May 5, 2440 11:30 AM
Eric Garcia arrived with K.C. at 11:30 and found Matt’s kitchen already full of people who looked like they had been told the day was going to get worse and had decided to eat anyway.
That was how Eric knew it was serious.
People who panicked forgot food. People Matt trusted were handed a plate and put to work before they had time to decide they were overwhelmed.
K.C. stopped just inside the door, eyes wide. “There are aliens in the kitchen.”
“There are aliens everywhere,” Eric said. “Try to act local.”
“I am local.”
“Then look less impressed.”
“I am thirteen. This is my job, dad.”
Across the kitchen, Dave Roxas looked up from a tablet, saw them, and lifted two fingers in greeting without stopping whatever argument he was having with Pam Littleton. Pam had three screens open in front of her, a paper notebook beside them, and the expression of a woman who had already found six problems and was deciding which one deserved mercy.
Rayya Chakrobarty stood at the long counter with Dixie, both of them taking notes while a V’ren woman ran through her own list. The latest who’s-who packet, sent just a few minutes ago, said she was H’stal D’yem. Eric decided her description meant she was the V’ren Office of Personnel.
Jimmy Chakrobarty was the only person he recognized from the group of people standing by the pantry door with plates. They seemed too nervous to eat. Eric had no such problems, but first courtesy.
“Mano po, Lola Rhea,” Eric said, bending and bringing her hand to his forehead. He smiled as K.C. did the same and hugged the old woman.
Matt stood near the stove, talking to T’monn Th’ron like this was an ordinary Tuesday and not the first day a hundred thousand aliens had landed in his yard. K.C. took him a cup of coffee and got a selfie with them both for her efforts. Maybe his daughter could be famous for becoming a personal assistant to an alien rather than infamous for her trumpet.
Eric took the wave from Pam as a movement order rather than a friendly hello and grabbed a cup of coffee on the way.
“Took you long enough,” Rayya laughed, reaching to shake the other man’s hand.
“I’m on Filipino time. Pam will explain that I am early.”
“I know what the apartment count looks like, but how many people can you absorb today?” Pam said, showing her stress levels by not commenting on Filipino time.
“Sixty singles or couples with no kids and forty families. I can likely do the same tomorrow and the next day, but we will be pretty close to full up,” Eric said, ruffling Alice’s hair as Pam’s twelve-year-old brought him a plate of brownies and topped up everyone else’s coffee.
“Alright, everyone,” Matt said, lifting himself to a sitting position on the counter so everyone could see him a bit better. “You are a hand-picked team, even you, K.C., because someone in this room believes in you, and that is enough for now. In a few moments, we are going to get our vaccines, and if any of you are concerned about rushing in where wiser people fear to tread, say so now. I won’t hold it against you. I will be getting the first dose.
“For the three of you who just worried about being caught up in a succession crisis if I die, you are covered. I do have an heir. For those of you who are just worried about me, I appreciate it, but trust starts somewhere, and today it starts here with me in my kitchen, the place where most of you learned to trust me.
“After vaccines, I am having lunch brought down, and you can have your questions answered by Pam, Dixie, and Rayya. Eric, you and K.C. are with me and Doctor Th’ron. We will be doing to the new language learning center Larry is helping to setup at the fire house. We have the translators for those we cannot schedule today, but I think you will all benefit from having a language just dumped into your brain at speed.”
