Page 37 of My Big Fat Fake Alien

I settle into the plush chair, noting the exits and angles of attack out of centuries of habit. "This is quite the welcome."

"Only the best for New York's most innovative tech genius." Giscard pours deep red wine into Waterford crystal. "Your recent acquisition of Quantum Dynamics was inspired."

"Sounds like you're buttering me up for an investment."

His laugh echoes off marble walls. "Most perceptive, Kirk. Most perceptive indeed."

Giscard leans forward, and something feral glints in his eyes. "What if I told you that the annihilation of human society as we know it is inevitable, but there's a way to preserve the best parts of it so we can rebuild even better?"

"How could you possibly know-"

He cuts me off with a wave. "The how and why aren't important. The when is what matters. And the when is happening soon." His smile stretches wider. "For just one billion dollars, you and your lovely Raven can have guaranteed seats on the Ark Project."

Ice forms in my gut. This is far worse than expected. The Grolgath aren't just meddling anymore - they're planning to reshape humanity itself.

I raise an eyebrow at Giscard, swirling the wine in my glass. "A billion dollars is a steep price tag for a seat on your yacht, even if it is a spaceship."

His laugh fills the room, rich and knowing. "Oh, Kirk. You’re a man of vision, aren’t you? Surely you understand the value of a vision like this. But I’d be disappointed if you didn’t demand to see what you’re investing in. A man like you doesn’t get where he is by being reckless with his money."

"That’s one way to put it," I say, leaning back in my chair. "Let’s cut the sales pitch, Giscard. Show me the goods."

His smile tightens, and he downs the last of his wine. "Follow me."

We leave the restaurant and head back to Area 51. The club is quieter now, a few stragglers nursing drinks in the dimly lit corners. Giscard leads me through the dungeon, past the St. Andrew’s cross and the suspension rigs, to the unassuming maintenance door. He waves his hand over a hidden scanner, and the door clicks open, revealing a sleek metal elevator.

The ride down is long, the air growing colder with every passing second. The elevator finally stops with a soft ping, and the doors open to a cavernous underground chamber. My breath catches.

Before us stands a Grolgath space cruiser, its metallic hull gleaming under the harsh artificial light. It’s a beast of a ship, bristling with weapons and armored plating. Even without its superluminal drive, it’s a sight to behold.

"Impressive, isn’t it?" Giscard says, his voice full of pride. "This will take us into orbit, where a fully-functional space station awaits. From there, we can wait out the catastrophe below and rebuild the Earth when it’s safe to return."

I let out a low whistle, keeping up the act. "Christ, Giscard. Did you steal this from a Star Wars set?"

He chuckles, but there’s an edge to his voice. "Oh, my dear Kirk. This is no prop."

His form shimmers, the human façade melting away to reveal his true Grolgath self. Seven feet of black and white scales, sharp claws, and a serpentine gaze. His voice drops to a hiss. "This is no prop, Mr. Stevens."

I let my jaw drop, feigning terror. My eyes widen, my breath quickens, and I take a step back, my hand flying to my chest. "What the hell are you?"

"Your salvation," he replies, his forked tongue flicking between his teeth. "Welcome to the future, Kirk."

Giscard's scales ripple and fade as he shifts back to human form. His expensive suit materializes without a wrinkle. "I've selected Earth's finest minds. Scientists, artists, visionaries - all chosen for their potential to rebuild civilization."

"Sounds exclusive."These bastards plan to destroy everything humanity has built.

"Indeed. Which brings me to one final detail." Giscard straightens his tie. "The Ark Project is for married couples only. No exceptions."

My stomach drops. "But Raven and I-"

"Have a week to make it official." His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Consider it a test of commitment. To the cause, of course."

The elevator ride back up feels longer than the descent. We emerge into Area 51's dungeon, now empty of patrons. The St. Andrew's cross casts strange shadows on the wall.

"Unfortunately, I won't be able to attend the ceremony." Giscard claps my shoulder. "Business overseas. But do send photos."

I force a smile. "Wouldn't dream of excluding you completely."

My hands shake with suppressed fury as I drive back to the office. The Grolgath aren't just planning to meddle with the timeline anymore - they're going to decimate Earth's population and handpick who survives.

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