Thera

The hallway Meda stands in is stark white with bright overhead lights beaming down on her. Blinking away tears, Meda’s eyes adjust. She’s at a dead end of a short hallway, more like an alcove.

Looking behind her, she sees a painting taking up most of the back wall. It’s so well done its could be a picture but further inspection shows some brush strokes. The painting depicts a beautiful clearing with trees in the background and a yellow sun peaking over the canopy. Meda realizes it’s the exact place she just came from. The thought is mind-blowing but creepy.

Turning back around, Meda sees people bustling through a busy thoroughfare; no one is taking notice of her quiet hallway. Walking into the archway, Meda looks around. The large domed room looks like a main plaza (Think Grand Central) with hallways in every direction. Like an airport terminal, small groups of people or individuals weave their way through the crowd to reach their real destination, which is probably another painting like the clearing. Without hesitation, Meda enters the throng.

Her instructions are to report to the emigration office but Meda can’t help but explore. She walks around looking down different hallway, each with different names and symbols over the archway. She recognizes a few next to hers like Manhattan and London but once the names become too foreign, her attention moves to the people.

Most look normal, and by that human. Others not so much.

While walking, Meda sees a small pink light fluttering towards her in the crowd. Meda stops and squints at the anomaly. Once the light is close enough, Meda sees that is not a light but a woman no bigger than the size of a thumb with pink iridescent wings. What Meda mistook for light is the radiation from the woman ever-beating wings.

Memorized by the fanciful creature, Meda stares trying to see the woman face and other features when a man steps around her. The man is in a well-made suit and looks like he is talking to himself. As he passes the winged woman, he bats his hand at her like, well, like she is a bug saying “Damn Pixies!”

His hand didn’t hit the pixie but the air from the gesture throws the pixies to the side.

The pixie replies in a high pitch voice, which is more like squeaking, that seems to be a foreign language. By her gestures though, Meda doesn’t have to listen to understand their meaning.

After watching the pixie fly down a hallway without further incident, a hand grabs Meda by the upper arms.

She spins around to face an angry man in a gray guard uniform. The man is tall; all five foot four of Meda just reaches his chest. Looking up at his face, Meda notices he couldn't be much older than her but the scowl he gives her made him look at lot older. His skin is tan like he worked in the sun most of his life and not in these windowless terminals. His light blond hair is so short it is practically non-existent.

His hazel eyes would have attractive if they didn't look like he secretly enjoyed seeing others in pain. The pinching grip on Meda's arm is proof enough that he did. As Meda squirms, the corner of his mouth lifts into a mischief smirk.

"What do we have here?"

Before Meda could answer, he continues.

"Lost little Earthling." He says Earthling like it's a disease and winces with disgust. He yanks her to the side out of the crowd.

"Let me guess, fell down a rabbit hole?" He laughs at his own joke.

Meda raises one eyebrow in confusion.

"That excuse has already been used, and she was much younger than you."

Tired of his banter, Meda squares her shoulder.

"I actually walked through one of your windows."

The guard looks stunned for a moment at the usage of their word for crossing portal but quickly recovers. He jerks her to him.

“How do you know that?”

Their faces are close together to the point where Meda can smell his hot breath. Fortunately, it doesn’t smell. Still she struggles not to shudder.

Taking a breath to control her voice, Meda stares down the bully guard.

“I’m here on Alliance business. I demand to see the Ambassador.”

Her fake confidence must have been convincing cause the shocked look returns to that guards face. He drops her arm. The expression turns to one of concern.

“Alliance business.” He clears his throat. “Well, then. This way.”

Meda sags a little in relief until the guard grabs her arm again. She stiffens thinking he doesn’t believe her. But this time his hand is lower holding her elbow and gentler. With the other hand, he seizes Meda’s bag and shoulders it.

He leads her through the plaza dodging the hurrying travelers. Once across, he stirs her down a quiet hallway with no name over the archway. This hallway only has a few people milling about with no real destination.

Looking behind them, Meda wonders if they are moving away from the crowd so he can abuse her again without notice but notices his occasional glances towards her are mixed with curiosity and a bit of fear.

They turn down another hallway. Completely different from the others, the walls are lined with metal doors every few feet. It looks more like offices than the terminal they just left.

At the fourth door, the guard stops releasing Meda before pressing his hand under a keypad. A small red light blinks green and a woman’s voice answers.

“Yes, Officer?” The voice is stern, if not a little annoyed.

He replies in some sort security code giving Meda a side-glance. The door makes a clicking sound as the metal disappears. Beyond the door looks dark.

Dumping the bag at Meda’s feet, the guard gestures for her to go in with a sarcastic “Good luck”.

Meda slowly enter the office. The doorway must have concealed the light from outside cause the same bright overhead lights shine. The room also has the same white walls with no windows. If it weren’t for the brightness, the entire place would like some underground prison.

On the far side of room, a short petit woman rises from her chair behind a large metallic desk. The desk has the same sheen the pathway in the park did back home.

The woman looks like a school librarian, and not the sexy kind. Her mousy brown hair is tied in a bun so tightly it would make Meda eyes water. Her light skin has few wrinkles but her dark deep-seated eyes behind dark-framed glasses really show her age to be around sixty.

Her thin lips almost disappear completely while she studies Meda.

“So you want an audience with the Ambassador.”

Knowing exactly what to say, Meda steels herself standing straighter.

“Yes, I request recognition.”

The statement is the official code for all visitors to get a visa of some kind. Tahl and Deirdre had both made her memorize the four simple words and how to say them correctly for this occasion.

Still skeptical, the woman nod and point to a metal chair in front of her desk. Meda tosses the bag to the side and sits.

“We’ll see” is all she says.

The woman sits down and starts typing away on an invisible keyboard on her desk. She frequently looks up giving Meda a sneer.

After a few minutes of silent typing, a humming noise feels the room. Meda looks around seeing that the desk is slightly vibrating. Unfazed the woman hits a blue light on the side of her desk.

Sudden the lights dim and a translucent man stands on the side of the desk. Meda sits on the edge of her chair. With his back to Meda, she can’t make out any of his feature and the glow makes everything colorless. He’s tall and even see-through has a regal air to him. Wiggling around, she tries to find any discerning markers that this could be her father.

He bobs his head toward Meda without looking at her.

“Take me off hologram.” He demands.

His voice is young like a kid playing dictator. Meda leans back in the chair.

The woman glares at the hologram obviously not liking be commanded. With a huff, she presses the light again and it turns purple.

Meda vaguely listens to the one side conversation only getting bits of information. Finally after a strained but heated debate, the woman bangs the now purple button and it disappears. Meda didn’t hear any sort of farewell and wonders if she hung up on the younger man. The speculation evaporates as the woman’s glare fall on her.

“Request granted.” She spits out like venom.

She rises again walking around the desk and towards the door. As she approaches the door, it vanishes and she walks out not looking to she if Meda follows. Meda grabs her bag and follows.

The woman waits outside the doorway. When Meda walks out, the door reappears with another clicking sound.

The woman turns and strides down the hall. Meda trails a few feet behind not wanting to be any closer to the woman than she has to without losing her.

She stops at the end of the hallway in front of another metal door. The side panel has the waist high keypad and an eye-level hole. The woman places her hand in the keypad like the guard did but then leans in.

“Croatan.” The woman says in a calm yet firm voice.

Before Meda can’t question the word, the door vanishes and the woman ushers her inside. The inside is again different from another so far. There’s a metal bed in the middle, like those in an operating room, with metal devices littered around the room.

The woman stands next to the bed.

“Sit!” She commands.

Meda steps back, her bag bumping into the now present door. She shakes her head.

“I don’t think so.”

“It’s required. We can’t have some Earthling wondering around unmonitored.” She snaps. She says the word Earthling with the same disgust as the guard.

Meda crosses her arms over her chest and shakes her head again.

“I did not sign up for this.” She mumbles to herself.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Seeing Meda’s fear, the woman softens a tad.

“It won’t hurt.”

Meda rolls her eyes. The woman’s soft tone fades, replaces with indifference.

“This is the only way you are leaving here.” She pauses. “Well, this or expunction. And that hurts.”

Knowing she has no real choice, Meda walks to the metal bed dropping her bag again.

“Fine.”

She sits on the cold, hard surface stiff as a board. The woman grabs a device that resembles a hole punch and reaches for Meda’s left hand. Meda pulls back her left hand clutching it to her chest.

“That thing is not touching me.” She nearly yells.

The woman rolls her eyes.

“Of course not. That would be unsanitary. It will just hover around the skin.”

The woman lifts her own left hand showing it to Meda.

“It’s an identification stamp coded into the skin.

Looking at the woman’s outstretched hand, Meda can make a bluish symbol between the woman’s thumb and first finger. The woman continues.

“It carries your zone access and tracker.”

“Tracker?”

“A trace signal in case the government needs to monitor you. Like I said, we can’t have people wondering around.”

Baffled by the woman’s conviction, Meda holds out her left hand. The woman slides Meda’s hand into the device’s opening. Closing her eyes, Meda waits expecting pain. After a slight pinch, the woman removes the stamping device and places it on the table.

Opening her eyes, Meda stare at the green symbol on her hand. It’s same but intricate like a miniature tattoo.

The woman walks back with another device. She moves to right of the bed.

“Green. You have elite access.” She says surprised.

Now looking at the new device in the woman hands, Meda scoots away. This device looks like a metallic stun gun or some kind of weapon from Star Trek.

“Not this again.” The woman huffs.

She holds up the device.

“This is for your communicator. It goes into your earlobe so you can talk to people how are not near you.”

She explains like she is talking to a child.

“Oh, like Bluetooth?” Meda remarks.

“I have no idea what that is but sure.” She says obviously tired of dealing a Meda’s ignorance.

Meda scoots to the end of the bed. Like the stamp device, the woman slide Meda’s earlobe into the device. It reminds Meda of when she got her ears pierced at Maddie’s house. Then her mother saw them, and she took them out immediately.

Like before, Meda feels a slight pinch, nothing close to the ear piercing, and it was over.

The woman returns to the table with the device. She turns to Meda. Pulling her ear with her right hand, she says.

“Testing? Testing?”

Meda’s head jerks to the side as her own hand goes to her ear.

“Whoa. Reverb, much.”

Rolling her eyes, the woman says. “That’s it. Let’s go.”

Meda follows the woman out of the operating room. The door appears with a click. They silently walk down the deserted hallways taking too many turns for Meda to keep up. They avoid the plaza and didn't pass anyone while walking.

The woman stops at a door different from the others. It's metal but rectangular, not curved. She presses a red light that blinks green under her touch.

"Wait at the curb. Ambassador Tower is your destination."

Meda raise an eyebrow in confusion at her instructions. The door swings open. The light outside is bright but softer than the building's.

"Welcome to Thera." The woman's voice sounds bored.