Alien Proliferation

left. “I’d like a few minutes in private with the Commander,” Chuckie said to the brothers.
    They both shrugged and left the room, closing the door behind them. I raised my eyebrow at Chuckie. “What’s up?”
    He took off his overcoat, and I noted that he was dressed as if he were an A-C—black Armani suit and tie, crisp white shirt. Chuckie was amazingly good at adaptation, which was undoubtedly a reason he was in the position he was in.
    He pulled out a wrapped package from the inner coat pocket. “I wanted to give you your Christmas present in private.”
    Guilt, always on standby when Chuckie and I were alone, leaped to the forefront of my brain. I had no gift for Chuckie. As I thought of it, I had no gift for anyone. As the daughter of a Jewish father and a former-Catholic and also former-Mossad mother, we didn’t really celebrate the December holidays so much as sort of wave as they went by. But my friends celebrated.
    Chuckie had always given me something at Christmas, usually something small and extremely thoughtful. I’d always given him something, too, at least when we were in school. As we’d gotten older, I was more sporadic. He wasn’t.
    “I—”
    “Don’t have anything for me,” he said with a grin. “I know. You’re very pregnant, and it’s not as if your husband would want to shop for you in this case.” He kissed my forehead. “I don’t care. Please, open it.”
    This package was rectangular and felt like a book of some kind. I kicked Guilt away for a while and did as requested. It was a leather photo album, well worn. I opened it up—there were pictures of me in it, pretty much exclusively. From ninth grade up through just a couple of years ago. In fact, right up until I’d met the gang from Alpha Centauri.
    “I don’t get it.” My brain and mouth so rarely worked together. One day, I’d do something about that, but pregnancy had, among its other joys, made me an almost complete space cadet, and not the kind with genius-level IQ.
    Chuckie sat down on the bed next to me. “I know. I took all of these shots of you over the years.”
    “I figured. Still have no clue why you’re giving me this.”
    “It’s also a baby present.”
    “Um, excuse me? My impression is that you give babies diapers and cute little outfits, not pictures they can’t comprehend.” Dread over impending, as-yet un-registered-for baby showers loomed. I kicked Dread over with Guilt and went back to paying attention to Chuckie.
    He sighed. “Your child will want to know what your life was like before you met his or her father. I have pictures your parents and other friends don’t. So, these are my memories of you. I doubt your husband’s going to allow me to share them with your child. But if I give this to you, then I can, even if I’m not doing it personally.”
    My throat felt very tight. “Oh.” I looked at the pictures more carefully. Yes, there I was, in all my awkward teenaged and young adult glory. Chuckie had been a great photographer, though he’d rarely allowed his picture to be taken. “You’re not in any of these.”
    “Can’t put anything past you.”
    “When did you know there were aliens who could read people through their pictures?”
    “Not as long as my aversion to being photographed would lead you to believe.” He sighed again. “I wasn’t an attractive kid, Kitty. Why have extra photographic proof?”
    “You were better than you want to give yourself credit for. And you were hot from college on.”
    Chuckie laughed. “Nice to know. Anyway, this is for you and your child. Martini will, I’m sure, not appreciate this.”
    “There’s nothing illicit in here, so I’m sure he’ll be fine with it.” I actually wasn’t, and I knew Chuckie was probably right, but why stress myself out? I leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
    He hugged me gently. “You’re welcome. Where is your husband, by the way? I expected to have a fight about getting a minute alone with you.”
    “Called to Paris for some sort of emergency. All of Alpha Team is there other than me, Tito, and Richard.”
    Chuckie’s eyes narrowed. “That’s interesting.” He looked at the screens. “Good, there are enough. I’ll want to see if we can connect with Euro Base after we talk to my people.”
    “Fine and dandy. I get why we’re doing this meeting—I fainted as my introduction to these people last time, and that was the entire agenda. But I don’t understand why you