"This is disgusting," said Tierney, walking alongside the President to the press briefing. "I can't believe we're going along with this."

Nelle looked equally appalled, but she said, "We were outvoted."

"It's non-binding. Just because most of the world is willing to pimp out their women doesn't mean America has to."

"We're not forcing anyone into anything -- even you said the Relicans were clear on that point. We're just asking the question."

Keeping her voice low as they passed a cluster of wide-eyed interns, Tierney said, "I can't stop thinking that they wouldn't be giving us or our destruction a second thought if we were slimy reptilians with three heads. It's just... revolting."

"And then we would all be dead in a month." Nelle gave a mirthless laugh. "At least it's nice to know that humanity won't be its own end -- for now, anyway."

They came to a stop outside the Briefing Room where Caleb and Director Willoughby were already waiting for them.

"What a day, eh ladies?" Caleb asked. "Aliens, spaceships, joint press briefings..."

With a hard smile, Nelle walked past him, saying, "Truly a day for the history books."

They all sat at a table at the front of the room, and the President began her prepared statement.

"Good evening my fellow Americans. It goes without saying that today is a historic day not only for our country, but for humanity itself..."

As Nelle described the events that had transpired -- the private in-person meeting between the Relicans and world leaders, the molecular conveyance of five humans onto the Relican vessel, the advanced technology the delegates had witnessed on board, even the request for mate volunteers -- Tierney watched the reactions of the press corps. Their skepticism, fear, and suspicion represented all of the Americans listening at home, and she wondered whether anyone was believing any of this. If Commander Corwin was right, and they really only had four days of breathing room to vacate their entire population, they should really begin evacuating immediately, to allow for contingencies between now and collision. But if no one believed the Relicans could be trusted, or that there were even aliens to begin with, valuable time -- and lives -- would be lost.

The sound of her name caught Tierney's attention, and she knew the President was reaching the end of her prepared statement. Tierney caught herself tugging long strands of hair out of her bun and fiddling with them in nervous anticipation of the inevitable deluge of questions.

"... Dawson will be assuming the additional title of Relocation Liaison. She will act as the direct link between the Relicans and all U.S. governors, communicating with both to ensure logistics related to the evacuation will be smooth, comprehensive, and fair. She will also make sure expeditions are being coordinated at the state level to reach populations who may still be unaware of the impending disaster, such as those living in remote rural areas, and indigenous peoples."

Nelle paused, removing her glasses and taking a deep breath. Sweeping her gaze across the room, she said, "I'm certain you all have many, many questions. I ask that we stray from the standard format, and just go row by row, one question at a time, circling the room as many times as it takes for all of your questions to be answered." She gave a pointed look at the first reporter in the front row, who quickly asked her question.

"How can you be so certain of the Relicans' good intentions, regarding both humanity as a whole and the women volunteers in particular?"

"There is no way to know for sure whether the Relicans have been completely honest with us regarding their intentions," answered the President. "However, everything they have told us so far has been proven correct, including the location and trajectory of the asteroid, which has been confirmed by both Director Willoughby's team, and multiple scientific bodies across the globe."

"But that was using data and technology provided by the Relicans," the reporter pointed out.

Director Willoughby leaned forward and spoke into his microphone. "All available satellites have been pointed in the sector identified by the Relicans. By piggybacking signals and focusing all global scientific resources, we have been able to push our technology to the limit to detect an object that could be the asteroid."

"Could?" asked the reporter.

Caleb cleared his throat. "While it's not as concrete as we might like, it's the best we can do. Look," he leaned forward, gesturing to the press corps to do the same, as if he were speaking to only one person and about to tell them a luscious secret, "I've met these people -- looked them square in the eye. I've been disassembled on a molecular level and put back together again on a ship floating 400 miles up there." He pointed at the ceiling, as if there were any question about where up there was.

"Are these folks aliens? Yes," he continued. "Are they light years ahead of us with their technology? Yes. But other than that, they're just like you and me. They're just a bunch of folks trying to survive. They went through a hell of a time on their own planet, nearly destroyed themselves with endless wars -- sound familiar? -- and now they need our help. That's right -- they need our help."

He gave a laugh and leaned back. "Their race is in the same boat as us! It could be the end of the line for them too, except it's not at the hands of some distant rock in space. But even though their kind will die out without our help, they're asking. I cannot stress this enough: they are asking for volunteers to help them out. The Commander of their squad looked me straight in the eye and swore that these women are considered holy by their people, that they would be waited on hand and foot, and even with all that, any of them could back out at any time and not be denied. This is not slavery. I repeat: this is not slavery. I'll say the same thing I said when I was looking down on Earth from their spaceship: if these folks wanted to hurt us, kidnap us, or worse, they could have done so without any of this fuss. I, for one, not only believe them, but thank my lucky stars that they wandered into our corner of the universe."

As the next reporter asked about what the ship was like, and the Vice President readily described his impressions of the vessel, Tierney wondered what Caleb's posturing meant. He was no friend of Nelle's, that was for certain, but with the introduction of aliens into the mix, this couldn't all just be him vying for the next election.

"If women are interested in volunteering," asked the next reporter, her face beet red, "what is the mechanism for making that known? Are we -- they supposed to somehow communicate directly with the Relicans?"

The President stared at the woman for a moment with a blank expression, then seemed to regain her focus, saying, "We anticipate an email address and a corresponding list of submittal requirements to be publicly available through the White House website sometime tomorrow."

"How exactly will the entire population be transported, and where are they taking us?" asked the next reporter.

Director Willoughby answered. "The Relicans have a unique type of ship that emulates the properties of a planet. The process they described is that they will use several of their vessels to transport us via their molecular conveyance to this planet-ship, and then in essence tow us to the replacement planet, which is approximately fourteen light-years away, but still in the Milky Way Galaxy."

"Let me remind you that no one will be transported against their will," said the President. "While we hope all of our fellow men and women will join us on this journey, we will not force anyone."

The press conference went on for hours -- well into the night. By the time it was over, Tierney was too exhausted to drive home. She went to her office and grabbed her overnight bag. Checking her phone, she saw a missed call from Clementine, along with the text: "Call me! I don't care what time!"

She and her little sister often talked late during the school year, when Clem was at her dorm and living the life of a nocturnal college student. But it was June, and Clem was living back home with their parents. Plus, 2AM was way too late for any reasonable person to talk on the phone. Hoping that Clem was asleep and that her ringer would be set to quiet, Tierney texted her, saying she'd call the next day when she could.

Plugging her phone and tablet into their standup charging docks, she turned them to face the couch so she could see the clock on her phone. Then she made up the couch, pulling off the cushions and putting on a set of sheets and blanket that she kept in the closet. After brushing her teeth, she locked her door -- couldn't be too careful with Jonas sneaking around all the time -- and slipped out of her clothes. Sliding into her makeshift bed, she stared into the darkness and processed her wild, awful day.

Awful. Yes, that about covered it. Awful on just about every level. Not only had humanity learned that their time on Earth now had an expiration date, they had to put their faith in a group of aliens who would only save them if they agreed to have kids with them. Riots had already broken out all over the world, and the TV and radio waves were full of apocalyptic preachers exacerbating everyone's fear with tales of condemnation and divine wrath.

And that was just the big picture stuff. Between arriving late -- and sodden -- to the meeting with the Relicans, getting caught staring at the commander's metallic skin, and having a panic attack in the anti-gravity room, Tierney had personally managed to tarnish the persona of strength and dignity that was essential to maintaining a respectful relationship with the aliens.

The President didn't seem to share Tierney's certainty that she'd singlehandedly brought about humanity's downfall. They'd spoken privately in the Oval Office after the press conference, and Tierney had told her everything, including how Commander Corwin hadn't even been able to look at her after the free room. She'd even offered to resign as Relocation Liaison, but Nelle didn't accept, assuring Tierney that she was the best person for the job.

Thinking back on the day, Tierney realized that what bothered her the most was that the Relicans had seen her at her worst. She was always extremely careful to be nothing but professional, and was never emotional -- she knew only too well how quick people were to equate showing emotion to being perceived as weak. She'd been in politics for ten years, including managing a successful Presidential campaign, and she'd never felt as stressed and frazzled as she had today.

I'll do better tomorrow, she thought, closing her eyes. I can't change today, but I can do better tomorrow.

She had to.