Monday Before Taco Tuesday

Stephen J. Steyr III missed his old life. Humanity’s ambassador to the Galactic Combine, he had been plucked from his position as a professor of linguistics at Kenyon College, Ohio. He knew he had to follow along and make nice, smile without showing teeth, and accept the award graciously. He also knew it was undeserved.

As the Speaker of the Combine read off his “heroic” deeds, Stephen wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear. He hadn’t done anything they said he had.

“The Honorable Ambassador Steyr from Terra is the true definition of hero.”

Stephen felt his stomach lurch. Don’t read the whole thing, he pleaded in his thoughts.

“Ambassador Steyr showed great courage and the highest ideals of Combine culture when he stopped a terrorist plot right here in the capital. Not only did he incapacitate and detain all seven terrorists until the authorities could pick them up, but he did so without any loss of life.

“In addition, while fighting for his own life and the lives of the other ambassadors, he disarmed their explosive device and contained the bio-contaminate they wished it to disperse.

“For his heroic acts, Ambassador Stephen James Steyr the Third is awarded the Star of Luminance; the highest military or civilian honor the Combine can offer.” The Speaker motioned him forward and laid the long ribbon bearing a diamond star that shone with its own inner light over his shoulders.

Stephen gave a slight bow and raised a hand to touch the Speaker’s manipulator tentacle in the Combine equivalent of a handshake. The ambassadors in the chamber cheered and Stephen let himself be led away from the podium.

The ceremony was the only thing on the agenda for the day, so the ambassadors were ready to start filing out. Stephen only noticed once he’d been led there, that he was positioned right outside the main doors with the security detail.

He spent the next interminable hour smiling and touching hands, claws, tentacles, paws, and manipulators that could be compared to no earthly thing. The last to exit was Antulla, the ambassador from Gensua; an eight-limbed, eight-eyed, quadrupedal, orange-furred creature Stephen considered a friend.

“Come, Steve, we’ll have a drink in my quarters.”

“Sure.” Stephen reached to pull the medal off, but Antulla stopped him.

“You must not take it off in public,” she said, “as it would be an insult to the Combine.”

“Does that mean I have to wear it all the time?”

“Only while on official business. Even heroes get to have a private life.” Antulla winked with the four eyes on the side closest to Stephen, in a quick series.

“Have I ever told you how disturbing that is?”

“You have. Why do you think I do it?”

Stephen leaned into her, bumping his shoulder into her side. “Thanks for being my friend, even if you’re mean.”

“Oh, please. I tease you with my eyes, but the way you bipeds walk…. If I hadn’t been around the council for a long time, it would still make me dizzy with fright.”

“Well, get me drunk enough, and I’ll be a quadruped, too.” He put a hand on the bristle-like fur of her arm. “Speaking of, I’m ready to get drunk enough to forget all this.”

Her quarters seemed larger than his because she had no kitchen. Her status as a senior member of the ambassadorial council meant she had staff to handle things like cooking and cleaning. Where his quarters had a small kitchen, she had a wet bar, at which she was already fixing drinks.

“Alcohol for you, and querinol for me.” She handed him a heavy rocks glass with an amber liquid on ice.

He took a tentative sip. “This is smooth. Where is this from and how do I get some?”

“It’s a Kerian distilled beverage…kth’at’ktl if I’m pronouncing it right.” She sipped her own drink, a murky pink. “The ambassador from Ker’ata will bring some as a gift when he visits. It’s the number two export from their home world, right after carbon-14.”

“I’ll have to remember that.” Stephen lifted the medal off, setting it on the table beside him. A shudder of shame came over him.

“You have to talk to me, Steve. Tell me what’s got you down.”

“I’ll need another drink first,” he said, “before I’m ready to embarrass myself like that.”

After small talk over several drinks and a light snack, Stephen had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. Antulla stretched out on the soft couch and he joined her, leaning against her. Her fur was an odd combination of stiff and soft.

“Talk to me,” she said.

“Andy, Andy, Andy…you’re going to hate me. I’m a coward, not a hero.”

“I could never hate you,” she said. “You’re the only creature with a higher body temperature than me that’ll snuggle like this.”

He chuckled. “Okay, fine. I can’t just…tell it, but I’ll answer your questions.”

“The first terrorist, the Alulian…how did he end up temporarily blinded?”

“Oh, the gecko-thing.” Stephen sighed. “I was cooking, getting some stuff ready for the next day’s dinner.”

“You were cooking for the following day? Is that a normal thing for Terrans?”

“Sometimes, when there’s stuff that can be done ahead of time. Anyway, it was Monday on the human calendar, so I was making salsa and chips for Taco Tuesday.”

Stephen could tell that she had more questions, but she held back. He continued.

“He broke open my door and came straight for me. I dropped my peanut-butter sandwich and reached for the knife I’d been slicing onions with. He tried to snatch it with his sticky tongue, but ended up getting my sandwich instead.

“While he was busy looking like a dog trying to get the peanut butter off his tongue, the oil for the chips caught fire. I moved the pan off the hob and grabbed the bag of baking soda I keep on hand for that sort of thing. Problem was, I still had the knife in my hand, and at least a third of it ended up as dust in the air.

“I didn’t think about the fact that Alulians can’t blink, and he didn’t think about the peanut butter stuck to his tongue. He reflexively licked his eyes to clear the dust and…began to scream.”

“Did you get the fire out?”

“Yeah, barely, but I forgot to turn off the hob.”

“Who came next?”

“The two Metlians. They circled around to the kitchen entrance. I don’t know why, but since they remind me of giant slugs, I poured a line of salt across the entry on that side of the kitchen. I was just lucky it worked, because I was frozen in fear for a moment.

“When they touched the salt and recoiled in pain, I ran around to the other side and blocked them in with an arc, leaving them trapped in a kind of crooked circle of salt. Meanwhile, the gecko had gone from screaming to crashing blindly around the flat.”

Stephen finished his drink and held it out for a refill. He figured that now he was on a roll, he may as well finish the story.

“I ran to the panic room and pushed the button to open it, and the four lizard-guys in security uniforms ran in. I was so glad to see them, I dropped the knife and made straight for them.

“When one of them raised a weapon at me, I realized the uniforms didn’t fit them well at all. The panic room was open, and the gecko had already stumbled in there.

“The one with the pistol motioned me away from the panic room. With the other three taking up space, that meant I had to squeeze past the slugs into the kitchen. One of the lizard-men had a box in his hands, and it started to beep.

“He threw it at me, and when I stepped back, I knocked over the blender full of habanero salsa. Some of it spilled on the hob and began smoking. The smoke was blinding; it felt like chili oil had been rubbed directly into my eyes.

“The device the lizard-fellow had thrown at me was still beeping and I’m not sure why, but I picked it up and dropped it in the basin full of soapy dish water. There was a shot fired, and a hole burned into the cabinet near my head.

“That’s when I grabbed the nearest thing to hand, the half-full blender of salsa, and threw it at him. The salsa sprayed in a wide arc, hitting all four of them close enough to the face to send them into coughing, gagging fits.

“I was still half-blind from the chili smoke and the lizard-guys were scrambling to find their way out. The slugs had forced themselves across the salt when the smoke got too much for them and ended up heading toward the panic room where the gecko was still thrashing about.

“The lizard-guys picked that direction as well. I guess they thought it was a way out. As soon as they were in, I hit the emergency panel again, closing the panic room from the outside, and then stumbled back into my kitchen to find milk to wash my eyes out with…and to turn off the hob.”

Stephen drained another drink, unaware that Antulla had been diluting them with water to the point they barely had any color. He set the glass down and pointed at the medal. “I didn’t earn that, I don’t deserve it, Andy. You probably think I’m pathetic now, right?”

“Not at all. You ended up in that situation through no fault of your own. You adapted, you survived, and you saved a lot of lives.” She put an arm around his shoulders. “You deserve that medal. But…I have a question.”

“What?”

“What is a ‘Taco Tuesday’?”