Date: May 25, 2440, 11:30 AM MTZ
Location: Denver, commercial broadcast studio
The studio lights blazed down from their tracks, white and clinical, flattening every color into something too bright, too polished. The walls were dressed in brushed metal panels and holographic overlays. The space was beautiful in its way, but soullessly commercial, like a hotel lobby repurposed for spectacle.
Camera crews moved with quiet efficiency in black polos and headsets. Most were studio hands, not Doug’s regular crew. A red tally light blinked alive on the center camera as the countdown hit zero.
Doug leaned forward at the sleek composite desk, smiling into the main camera.
“Welcome to the Doug Meyers Show. I am Doug Meyers, and today we are livestreaming from Denver. In studio with me are some very special guests, including a man I have nothing but personal respect for and a grudging friendship with, going all the way back to OCS: Matthew Marmaduke, High Lord of the V’ren, and his entourage.”
He chuckled.
“I gotta say, I always knew you would go far in the world, but this is a little overachieving even for you.”
The corner of Matt’s mouth lifted. He angled his chair slightly toward Doug, deliberately casual. A floor manager motioned for him to stay centered in the light.
“We would certainly be better friends if you weren’t such an asshole,” Matt said, letting the pause hang just long enough for the audience to tense. “I mean White Sox fan. You probably favor the Bears, too.”
The studio crew chuckled. Doug clutched his chest with mock injury.
“You wound me, but I can take it, since you’re the guy who pulled me out of razor wire while under fire.”
“You owed me a case of beer,” Matt said, brushing off the memory like it was nothing more than a scuffed boot.
“You’ve been in the ascendant lately, my friend. Did you come to tell me off too, or just make wisecracks about my Sox and da Bears?”
“I’m here to reward a long friendship, and to reward you for being a man of character and principle when being such things isn’t always easy. I want to introduce you, and your audience, to my wife, T’mari.”
He turned.
T’mari leaned forward gracefully, her green skin catching the sterile light and turning it into something softer, more alive.
Doug’s jaw visibly dropped. The camera caught the reaction and sent it out to tens of thousands of live viewers. In the booth, a producer mouthed, Mark it.
“Congratulations to both of you,” Doug managed, recovering quickly. “You look happier than I’ve seen you in a long time, my friend. I am glad for you both. You know who I am, and I don’t think you would have dropped that live grenade on us without expecting me to ask some tough questions.”
“Touché!” Matt grinned. “I also didn’t give you any chance to prepare to ask them, so let’s have it. I’ll let your slow brain catch up while I once again tell the world that we are on a Honeymoon vacation, not a ‘Save Our Planet’ crusade. We are also going to take some time to hit pre-scheduled events while visiting friends and family.
“The youth delegation is along to speak for themselves about what matters to them, and to let young people around the world mix with people who may be famous someday.”
Doug tapped the desk lightly, falling into his rhythm.
“I guess first is a matter of protocol. When you were first introduced to us, it was as Officer T’mari Th’ron, the junior communications officer of the ship that crashed in his backyard. Are you now High Lady of the V’ren?”
T’mari’s smile warmed the space, even against the harsh lights.
“The protocol people are having trouble deciding all of these things. For now, I am just happy being Mrs. Matthew Marmaduke. And for close personal friends, Cubs fans, and you, just T’mari.”
The audience in the chat feed lit up. Emojis and rapid commentary scrolled across Doug’s monitor.
“I watched the other interviews, along with most of the world,” Doug continued. “What was never really explained was how you learned English so fast.”
“When your beacon network went active about eighty years ago,” T’mari said, “it began dumping centuries’ worth of stored electronic media into the galaxy network. It was the equivalent of loading your entire back catalog into a brand-new streaming service. I fell in love with your game shows and cooking programs as a little girl. By then, our linguists had decoded English and several other languages too.
“Quite a number of people in our convoy have knowledge of one or more Earth languages. I just happened to be one of the ones able to put it to use.”
“So the V’ren have been studying us for eighty years?”
“Not just the V’ren.” She tilted her head. “You burst onto the scene as the first new Progenitor-guided species in over a hundred and fifty Earth years. Everyone who is anyone wanted to find out more.”
Doug’s brows furrowed.
“How many species are there?”
“There are over four hundred Progenitor species in this part of the galaxy alone. As for a total number, I couldn’t begin to guess.”
“You’re making a distinction between types of species. What is a Progenitor species?”
“Your biologists will have to expand your rigid definition of mammalian once you meet other species,” T’mari said. “But Progenitor species are mammalian, upright-walking bipeds shaped a lot like us, what you would call humanoid. Humans fall close to baseline in size, with the Kelari on the small end at barely over a meter and the Sikikil averaging just shy of three meters.
“The one thing we all have in common is that our worlds were seeded in their primordial states by the Progenitors, and later shaped through guided evolution.”
Doug turned to Matt.
“That sounds an awful lot like the old intelligent design theory. What do you think of it, Matt?”
Matt leaned back, folding his arms.
“It might, on the surface, sound like intelligent design, but the Progenitors, as far as I can tell, aren’t gods. We shouldn’t give them that status either. They seem to be gone from the galaxy, and we have to make the best choices we can based on our own understanding and our own goals.”
Doug nodded.
“Let’s bring us back around to goals. What exactly are your goals now?”
Matt tilted his head.
“I’m not trying to be evasive, but in what sense? What scope?”
“Fair enough. You wear a lot of hats, including a Cubs hat, which screams loser.”
The jab landed. Matt smiled thinly.
“I’ve always been a fan of the underdogs. A man of the people, not the corporate machine.”
“Not the corporate machine, ha. You started your first corporation during your first year of college and were called a ruthless tyrant even then.”
“Sure,” Matt said with a shrug. “But look at the people who said such things, slackers and grifters who thought they’d make their name riding my coattails. When that didn’t happen, they whined about it on the internet. Some even started popular podcasts.
“In the end, yes, I am an opportunistic businessman, as sharp as they come, despite Amazon blowing me off as a local yokel who would screw up our first interstellar contact.”
Doug’s mouth tightened.
“They didn’t consult me. I wonder if they even bothered to look up your known associates before passing judgment. Now, goals. What are you planning for all the land you masterfully swindled them out of, and for your V’ren on Earth Cooperative Trust?”
“These go hand in hand.” Matt rested his elbows on the desk. “I’ve long been expanding my holdings by revitalizing local farms. I saw a chance to expand on that and swung for the fences. I didn’t expect to slam it through the jumbotron on the way out of the park.
“By accepting the V’ren request to become their advocate in Sol System affairs, I accepted responsibility for their well-being, just as I would any client. I am turning over large parts of that land to them. It’s a good partnership.”
He reached for T’mari’s hand, lifted it, and pressed a kiss across her knuckles.
“One of those responsibilities is giving them room to grow into life on Earth and to show that they can contribute to the safety and security of their new home. We’ve started by increasing food production to be shared by all.
“One of my goals within the next ten years is to make beef affordable again, so that everyone in America can afford it once in a while. I don’t want it to be something only the super-rich or local yokels who live near a farm can eat.
“This fall we’ll be planting more grain than the region has planted since before the Collapse, and doing it by a factor of two every year for at least the next five years.”
Doug laughed.
“Impressive. Can’t wait until I’m not seen as a social elitist for enjoying a cheeseburger. Now, what about your real goals for the V’ren Cooperative?”
“They’re fluid,” Matt said honestly. “To be frank, it’s like that time you and I went fishing for flounder on R&R and hooked that four-meter shark. It’s fun, but you wonder what the hell you’re going to do with it when you land it.”
“That was a good day,” Doug chuckled, “but a shitty answer.”
“Like I said, the goals are fluid, and they keep growing as I understand the context of what I have in front of me. Like you, I normally believe in slow growth and slower change, but I’m not about to squander this opportunity by standing still out of fear.
“If you want one real goal, it’s this: get everyone off those ships who wants off and into a home of their own before the first snow.
“With that said, we have to face a new reality. As humans, we are not alone in the galaxy, much less on this world now. I will do my best to help both sides fit curvy puzzle pieces together without knowing what the final picture looks like.”
Doug leaned back, studying him.
“That is about as authentically you as it gets. Let’s change gears. Is your marriage a strategic alliance?”
The question was gentle but pointed.
Doug had known Amy. He asked with respect.
The studio quieted.
Matt glanced down at T’mari’s hand, still in his, his thumb running slowly across her knuckles.
“Of course it is. But that’s an afterthought. I met T’mari, and within a day I knew she could fill a hole in my heart I had never been able to fill, a hole I’d clung to as penance for not preventing Amy’s death.”
T’mari turned her hand in his and clasped his fingers.
“I know I’m not Amy. Some people have told me I’m not a proper replacement. I tell them I am not trying to be her or replace her.
“But there are things about V’ren culture that will take time for humans to understand. When they do, they’ll see why, or at least how, our relationship came about so fast.
“Right now, I accept that people have concerns, both valid and invalid. I fell for Matt almost instantly. He is charming, warm, accepting, easy to be with. I felt a spark, and as you say, I swung for the fences and hit my home run.”
“Let’s move to viewer Q&A,” Doug said.
The live questions deck appeared on his monitor as the chat gutter flared with hearts and question icons.
“For T’mari: You spoke about not replacing Amy. How do you balance honoring Matt’s past with building your own future together?”
T’mari adjusted her IFB.
“I just try to be myself and let things fall where they will. Most of the people around us have been very accepting and are letting us grow into things. It is honestly harder dealing with the V’ren around me than the humans.”
Doug moved to the next question.
“For Matt: You often mention Amy when discussing personal loss. How did you know you were ready to open your heart again?”
“I didn’t, until the moment I did. As Doug knows, since he was there when I met Amy, I met and married her in three days because I knew in my heart it was the right thing for me and for us. Same thing here.”
“For T’mari: What is one part of V’ren culture you think humans most need to understand?”
“We come from a caste-based culture. This is already causing some issues for us, more than it is for humans.
“Those of us who work in professional circles do all right because we are used to dealing across caste lines with each other. Those from the lower castes seem to have more trouble believing in your egalitarian nature. Sadly, they don’t quite trust it yet, and some seem almost frightened when they come into direct contact with humans in positions of authority or power, or people they perceive as socially superior.
“I think it is up to the highborn V’ren to help them here, and to give up some of the social superiority we carry with us. We are now the V’ren of Earth, and the caste system we come from doesn’t apply here.
“People must be accepted and treated as equals.”
A producer in the booth immediately flagged the answer for clipping.
“For Matt: You talk about responsibility for both the Freehold and the V’ren. How do you separate what’s personal from what’s political?”
“There is no separation for me. I have been sovereign ruler of my own country since I was thirteen years old. Everything I do is viewed through a political lens by someone.”
The live comment counter spiked.
“For T’mari: What was the first human thing about Matt that surprised you, or made you fall for him?”
“He took the time to cook for me my first night here. He didn’t just cook for me, he explained the food to me.
“He also talked about the people in his family. He let me know who and what was important to him. He shared his joy and his pain. I knew this was a man I wanted in my life even before I knew it was possible.”
“For Matt: Do you think your marriage helps strengthen human-V’ren trust, or do you worry it invites criticism you don’t need?”
“The only public critics will be human. I have handled racists and bigots before. This time will be no different.
“In fact, we have already had some of those critics. I had to invoke the good-governance clause, which resulted in the death of someone who resisted arrest by Apple Security. That brought out more criticism.”
A brief silence settled over the studio before Doug continued.
“For T’mari: You said you felt a spark instantly. Was that something V’ren culture would normally embrace, or is this unusual even among your people?”
“This was different in so many ways. Even though I thought I was familiar with human culture, I certainly had no idea I could feel the things I felt so quickly or so strongly.
“This is not how highborn V’ren women react to potential mates on the home world.”
“For both of you: How do you handle the scrutiny of building a relationship in public, with so much riding on appearances?”
Matt shifted and lifted T’mari’s fingertips toward his lips.
“My life has never really been private. My audience is just larger now. I have the world watching. So when I do this,” he said, kissing her fingertips, “everyone takes notice. There will be articles about that before dinner.”
A chorus of hearts scrolled through the live feed.
T’mari smiled.
“He is certainly setting a new standard for V’ren men.”
Doug grinned and went to the next question.
“For Matt: What do you say to those who call your marriage a strategic move rather than a personal one?”
“That was going to be inevitable no matter who I married, or even if I ever married again.”
“And for T’mari: You used the baseball metaphor, swinging for the fences. How much of Matt’s culture have you already adopted as your own?”
“It doesn’t go just one way. I grew up watching different Earth media and listening to lots of non-human music. We have been sharing a lot. He learns our sagas as readily as I am learning Gilbert and Sullivan.
“Baseball, though, is a big part of Freehold life, and I am taken with the passion people bring to playing it and the way the fans enjoy it. In a few weeks, I am looking forward to seeing some professional games in person.”
Doug let the moment breathe.
Ninety minutes had passed before he finally wrapped the interview and extended his hand across the desk.
“I want to thank you, Matt. It means a lot that you chose me for this.”
“That’s what friends are for,” Matt said, his tone genuine. “We’ll hit you up in Chicago for a follow-up on the return leg of our trip.”
The cameras went dark. The red tally lights faded.
Off-air, Doug leaned closer.
“Where else are you headed?”
“Near term?” Matt leaned back, his smile thin but real. “We’re headed back to Estes Park. She’s never seen snow. And I want to make a stop at Wounded Knee before we hit the Theresa Rodriguez quinceañera.”
Around them, the studio staff began breaking down the set for whatever came next. Camera rigs rolled back, the harsh white lights dimmed, and a janitor swept in as if nothing monumental had been spoken.
The interview was over, but the weight of it would carry far beyond the bland walls of a rented Denver studio.
