Building a new life, from scratch is our business but we at the agency have our work cut out for us sometimes. Take the time that little fugitive from Alpha Centauri was delivered to us …
She was a cute little thing, could have been twenty universal standard years old and had a lovely pale green complexion, soft yellow eyes and her long brown hair. She also had a great singing voice and had used it often to make a name for herself so of course she wanted to ply her trade. Problem was, she’d sung out loud and clear about the Triade, a potent gang of contrabanders that had the habit of killing people who sang the wrong tune, and secondly, she had four arms.
We gave it everything we had, but it wasn’t enough. We were able to finally find a way to hide those extra arms and of course, complexion was no problem at all. The real problem turned out to be her voice. It was hypnotically sensual. She became known as Melany Jackson. She had a really special timber that was really difficult to ignore at a subliminal level. Over the months she became so popular that her music took over the top ten charts and her public appearances were all one long rave party with people getting out of hand. A lot of kids were born that year.
It wasn’t the Triade that got her in the end. They barely even know we exist out here in the backwaters of the galaxy, no, it was an irate mother.
Melany was doing a Summer Solstice fest out at the Stonehenge for a group of neo-druids when suddenly a shot rang out. Of course, there had been guards on hand with monitoring devices to make sure none of the “outers” could get to her, one never knows with the Triade, but no one thought to look for rifles!
The woman, who was immediately apprehended by the druids, just stood there in a trance of sorts holding that damned rifle. When she was taken to headquarters she finally began to talk. She’d decided that the world would be a better place “without all them goings on”, her words. Seems she had three daughters who’d gone to a concert during the spring and each had come home with a little package, and didn’t know where they’d gotten it. People in the neighborhood began to talk.
She’d did a little research on the problem and discovered that there was something peculiar about our singer’s voice. She went to a concert, with wax in her ears, having experienced the effects of the music at home. She observed and then made plans.
So Melany Jackson got blown away. We had a lot of hassle with Intergalactic Pol and Mrs.Thomas’ family grew with an addition of a son for her and three granddaughters. We gave them a new life of course. I think they now live somewhere near Orion’s Belt.
Written for Speakeasy #165