss what we saw. We don’t want to influence one another. We should each write down our impressions independently.”

“Got it.”

Jake watched Charli pick up her clothes and walk out of the room.

* * *

At six a.m. the place was still crawling with FBI forensic experts, sketch artists, one comparative anatomist, and an artist who painted ducks and birds. Charli sat at the table describing the alien once more. She hadn’t gotten any sleep. When Guccio walked in with a huge grin, she pointed at him and said, “Not one word, Guccio. Not one word.”

McGraw arrived too and filled them in. The sphere had dropped in from space and then zipped out again. It did the same thing again thirty minutes later. “So congratulations, you two, it looks like you are the first humans in history to see an extraterrestrial. Cronkite. The sphere dropped him off and then came back and picked him up.”

“Hope he didn’t interrupt—”

“Shut up, Guccio.” Charli pointed at him again.

* * *

September 23, 2018

In the White House videoconference center, Jake watched the technicians make the final preparations.
Three cups of coffee, and I still feel sluggish.

They’d followed instructions that Cronkite had uploaded, but the setup wasn’t that different from a normal videoconference. The heavy lifting was all done on Cronkite’s end. His sphere hovered a mile above the White House.

When Jake had arrived, Charli pulled him into an empty room and gave him a kiss full of promise.
Looks like she’s finally made up her mind.

Now, Charli sat directly across from him. She was his handler. They’d prepared some hand signals, the most important being a slash across the throat to mean “shut up right now!” She also had a handheld white board, as did the psychologists Avraham and Zaluski.

Guccio had suggested earpieces for communication, but after discussion they decided that Cronkite might be able to intercept the signals and hear what was said.

At noon they were “on the air.” Jake looked in the monitor. There they were, seated at the familiar triangular table. Cronkite wore a conservative suit.

Cronkite removed his trademark glasses and addressed the camera. “Welcome, Citizens of Earth, to this momentous occasion, your first conversation with a real, live alien. I am here with the president of the strongest country on the planet. You might say that this man is the king of Earth, President Dane Hallstrom.” Cronkite paused as if waiting for applause.

“My other guest,” he continued, “is Mr. Jake Corby, the best problem-solver on your whole planet. He is the smartest man on Earth. Isn’t that true Mr. Corby?”

“Well, I wouldn’t …” He glanced toward Charli. She violently shook her head and slashed her hand across her throat. Jake said, “Thank you very much, sir, for your generous assessment.”

Charli nodded and gave him a thumbs up.

Cronkite laid his glasses on the table. “I’m sure that you have many questions for me, but let me start with a brief statement. As I mentioned in my first broadcast, your world will soon be under attack from a malevolent entity. I apologize if I got a little worked up in that broadcast. I probably came across as a petulant teenager or an old Alzheimer who wants to shoot someone’s lights out. Sorry about that, Chief.”

Jake’s mouth dropped open.
Oh no! He’d intercepted that entire videoconference.

Cronkite continued. “You are all aware of the sneeze and the terrible pain attack that occurred recently. Let that be an indication of the power and insensitivity of the malignant civilization that is on its way here. You are fortunate that I have chosen to help you in this matter. The attack will be ferocious, and, as I implied before, I’m not even sure if I can help you. Together, we will do everything in our power to keep your planet safe. But know this: some of the preparations we will make together will be unpleasant for you. Know that, in the long run, they will be to your benefit, no matter what happens. Sometimes I will work in ways that will be mysterious to you.”

Cronkite folded his hands on the table in front of him. “And now, I'm sure you have many questions for me, and I look forward to answering them honestly and completely. Gentlemen?”

Hallstrom cleared his throat. “I’d like to start by thanking you for coming to our aid. We are all—”

“Cut the crap.” Cronkite said it quickly, with little emotion.

“Pardon me?” Hallstrom said.

“First question, please.”

Charli wrote “No smirk!” on her whiteboard.

Hallstrom cleared his throat again. “Can you tell us when we can expect this attack from … does this civilization have a name?”

Cronkite made a sound reminiscent of an old-fashioned modem making a connection. “To translate that to your language, let’s call them the Kraken.”

Jake said, “As in ‘Release the Kraken?’”

“The Krakens.”

“Is that what you call them?” Jake asked.

Charli held up the white board and pointed to it with the marker. “Watch your tone!”

Cronkite responded to the question. “No I call them …” and he made the noise again.

Hallstrom asked, “Have you done this before—protected other civilizations?”

“Many times.”

Jake was next. “Are we talking days, weeks, months?”

Cronkite said, “Before they come?”

“Yes.”

Cronkite sounded peeved now. “It could be any time, but perhaps you have a year.”

Zaluski wrote “AVOID THAT. CHOOSE NEUTRAL TOPIC” on her whiteboard.

“Shall we call you Cronkite?” Hallstrom asked.

“That’s as good a name as any. I like it. Walter Cronkite was a good person. Perhaps ‘Sir Cronkite’ would be an even better choice.”

Hallstrom said, “We are grateful for your help, Sir Cronkite. Can you tell us why you have chosen to assist us?”

Jake frowned. Hallstrom was good at diplomacy, but wasn’t he laying it on a little thick, especially considering the ‘cut the crap’ comment earlier?

Cronkite paused and rubbed his chin. “Your civilization has potential. You could make a contribution to the galactic community, assuming you are not wiped out. Of course, I’m talking long term, perhaps in a million years.”

“Earth years?” Jake asked.
Silly question.

Cronkite rolled his eyes. “Yes, Jake. One million Earth years.”

“Are you acting on your own or under orders from others in your society?” Jake couldn’t bring himself to call him “Sir Cronkite.”

Cronkite crossed his arms and frowned. “I do not take orders from anyone.”

“I just meant …”

“I know what you meant, Jake. I am not acting alone, I have the backing of my entire civilization in what I do, but no one has ordered me to do it. Can you understand that?”

“Yes, Sir Cronkite.” Hallstrom jumped in. “We can tell that you are a top-level operative and very capable.”

Jake looked at Hallstrom.
Okay, now we’re going over the top. Surely Cronkite realizes that we are kissing his butt like crazy. Can he think we’re serious?

“Can you tell us, Sir Cronkite,” Jake asked, “what you will do to help us prepare for the battle with the Krakens?”

“Yes, indeed. I have wonderful ideas. First, you must make progress on the devices for which you received plans. Have you been able to build any?”

Hallstrom answered. “We have—”

“The plans are tricky to understand,” Jake glanced at Hallstrom, “but we have made some breakthroughs, and we are confident that we can not only understand but build all the devices soon. The scientists are eager to show you what we have. You will like the results. You will have some devices in your, ah, hands soon.”

Hallstrom raised his arm a bit, as if he were in class. “Why do you think that a decrease in population was important? Will it help us fight?”

“Mostly, it was just stupid for you to have a population of 7.5 billion. Are you guys crazy? What possible advantage could you see in having so many people on this tiny planet? Two billion works fine. No problems with resources, fewer wars over land, oil, water.”

“Did you do this to help us in a conflict against the Krakens?” Jake asked this quickly.

“Well, in part.” Cronkite froze. Everything about the computer-generated reproduction of Walter Cronkite screamed “Oops.” Cronkite seemed to try to repair the damage. “In part, that could help, but of course I didn't decrease your population, that's something that you did following my suggestion.”

Jake kept his expression neutral.
Nice try, Dimwit.

Charli scribbled furiously. “Back off!! Mission accomplished. Change subject!”

Hallstrom said, “No, we didn't do that.”

Charli circled “Change subject” on her whiteboard and tapped on it while glaring at them. She wrote “What he looks like.”

Jake looked at the image of Cronkite, shook his head slightly, then tilted his head down, put his hand on his cheek, and mouthed the words “What a bozo.”

Hallstrom asked, “Many of us here on earth are curious about what you look like—”

Cronkite shouted, “Oh, I’m a bozo, am I? A bozo. That’s what you think? Well then, Earth’s number one problem-solver asshole, you’re so smart, why don’t you tell me what this button does?” A big red button appeared in the center of the table. Everyone but Jake looked totally mystified about this change in the direction of the conversation.
Jake’s eyes were wide. Before anyone could say something, Cronkite lifted his arm into the air and smashed his fist down on the button.

Power went out in the White House, and all the screens went black. The whole room was dark, and the battery-powered emergency lights didn’t come on. Charli’s laptop made a fizzing sound.