Last week, I discovered, two of my short stories are “stowaways” on the Writers on the Moon project.

My stories are going in two different anthologies. Hellcats, The Anthology, is still in Kindle Unlimted, so I can't share Sashelle's Quest. But First Contract was in book 6 of the Beyond the Stars anthology. There are some amazing stories in that book, so it's well worth the purchase price.

However, since it's no longer in Kindle Unlimited, the rights to my story have reverted to me, and I want to share it with you. It's a crazy little story about Earth, aliens, and good Portland coffee. Kind of. 

Here's the first part:

Chin in hand, I stifle a yawn and try to look fascinated by what the man across the table is saying. As he drones on, he taps on the table, driving home some arcane point. My mind wanders, and I wonder if his eyes are naturally green, or if he’s wearing contacts. Good thing he’s attractive, because he certainly isn’t interesting. My phone, lying on the table, vibrates in the unmistakable SOS pattern. I grab it and look at the screen.

“Sorry,” I say, when Eddie finally stops talking. I push my chair away from the table. “Family emergency. I’ll be back.” Without waiting for a reply, I hurry across the room and out the door. Leaning against a wall, I press the call-back button.

“Oh, good, Sarina, I was afraid you’d be at work.” My brother Alton answers on the first ring. “Wait, why aren’t you at work?”

“I am,” I reply. “Most boring staff meeting, ever. Thanks for the excuse. Now, what’s up?”

“Okay, Rina, listen. Remember when I told you about the data guardalumph I was working on?” He sounds so intense—I can’t bear to tell him I don’t understand the gibberish he’s spouting. Alton works for a company that handles information for big data companies. They contract with the social media giants, insurance companies, and the FAA. I don’t understand most of his work.

“Let’s say I don’t.” I walk to the lobby of Simmons and Blake, the PR firm where I work. Floor to ceiling windows give me a fantastic view of the pouring rain. If I stand on my tippy toes, I can catch a glimpse of the Willamette River. Far below, bikes, pedestrians and scooters dart through the street between busses, cars and MAX trains.

Alt continues as if I’d said yes. “I needed a huge amount of data for my tests, so I spent a few days downloading a bunch of stuff from the public SETI sites. You know, Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence. They collect masses of data.”

I nod. He can’t see it but he won’t give me a chance to respond, anyway.

“I loaded all this noise onto my test server and added my own data. I needed to make sure the system would identify patterns in the noise.” He pauses.

When he doesn’t continue, I prompt him. “Sure, that makes sense. So, what’s the problem?”

“I found a pattern.” His voice cracks.

“That’s great,” I say, always the supportive little sister. “That means your program worked, right?”

“Yeah, it worked. But it didn’t just find the pattern I loaded. It found another one.”

“Okay,” I say. “Why is that a problem?”

“Rina, this is data from distant stars, and I found another pattern. I think I’ve found proof of extra-terrestrial life.”

For long seconds, the words ring in my ears.

Then I laugh. “Good one, Alt! You really had me going!”

“No.” Alt’s voice sounds strangled. “Seriously. I think I’ve discovered aliens.”

* * *

When I return to the conference room, the meeting is breaking up. My coworkers stream out, giving me inquisitive looks, but no one stops to chat. Sonia rolls her eyes, and I grin.

“Sarina, is everything all right?” Eddie, my boss, asks. He disconnects his laptop from the projection system and closes it.

“Oh, yeah, it was just Alt,” I reply. Alt has become a bit of a legend in my office. Sarina’s crazy brother. “I had to talk him down, but he’s fine.”

Eddie nods. “Great. We can’t really afford for you to take any time off this month. That project isn’t going to finish itself.” He laughs on his way out.

“It might if you actually did some work,” I mutter under my breath. I grab my notepad and follow Eddie.

* * *

“Sarina, this is Steve Rogers, from MultiTech,” Eddie says a few days later. “He’s here for an update on the project.”

I shake hands with Rogers, resisting the urge to introduce myself as Natasha Romanoff. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Rogers. Could you excuse us for just a minute? I need to consult Mr. Simmons on another project. We’ll be right back.” Without waiting for a reply, I grab Eddie’s arm and hustle him out of the room.

“What the heck, Eddie?” I whisper as soon as the door shuts. “The project update isn’t scheduled until next week! And it’s supposed to be online, not in person. I’m not ready for this.”

“Pull it together, Sarina,” Eddie says. “Rogers just showed up this morning, asking for an update. You need to show him we’re on schedule.”

I narrow my eyes. “If he ‘just showed up,’ why are you wearing a tie?” Normal attire in our office is jeans and t-shirts. Maybe the occasional sweater. We only dress up for client presentations.

Eddie fiddles with his tie pin. “I have another appointment today.”

“Really?” I fold my arms across my chest. “An appointment that requires a tie? Did someone die?”

“Okay, look. He called yesterday and said he was in town and wanted to come in and see what we’re up to. I couldn’t say no.” He gives me his blindingly white, perfectly even smile.

I’m unimpressed. “Yes, you could have. You could have told him we’re on schedule and will be ready to present next week. Or you could have called me and given me a heads up. Now I have to fix this.”

I tug on the hem of my pink polo, but the wrinkles defy me. At least my jeans are clean. I open the door and stride in. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Rogers.” I smile and sit down across the table from him.

Rogers smiles back. His teeth are even, but not blue-white like Eddie’s, and his smile is crooked. “Call me Steve.”

I nod. “I wish I’d known you were coming today, Steve,” I glare at Eddie, “but I must have missed the memo. We’re on schedule— “

Rogers hold up a hand. “I’m not here for an update. I’m new to this project, and since I was in Portland, I wanted to stop by and meet you. Just a friendly hello.”

“Hello,” I say, watching him carefully. Most of our work is done remotely—this is the first time I’ve had a client drop in unannounced.

He smiles at me and turns to Eddie. “I’d like to borrow Sarina for a couple hours, if you don’t mind. I like to get to know my project managers. Let’s go for a walk, shall we? I think best when I’m moving.”

“I’ve got some things scheduled for this morning,” I say, hedging.

Eddie smiles and shoos me with his hands. “You can reschedule them, Sarina. Take all the time you need.”

I glare at Eddie again, but he makes another shooing motion. “Give me a few minutes to make some calls,” I say.

Rogers nods and settles back in his chair. “I’ll be here.”

I scurry to my desk, open my calendar, and send an email to reschedule my team meeting. I don’t know why Eddie is so anxious to have me schmooze this guy, but MultiTech is one of our biggest clients, so I’ll do what’s necessary. I grab my jacket and stick my head in Sonia’s door. “I might have to blow off lunch today. A client showed up out of the blue.”

She points to her ear—she’s on a call. “I really think recruiting should be our top priority. A culinary school with no students is just a big kitchen.” She digs through a drawer and tosses something to me.

I catch it. Breath mints. I roll my eyes. “Very funny.”

She grins and gives me a thumbs up.

***

When we reach the street, the sun is shining, glinting off the wet sidewalks. I lead the way to the Park blocks—a block wide strip of trees and grass running between Portland State University and the heart of downtown. It’s frequently crowded with students, protestors, or the homeless, but today it’s quiet.

He scans the street around us then says, “I’m not from MultiTech.” He’s shivering, even though it’s fifty-five degrees.

 “What?” I pull my mace from my jacket pocket. “I’m not afraid to use this.”

 “I’m not going to hurt you.” He holds up his hands. “Look, I’ll buy you coffee. And we’ll sit down and talk.”

“Mr. Rogers, or whatever your name is, I have work to do. If this discussion isn’t work related, then I need to get back to my office. You have five seconds to tell me what you want before I go.” I hold the mace up. “Or, I could give you a snootful of this.”

“Look, this is about your brother, Alton James. I’m from SETI.”

“What?”

He hands me a card. It reads SETI INSTITUTE, complete with his name, a phone number, email address and website. “We’ve been trying to reach him, but he isn’t responding. One of our, er, people went out to Colorado, but he wasn’t there.”

“What do you mean, he wasn’t there?” I yank my phone out of my pocket and text Alt.

“He’s not replying,” I tell Rogers. I knew I should have put that tracking app on Alt’s phone.

“He wasn’t at work this morning. Hasn’t been to his apartment since Monday.” Rogers says. “I’m freezing. Can we please go get a cup of coffee?” His lips are blue and his teeth are chattering.

“Okay, but I pick the seats.” We get our coffee and sit at a table by the windows.

“I haven’t decided if I believe you, Mr. Rogers, but suppose you really are from SETI. Why are you looking for my brother?”

Rogers chugs his ultra-creamy, half-caf mochachito, or whatever it is, and the color starts to return to his face. “Your brother contacted you last week, right? About the data?”

“Yes, he called me. Said he’d used some SETI data to test his newest program and swore up and down that he’d discovered aliens.” I try to laugh, but it gets stuck in my throat. “Don’t tell me he actually discovered aliens.”

Rogers laughs, too. It sounds brittle and forced. “Don’t be ridiculous. Aliens don’t really exist.”

“You work for SETI. Isn’t that a conflict of interest or a self-proving conviction?”

He ignores me.

I give him the stinkeye. “Stop stalling and tell me what’s going on.”

His blue eyes bore into my own and I am unable to look away. “I need to talk to Alton. The data he discovered can’t fall into the wrong hands. All will be lost!”

His theatrics do the trick. “Really, Mr. Rogers? Did Alt put you up to this prank? Is he here?”

“I don’t know where your brother is,” Rogers says. “And please, call me Steve. I need your help to find him. He won’t respond to my texts or calls.”

“Let me try again.” I tap in the message, but there’s no response. I hold it up for Rogers to see. “Sorry.”

“Could you come to Colorado with me? Help me locate him?

“Sure, I’ll just let Eddie know I’m taking the rest of the week off, shall I?” I roll my eyes and take another sip of my coffee. “Thanks for the drink, but I think it’s time I head back to work.”

But Rogers isn’t listening—he’s got his own phone to his ear. “Mr. Simmons, please. This is Steve Rogers from Multi-tech. Yes, I’ll hold.”

“What are you doing?” I reach for his phone, but he turns away from me.

“I’ve just spoken to the head office, and we’d like to have Ms. James come out to headquarters and give a presentation. Today, if possible. We’ll take care of the arrangements. Great. Sure, just a minute.” He turns to me. “He wants to talk to you.”

 “I don’t think—”

But Eddie cuts me off. “I don’t want to hear it, Sarina. This is obviously important to Multi-tech, so get going.”

“But Rogers isn’t—”

“You can have tomorrow off. Just keep the client happy.”

Here's a link to part two.