An Alienating Secret

The Deities

--Conner—

It's hard being a spy. You look at the new world you love and try to hide the truth of your mission even from yourself. Two sides of feeling battle it out inside you- the nationalism for the government you're spying for, and the innate feeling that what you're doing is a wrong, harsh betrayal to the new friends you've made.

We often try to lessen that "betrayal" by reasoning we never should have grown fond of the target-planet in the first place, then by blaming our position as a spy onto someone else's poor decisions. And maybe that would work for me. After all, I was only a child when my parents put me through the surgery to hide a human costume inside my chest. The decision was made for me and left a scar (literally). It wasn't like I could do anything.

So why does this feeling always take a hold of me in the most crucial moments?! I've clicked onto my distinguished call and am seeing a group of people basically every Achi-Pimientyen would die to see. Why does the guilt come to me now? Why not the superiority, the pride, the excitement that used to grip me in the past? I still feel awe for these people, but it's an awe combined with this ominous feeling of their cruelty. I shouldn't be feeling like this. I should be smiling in spite of myself, appearing strong, and fully collected in my mind....

Conner... just breathe, and focus....

I wish I had been telling Alana the truth when I said I was a rebel that escaped from my planet. Wouldn't it be so much easier if that was my life?

Conner... you had no choice... you can't change a thing... and you certainly can't rebel...

But couldn't I give them wrong information? Couldn't I lie and do all I could to stop them from coming to Earth?

Conner, you know you'd just be killed for attempting to outsmart THEM... Besides, they're waiting for you now. And you know you'd never have the guts to disappoint them...

I felt my eyes turn to the projector, and immediately my breath hitched. I simply became immersed in the scene put in front of me. After all, not many Achi-Pimientyens can see the Tahtlakoshi Apitsala. It's the Council Room for The Deity of Eight themselves, who govern the galaxies with hard fists and wise discernment.

The eight gods and goddesses were radiant as they towered in their high-backed seats. Their golden hair reflected with blinding light against their smooth pink skin, as stunning daylight poured in from the stained glass windows behind them. I had seen these glass masterpieces before on my previous calls, but they called my attention yet again.

In the octagonal room, four sides of the walls have stained glass windows from ceiling to floor (the other side is smooth, shining opal and ginormous jewel-studded doors). Great stories of the past Deities are told in these windows' designs. Coronations, battles, weddings, etc., the scenes shine off their canvases and touch the hearts of the on-looking loyalists. The very expressions of the past council leaders seem to radiate love, warmth, and power, as if they were extending the good principles of their empire unto the current Deities sitting just below their watchful faces.

For sure, the glass masterpieces bestowed a sense that the current council was continuing the planet's glory days. The colors from the windows cascaded across The Deities and onto the reflective white floor, covering parts of their bodies with the blue tint of previous philanthropic acts or the red blood of their formers' accomplishments. For a planet obsessed with its past successes, what more could be asked?

There was one particular Deity that had his face covered with red. Kuautik Toani was the leader of The Deity of Eight, and he shared the center of their row of chairs with his brother, Tkemauatl Tlatsa. It was Toani that spoke with me now,