Under the Texan Sun

"I thought I'd find you here."

         I turned my head in the direction of the familiar voice, and blinked twice before recognition fully set in. The tall man shuffled to the next stool and propped his elbows on the counter. "Coffee, please," he asked the waitress.

         "Sure thing, gorgeous," Marie said enthusiastically. He gave the rotund woman his most winsome smile.

         "What are you doing here?" I asked.

         He sighed. "Haven't changed much, have you?"

         I regarded my brother's attire-- black denim button-down shirt, chaps over blue jeans, boots with metal spurs, and the almost-too-large black cowboy hat. He looked like he'd just stepped out of a spaghetti western film. "Not everyone in Texas dresses like that, you know."

         He beamed. "I think I look great."

         I quickly looked around the cafe. There was an old couple in the back booth sharing a heaping plate of pancakes; a teenager sat toward the front, with a couple of textbooks splayed across her table, bobbing her head, white wires dangling from her ears-- the place, thankfully, was relatively empty. And normal. Just the way I like it. Marie poured my brother a heaping cup of coffee, offered what she would consider a sexy wink, and walked away.

         He lifted the cup to his lips and winced. "This smells as nasty as I remember. Nothing will ever come close to plach, don't you agree?"

         "What do you want?" I asked, tired of the pleasantries.

         "You need to come home, Vakar,"

         "Jesse," I corrected him.

         "You're Vakar to me."

         "I'm not going back, Keem."

         "You have to."

         "Why?"

         "Father's dead."

         I paused for a moment, letting the words settle. "That doesn't concern me."

         "Like Thanus, it doesn't!" Keem said, a little too loudly. "You need to take over his seat in the Council. You owe them that. You owe it to our family."

         I shook my head, half-smiling. "The seat. That's all you care about."

         "Don't you start with me," he huffed, turning to face forward, his fingers subconsciously grasping the mug of coffee he would never drink. "You cared less about father than I did. And I had every right to despise him."

         He's right, I thought. Although Keem was the eldest son, Father had always treated me with higher regard, instructing me in the ways of the Council with the intention that I might replace him one day. And even though Keem managed to thrive in the middle level of the Council on his own merits, my father was still unimpressed. I often felt sorry for my older brother. Keem's mother was my father's first wife, Yula, who died during childbirth. Father loved Yula, and, as unfair as it may seem, he would always look at Keem as the one who robbed him of something so precious.

         I swirled my fork around the breakfast potatoes on my plate. "You can have the seat."

         "It doesn't work that way."

         "I don't want it."

         Keem grabbed my arm and turned me to face him. The fork flew out of my hand and dropped to the floor. The sound made Marie look up from her Classifieds.

         "You have no choice," he said, his eyes wide with anger. "I'm not going back empty-handed."

         "Honey?"

         I looked up to see Helen standing by the cafe door with Ariela in tow, concern painted on her face. Keem looked at Helen, released my arm and turned his stool to face the counter.

         Ariela broke free from her mother's safe grip, and ran toward me. "Daddy! Daddy!"

         I stood to meet my daughter's rush, and lifted her to my face, planting her a kiss. "Hi, sweetie."

         "Mommy let me ride a pony!"

         "That's nice, sweetie."

         Helen walked up to me, and gave me a light peck. Her presence calmed me. "Is everything alright?" she asked, frowning at Keem, who would not meet her gaze.

         "Yes," I said, kissing her forehead, "Everything's fine. We were just having a little disagreement."

         "Who is he?" she asked.

         "He's--"

         "--just leaving," Keem said, rising. He tipped his hat to us, and walked toward the door.

         Marie cleared her throat. "Uh-uh-uh. Aren't you forgetting something, gorgeous?" she said to Keem, holding out an open palm. "That'd be a dollar."

         Keem shot her a look of momentary confusion, and then looked at me. "He'll pay for my terrible drink."

         "The nerve," Marie said, as my brother exited the cafe.

         I realized that Helen was looking at me. "What was that all about?" she asked.

         "Nothing," I said, turning to my daughter and smiling at her. "Nothing at all."


The tall man entered the clearing and looked around. He retrieved a slim metal device from his back pocket and pressed its center. A sparkling mist formed a few inches from the top of the device and coalesced into a translucent square. An image of an elderly man with a white hood appeared in the middle of the square. "Report," the older man said simply.

         "Mission successful," Keem said, squinting at the Texan sun.

         "Excellent," the older man on the viewscreen said unemotionally. "We will commence our attack on the Council as planned. Good work."

         "Don't forget your promise to me," Keem said.

         The older man grinned. "We won't forget, Imam-mo Keem. The newly improved Council's head seat will be yours as promised. As long as you cooperate with us."

         Keem smiled. "Good," he looked around and frowned. How revolting! he thought, and longed for the rocky landscape of his homeworld. He briefly thought about his younger brother, then immediately brushed his image away. To him, Vakar is finally dead. "I'm coming home."


Winner* of 04/19/08 Prompt for "The Writer's Cramp" 
Prompt: Write a story or poem about a visit from a relative from outer space. The visitor can be an alien or a human that moved off of earth a while back, your choice!
Word Count: 962


* It was the sole entry for that round. Hehe.