Mr. Robertson talked. The kiss-at-the-dance feed repeated itself on the lower left of the screen. The cameras flicked images of Urilqii onto the screen in the upper right. Gorgeous and…Gorgeous…stood bareheaded beneath the lights, an unusual occurrence, and braved the unrelenting attention without a flinch.
Behind them, other soldiers in dress uniforms and the familiar headgear stood in a horseshoe-shaped arch.
Ready to protect; ready to defend.
They didn’t need weapons. They were weapons.
His roommates’ voices rose up behind him, something about him making a piss-poor window, to get his “ass out of the way,” before something cold and slimy, which could have been a spoon full of Rice Krispies, courtesy of Alex, splattered against his back.
Liam wasn’t about to move, but he did sit down. Hard. “Ho-ly fuck.”
A fuss over a kiss. A kiss had done this, giving him an all-nighter with suits. Now, also, the amazing reality of twin aliens, one of which he’d tongued. Something told him things were about to go really, really bad.
Mr. Robertson was talking.
Matt spoke over the man. “Which one’s your guy?”
“Shut up, bro,” said Liam. He inched closer to the TV.
“And as such, you have our express apologies,” Robertson said.
“Please be assured there is no risk of a soft invasion. We require both genders to reproduce, as do you. This gesture was one of politeness and respect, nothing more.”
He paused and swept his gaze across his audience.
“I welcome questions.”
The room exploded into noise. Shouted questions zinged from all sides of the press area. Handheld camera shutters stuttered, chairs scraped, people lurched to their feet and waved their arms for attention. News cameras stood sentinel on their tripods at the side and back walls of the room, manned by users hunched behind them with headphones on their ears.
A florid-faced beanstalk of a man shoved his way through the cluster of reporters on a determined path to the front of the room.
He wore a green apple-colored T-shirt that displayed EARTH PURE across the front and he carried a megaphone in his hand. He raised it to his face. A tormented squeal of sound split the area and brought a collective wince.
“That sickening, unwholesome behavior isn’t welcome here.”
The handheld device turned his hate speech into a vituperative roar. The room fell silent, mouths fell open and expressions slackened from shock. Cameras zoomed in on the audience. Liam knew this because more cutaway squares filled the bottom of the screen as small images were loaded onto the data feed.
“I understand your concerns,” Robertson replied, smooth as chocolate silk cake. “I regret that my soldier’s actions have caused anxiety. However, Sergeant Mike thought only to return the gift of affection and regard that was given to him by—”
The Earth Pure jackass cut in with another roar. “He kissed that guy!”
For a moment, no one said anything. Robertson looked puzzled. A micro-expression flashed across his face, which was replaced by a mask of polite regard. Liam couldn’t read his mind, of course, but he would have sworn the flittered expression translated to, “What the fuck?”
“Please, forgive my confusion,” said Robertson, “but am I to understand the greatest issue here is that my soldier returned a gesture of regard, in the manner it was given to him, to another male?”
“You’re damn right, it is,” spat the goon.
The megaphone gave another earsplitting squeal. Everyone but the Urilqii cringed. Now there was no question about the expression on Robertson’s face. It reflected a man dumbfounded.
“I see. Ah…well…” He struggled to say something, but stalled out and confessed, “I don’t understand. Is it your wish our soldiers not partake in the entertainments of your communities?”
The Earth First protestor pulled the megaphone from his face and snarled, “Not to kiss a guy.”
Robertson continued to struggle. “Your males do not…kiss?”
“Only girls!”
“You are not comfortable with our association with your females due to the concern for a soft invasion. Do you mean to say you are also uncomfortable with our association with your males and for the same reason? Unplanned fertility?”
“No, damn it. I’m saying—”
Another voice cut in, this one female. “You’re saying that two men kissing is repellant. Disgusting. Shameful.”
Cameras and heads turned. A woman was spotted as the probable interruption because she was currently trying to shove her way past the brace of security guards that blocked the doorway.
Lenses zoomed in for a closer look.
She wore the rainbow-colored shirt of an LGBTQ advocate group and a leather Confederate officer’s cap decorated with a chain atop its bill. Others behind her, ones similarly garbed, pushed and shoved, sending ripples through the knot of arms, legs and bodies.
“Of course it is.”
The goon spat the reply after favoring her with a sneer.
Bedlam ensued: screams, insults, shouts and even tossed chairs.
One of his roommates muttered, but Liam couldn’t guess who had made the sound. Each wore near identical expressions of shock, horror, and nausea. The exact emotions stirring Liam’s guts.
It’s just a fucking kiss, dammit!
“We have no wish to offend, so please educate us,” said Robertson. “Apparently, returning what we believed was a gesture of regard is an incorrect action. In actuality, the gesture was an insult. Then what’s the accepted response? Are we to return the insult verbally, to withdraw, or perhaps enforce a soldier’s personal boundary via minimal violence? Is minor forehead-to-forehead contact acceptable? Or hand-to-face combat with no actual damage?”
But no one was listening to him. They were busy shouting their viewpoints. When a fistfight broke out, Robertson gave up. He stepped away from the podium, summoned his people with a gesture, and the Urilqii exited. The live news feed continued to roll, documenting the brawl.
Liam fell backward onto the carpet and covered his face with his hands. “Oh, shit…oh, shit…oh, shit…”
He repeated the litany, sickened. What was nothing more (or less) than a hot-as-hell-kiss had turned into an interspecies incident. Way to fucking go.
Jeff lowered the volume. A spoon scraped inside a bowl. Rice Krispies crunched. The window blinds came down with a couple of hiccups as Matt tugged on the cord. The room
